David Selzer is a writer of poetry, prose fiction, screenplays and stage plays. He embraces digital platforms to share his work of more than fifty years… READ MORE


  • THE LAST CLOCK

    As a wave breaking then breaking then breaking

    and, finally, falling, dispersing on the sands,

    the red azalea bloomed then the crimson

    camellia, the purple magnolia

    and the white weeping cherry – its blossoms,

    the silk folds of its petals, April’s winds

    and showers were scattering like snowflakes.

     

    After, the unfolding flesh of the leaves,

    contoured like malachite, sturdy as stone

    seemingly, seduces. How can this surprise

    more and more each year, as if unknown, unseen?

    A grasping of life before the last clock

    – tickety tock, tickety tock – strikes?

     

     

     


    2 responses to “THE LAST CLOCK”


    1. Nilanjana Bose Avatar

      Beautifully captured spring images here. Evocative! And I mean all five, not just this one. Enjoyed seeing the name of Kolkata in there.
      Thanks and regards,
      Nilanjana.

    2. John Huddart Avatar
      John Huddart

      This lovely poem starts with such intense physical insistence – the rhythmic repetition and then the intense imagery, well achieved and sensual. So the ending with its childlike tickety tock was startling until I realized you were combining how age intensifies our experience whilst at the same time reminding us we are approaching our final childhood days – combining infancy and simplicity in our ends! Great stuff!

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