Mandy Pannett
Mandy Pannett lives in West Sussex. She is a member of the Slipstream Poets and helps to run a monthly Arts Cafe in Ditchling. She works free lance teaching creative writing classes and leading workshops. She has had three poetry collections published: ‘Bee Purple’ and ‘Frost Hollow’ (Oversteps Books) and ‘Allotments in the Orbital’ (Searle Publishing) Her novella ‘The Onion Stone’ will be published October/November 2011.
You may leave a comment for this poet at the bottom of the page and it will be posted there once approved. Please indicate which poem the comment relates to if it is specific.
APPLE WINDFALL
Sometimes you hear it –
a thud on soft grass or else an underfoot, brown-
mush squash that’s close to
but less
than a sigh
Best if you pluck it ripe from the tree, or rather (not
so active a gesture) cup
your hand round it
push up-
wards and
wait
(Thanks to Geoffrey Winch whose Slipstream Workshop on ‘Fruit’ inspired this poem)
STRANDLOPER
At one with white sand and the sea
he strokes the skin of his dreams. His kaross
is warm on his naked limbs, his sleep
as delicate as his frame, his large-
domed head. As gatherer
of the blue mussel, he harvests
the tidal pool.
Did time dilate in a dazzle of thought?
Was he out of his era and place?
Though he slept with his face to the sun
he would have felt sadness and loss
like rain; drop by drop, like us.
All we have left are shells
and bones that are mute.
AQUATIC MAN
Shelley, I said, I know you’re telling me matters
that count but words are liquid
and syllables grey –
Get up, you cry, the sea is in flood!
Well, you always had a mania for water –
the immersion in and the rising up.
Is it so terrible after all
to hammer-blow batter a shell?
To snuff the candle and shatter the false,
to sever the cable of light?
Oh sleep on then, aquatic man, don’t answer me –
May you stay content
a little longer yet.
TWO
Swan, you swoop down
on our wetlands but
with another, not
your own mate –
This is not right.
You are written as faithful till death.
She returns too, new partner in tow –
Shocking, this smashing
of myth.
Now why are you both coming back to your haunts?
Just who has left who
in this Eden?
You may leave a comment for this poet at the bottom of the page and it will be posted there once approved. Please indicate which poem the comment relates to if it is specific.
APPLE WINDFALL
Sometimes you hear it –
a thud on soft grass or else an underfoot, brown-
mush squash that’s close to
but less
than a sigh
Best if you pluck it ripe from the tree, or rather (not
so active a gesture) cup
your hand round it
push up-
wards and
wait
(Thanks to Geoffrey Winch whose Slipstream Workshop on ‘Fruit’ inspired this poem)
STRANDLOPER
At one with white sand and the sea
he strokes the skin of his dreams. His kaross
is warm on his naked limbs, his sleep
as delicate as his frame, his large-
domed head. As gatherer
of the blue mussel, he harvests
the tidal pool.
Did time dilate in a dazzle of thought?
Was he out of his era and place?
Though he slept with his face to the sun
he would have felt sadness and loss
like rain; drop by drop, like us.
All we have left are shells
and bones that are mute.
AQUATIC MAN
Shelley, I said, I know you’re telling me matters
that count but words are liquid
and syllables grey –
Get up, you cry, the sea is in flood!
Well, you always had a mania for water –
the immersion in and the rising up.
Is it so terrible after all
to hammer-blow batter a shell?
To snuff the candle and shatter the false,
to sever the cable of light?
Oh sleep on then, aquatic man, don’t answer me –
May you stay content
a little longer yet.
TWO
Swan, you swoop down
on our wetlands but
with another, not
your own mate –
This is not right.
You are written as faithful till death.
She returns too, new partner in tow –
Shocking, this smashing
of myth.
Now why are you both coming back to your haunts?
Just who has left who
in this Eden?
