POETRY

OF PLUMS AND FIGS

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read1.5K views

Dreamily among the leaves, uneasily,

in my age, up a shining ladder

I am plucking plums – discarding those

rotten, prune-like encrusted with sugar,

or pecked at by passing tits and dunnocks.

I pass the whole, ripe ones down carefully

to my granddaughter, who holds her bowl

high as she can. You look on, pleased for us both

and concerned. Later you will place the blushed plums

in a wide shallow dish of the deepest red

adorned with foliage – and snap them

with your iphone to share with Facebook friends

and their gentle innuendo. Later still

you will pick some figs and immortalise them too.

We will get to eat the art. Another year

may pass before I mount that ladder

like some hoary angel.

 

 

Note: The poem was first published on Facebook in August 2017.

 

 

A TOKEN OF A COVENANT: MARCH 16TH 2018

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read1.6K views

And suddenly there, through the high sash window,

is a rainbow – lit by the westward sun –

from behind the church and over the park’s

leafless, lichened trees to the gated, faith school.

 

This is the season of illusion and sleight

of hand; the season of the braying bluster

of blinkered donkeys spooked by mayhem

in a cathedral city; the season

of the wet slap of the laundering of money

on the banks of the gun metal Thames;

of clownish mendacity; of useful

idiocy; of media stooges.

 

Some wars start with an ear, some with a lie.

Some wars are fought for oil, some for dogma.

There is always foolishness, and cruelty.

 

One hundred years ago, the German army

was readying for Kaiserschlacht, yet one more

battle across the wastelands of the Somme –

yet one more throw of human dice. Meanwhile

the rest of Europe’s Foreign Offices

were watching neutered Russia’s reddening skies.

 

Fifty years ago today US soldiers

murdered the villagers of My Lai –

five hundred men, women, children, infants.

The three soldiers who had tried to keep them safe

were shunned when the crime was uncovered.

 

The rainbow has gone. The sun’s beam transforms

a neighbour’s window into a shield of brass.

 

 

 

THE JIG’S UP

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

The simple memorial of slate and part

of a propeller was relocated

from the mountainous North Stack, where the plane crashed,

a mile to sea level in the Holyhead

Breakwater Country Park. The US

B24 Liberator bomber

was based at Valley ten miles away.

 

Returning from a radar jamming raid

over Northern France in very bad weather

the B24 overflew and, making

a re-approaching circuit, ran out of fuel.

Believing the aircraft was over land

the pilot ordered the eight non-commissioned

crew members to bail out. At the last minute

he and the co-pilot jumped to safety.

The plane hit the North Stack cliffs and burned.

Later it was learned the eight had drowned.

 

In the country park’s visitors’ centre

there is a colour photo of the crew:

smiling, modest young men in front of the nose

of The Jig’s Up – behind them its bullish,

innocent, fateful name.

 

 

 

KITCHENER’S ISLAND

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

Our felucca tacked across the river Nile

to Aswan from Kitchener’s Island –

with its well watered botanical gardens

and its straight boulevards of tall palm trees –

gifted to Lord Kitchener of Khartoum,

pre Great War, as Egypt’s Consul-General.

 

As we approached the east bank, out of nowhere

it seemed, a boy appeared along side us

in a small zinc bath paddling with his hands

and singing, “‘Michael, row the boat ashore!

Hallelujah!'” – the old slave song learned then turned,

with chutzpah and courage, back to enterprise.

“Please give him anything but money,”

urged our Egyptologist guide, alumnus

of Cairo and Yale. “We must not become a

nation of supplicants.” A fellow tourist

gave him a packet of paper handkerchiefs,

another some sweets. The rest of us

had nothing but money. “Shukran!” he called,

and waved graciously encompassing us all.

He paddled off. “‘Boastin’ talk will sink your soul!'”

I thought, cheeky beggar – ‘Your Country Needs You’!

 

 

 

NOW WE ARE SEVENTY FIVE

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments1 min read1.7K views

In more civilised days we might have appeared

on Wilfred Pickles’ radio show

‘Have A Go!’ and when he asked our age

and we told him he would say, ‘Seventy five,

ladies and gentlemen!’ and they would applaud,

and, before he asked ‘What’s on the table, Mable?’

and instructed ‘Give them the money, Barney!’,

he would ask how long we had been married –

more applause – and then he would ask us,

in his warm, BBC Yorkshire voice,

for the secret of our years of wedded bliss.

 

Now, would we have said, ‘Many a cross word,

mutual disrespect, satire, irony,

and a shared appetite for strong spirits!’

or merely told the truth? We have been

lucky. Love defines us.

 

 

 

 

Note: first published on Facebook July 7th 2018

 

THE OLD LIME TREES AT ERDDIG

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment3 min read1.7K views

for Glyn Smith

 

When the meticulously landscaped gardens

were left to hazard, during the estate’s

long, reclusive neglect, some of the trees

in the two avenues either side

of the wide ornamental canal – whose

perspective frames the classical proportions

of the house – began to grow together

like errant, statuesque teeth. A couple

have been extracted to save the rest.

 

… Limes are almost indestructible – felled trunks

will sprout. Honey bees favour them. For aeons

they have been planted in rows for blessings,

and for battles – their bark used for basketry,

and rope. Their flowers mend the heart, and the soul…

 

Perched roisterously on topmost branches,

here, in autumn, are parliaments of rooks.

Against the sky, in winter, the trees

are wild filigree, black fretwork – in spring

flickering shade in the afternoon’s sun.

On summer evenings, after the park has closed,

dryads waltz amongst them.

 

 

The poem was inspired by the trees, their setting [https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/erddig] – and by an e conversation with Glyn Smith,  the current Head Gardener at Erddig. I sent Glyn the final draft of the poem for comment and asked if I might dedicate it to him.

He wrote:

I really appreciate your poem and thoughts to dedicate it to me. The only comment I might make is this one about time. I’m not the first head gardener, or gardener for all that, to work here and I’ll not be the last. Someone had the vision and had to plant the lime avenues, amongst other trees and flowers. Over the years there have been many others who contributed their sweat to the garden. On those lines I would like to modestly just be one of those dedicated artisan gardeners who made, developed and curate this garden. The limes stand as a testament to those generations of gardeners who over the years were watched over by them, by the limes themselves. In a way we were the children and the limes the parents and teachers in this school. What learning they must have witnessed and how proud they must be of our achievements.

I have been steadily looking at lime avenues on and off over the last few years and it would appear that our lime avenues are, historically, much more important than ever previously thought. Before c.1700 the only limes in this country were small leaved limes, Tilia cordata. A native species and less suited to the lime avenues we see. On the continent there were hybrid limes between T.cordate and T. platyphyllos and it was this hybrid lime that became so popular for avenues. Now called Tilia x europea it became particularly popular in northern Europe and there are now several slightly different forms of it that are broader, taller, or less or more covered in basal sucker shoots. Just walk in any estate where there are limes and you will quickly spot how densely some are shooted amongst their lower canopy branches.

As gardening spread, particularly the influence of French and Dutch gardening on British horticulture, so we saw introductions of this hybrid lime. It probably achieved its greatest influence around the end of the 17th Century and the great dutch influence of the Glorious Revolution and William 111. One of the more recent forms of lime to be introduced and possibly the most common, is Tilia x Europa ‘Pallida’ and our limes are of this. Perhaps it was best adapted to the wetter Dutch lands, and as such prospered best.

We usually see lime avenues planted across estates. It seems exceptionally rare that shorter avenues of trees were planted within walled gardens. That really makes our lime avenues virtually unique and they should be kept for as long as possible.