POETRY

THE DISGUISED REPUBLIC

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.5K views

For Mark Chapman, PPC

So well is our real government concealed, that if you tell a cabman to drive to ‘Downing Street’ he most likely will never have heard of it…It is only a ‘disguised republic’, which is suited to such a being as the Englishman in such a century as the nineteenth.

THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION, Walter Bagehot, 1867.

HM’s Garden Parties turn the Bagehot trick,

showing GB as it really, really is:

the Law, the Cloth, clerks, hacks, uniforms,

diplomats, local government officers

and the odd charity bod – some wearing gloves!

Strangely, though there are two regimental bands,

there aren’t enough chairs, the ice cream runs out

and so many guests leave early – out

into London’s levelling traffic.

Fresh from the slaughter at Culloden,

the Duke of Cumberland’s men created

Virginia Water, a little bit

of highland wilderness in Surrey

– the land, a gift from the Duke’s grateful dad,

Her Present Majesty’s great-great-great-

granddad, for stuffing the Scots for good.

And it’s still in the family – with all

those acres and paintings and pottery,

liveries and lackeys, vanity and greed.

How well they obscure where real power lies!

OH YES THERE IS!

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.3K views

Queen Scheherazade telling her stories to King Shahryar
Queen Scheherazade telling her stories to King Shahryar


You are Princess Ayesha, the principal girl,

in the youth group’s pantomime at St Barnabas,

West Street, Crewe. Disguised as a boy, you are searching

for Aladdin – your true, lost love – in the canvas

forest and the bazaar, among the painted caves

and the amphora. Heavily Max Factored, dressed

in torn shirt and ripped shorts – having crossed the desert,

outwitted each one of the forty thieves, bested

Abanazar, bamboozled the Genie and charmed

Widow Twankey to be downstage centre – you sang

Buddy Holly’s top of the hit parade, ‘Oh Boy!’


Your story – we had not met then – though embellished,

of course. But I can see you as clearly as if

we had – in what you say, leave unsaid, and do not

know about yourself: lovely, witty, determined,

courageous, heart breaking. ‘Oh boy, when you’re with me,

Oh boy, the world can see That you, were meant, for me.’

THE PRICE

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.3K views

Just beyond the lamp’s beam, where coal and dark

were one, was fire, flood, blast and rockfall.

Shoring bulged, split. Rock jerked through. Earth returned.

Exploited roofs fell, distantly like sighs.

How men loved life to work that labyrinth

crowded with frustrated lives! There were

children in the collapsed seams. There was dust

in ears, nostril, mouth, pores – ubiquitous

as death, death’s colour – and in the palm, a chance

shaving from the crushed forests, the suppressed

centuries, drawing blood.

PREPOSITIONS II

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments1 min read1.9K views

TO LINDISFARNE

From Seahouses to

Inner Farne, a bumble bee

escorted our boat.

OFF POINT OF AIR

In a far channel,

a lone boatmen plays the pipes:

‘The Road to the Isles’.

FROM HILBRE ISLAND

A pale summer’s day –

low tide, windless, infinite:

seals bark distantly.

ON YNYS LLANDDWYN

On summer’s last  day,

wind flecked wave crests arise, curl,

spill like quick-silver.

FROM THE MARITIME MUSEUM

Brown pelicans glide

freely, over Alcatraz,

like tawny galleons.

FROM GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE

Shouldering the wind, our

close shadows are stretched below

on the ribbed water.

ON SCREMERSTON BEACH, NEW YEAR’S DAY

In the dunes, a seal

was stranded – dissipating whisky

and resolve.

THE GREATEST OF THESE

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.4K views

All day I was accosted by the same

black wino who called me, “Sir”, who had not,

he said, worked for three years, had an illness

(unspecified) and never knew me though

we met outside the Tribune Tower, the

Art Institute, a camera shop on

Wabash, Berghof’s, and then under the El

at State and Jackson! Finally, as I

took my first Wild Turkey of the evening

while I stood at my hotel window, there

he was on the far side of Harrison,

raising the product of his day’s labour

in, surely not, salute!

PARTING THE WAYS

David Selzer By David Selzer2 Comments1 min read2.3K views

Earthmovers roared, made a whirling progress

six days a week: a four-lane highway

to bypass our provincial town. Gone were

Traveller’s Joy, Heartsease, Love-in-Idleness.

Our wood and its narrow roadway – a lovers’

thoroughfare – severed. Only clay was left

from world’s edge to world’s end: a no-man’s-land,

a dried-up riverbed. One Sunday,

our daughter crossed the silent excavation

and, from the opposite bank, called out:

‘It’s just like the Red Sea!’ And she waved.

We acknowledged the future lovingly.