POETRY

A WINNING HAND

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read1.9K views

We met on the first working day of the week;

married, five years later, on a Saturday;

and sailed for Ireland on the Sunday.

This Monday marks fifty two years of mostly

wedded bliss; occasional toilsome woe;

loving; giving; hard work; grace – a pack of cards

without, for the most part, the jangling jokers.

 

Out of the grassy plains, along the Silk Road

from Samarkand, came the colours of

anarchy, of power and passion; came

the four corners of the world, its seasons,

its elements; came the months of the moon.

 

Partially obscured by damp, bronzed leaves,

there, one winter Sunday before we met,

discarded on a path of a public park

was the Queen of Hearts, blithe and propitious.

 

 

 

HESPERIDES

As goldfinches begin to sing and sparrows

chirp in polyphony, and swallows,

martins, swifts hunt with grace, the palette

of attenuated gold, amber, rose

is layered along the sea’s horizon

and the sun becomes a perfect disk

in the filtering, vermilion haze.

Anonymous con trails criss-cross the compass.

A lone swimmer crawls across the bay.

 

The evening star, sudden as a lamp, glints

in the afterglow. A wispy rain cloud forms

and drifts away like smoke. Somewhere a peacock calls

then, elsewhere, a donkey brays – ridiculous

and sublime, like figures in a masque.

A fishing boat, its stern light lit, leaves harbour

to anchor in the shelving deep and cast its nets.

 

 

 

 

STUDIES IN BLUE: PADDLING POOL, LLANDUDNO

Five men, in orangey yellow overalls,

using long handled rollers are painting

the paddling pool – which is the size of four

tennis courts – that blue which only colour charts

show or astronauts will see.  Beyond

is the limestone headland with rock-roses

amongst the scrub and fulmars nesting.

Far out to sea is a gathering,

stately and serried, of white, wind turbines.

 

I think of David Hockney’s iconic pools,

and of Robert Rauschenberg’s ‘Combines’ –

hybrids of sculpture and paint  – and his ‘Jammers’ –

unvarnished poles and coloured canvas.

 

Uniformed artisans – artificers

of the imagination – these painters

each year layer this surreal blue. Sea water

fades it, and tiny feet.

 

 

 

 

GERTRUDE BELL AND THE TREATY OF SÈVRES

Paris, 1920

 

The treaty was signed in the Exhibition Room,

overseen by Marie Antoinette’s

dinner service. Like porcelain owls’ eyes,

they were witnesses of the delegates’ harsh

geometry, the fretwork jigsaw of desk

wallahs – Ottoman Mesopotamia

become modern Syria and Iraq.

 

Gertrude Bell was one of the delegates:

daughter of a philanthropic iron master;

Oxford graduate like T.E. Lawrence;

cartographer, mountaineer, linguist;

archaeologist, administrator,

public servant; Arabist, Al-Khatun,

‘Queen of the Desert’; poet, fluent

in Farsee, translator of Hafiz;

confidante of seraglios, anti-

Suffragist; anti-Zionist, maker

of the Hashemite Kingdom of Iraq.

 

London, 1915

 

Between postings, lobbying powerful men,

as always, to let her be useful,

she continued her letters to ‘Dick’,

Charles Doughty-Wylie, career diplomat

and soldier, the unrequited, married

love of her life – eclectic letters

of Whitehall gossip, geo-political

tactics, romantic longing, and sorrow

for the Great War’s slaughters. Her last letter

was never finished. She had learned

of his death in action at Gallipoli.

 

Baghdad, 1926

 

She died from an overdose of sleeping pills.

There was no evidence of suicide.

King Faisal, the monarch she had made and whom

she was finding ‘difficult’ of late,

watched, from the shade of his private balcony,

the coffin carried through the dust to the thump

and blare of the garrison’s brass band.

He could see the Tigris beyond the graveyard.

His grandson’s disfigured body would be hung

from a lamp post near the square where Saddam’s

prodigious statue would be toppled with ropes.

 

‘To steadfastness and patience, friend, ask not
If Hafiz keep–
Patience and steadfastness I have forgot,
And where is sleep?’

 

 

 

 

 

 

OF PLUMS AND FIGS

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read1.7K 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 read1.7K 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.