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At twilight from the hills across the Straits, a sudden

drift of smoke – then a fire’s deep orange eye blinked.

We talked of cruising the Nile; of moon rise and sun set,

of the narrow compass of the earth’s curve;

the river pilots’ open armed, hand-on-heart salaams;

and the stars rushing through the night.


Later and sleepless in the early hours,

I kept watch at the bedroom window.

The hotel sign lit a faded Union flag,

threadbare at its outer edges.

The only hint of the far shore was

sporadic lights on the A55.


But the stars were unequivocal. In a cloudless,

unpolluted sky, how they teemed!

I saw the constellations pass

and the random magnificence of things revealed.

Understandably, you preferred to sleep.

And journey safely through the dark.



Note: The poem was originally published on the site in October 2009, under the title, BULKELEY HOTEL, BEAUMARIS, YNYS MÔN –




© Copyright David Selzer
1 Response
  • Laurie Corzett
    November 9, 2012

    Nursery Song

    Scooping up the cornucopia of experience
    gently nestled in moonbeams
    at peace in a lullaby
    easily descending
    into the world of lights and pain
    too bright, too loud, too cacophonous
    to embrace whole.
    Whisp whispers shhh, whispers
    of ideas, harnessed light,
    well-structured challenges
    ease into bits by bits
    hypnotic meme streams
    world stories
    of clearly constructed grammar
    sharing common tongue
    that we may ease our fractured
    anxious turbulence
    in chorus of soothing nursery song.
    See, we are the progeny of heroes.
    Hear the laughter of the Almighty
    among hosts of angels
    here we are home.
    Sweet, splintered home.
    Here we learn to serve the giants,
    give piously abased homage
    to the slingers of arrows
    that could rend us
    bit by bloody bit.
    No wonder we sing louder,
    dance jerkily on starched,
    bleached strings.
    Wouldn’t we agree to anything
    that we be allowed
    to sleep
    just a few aeons more.

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