Phillip Mann – writer, teacher and theatre director

1. SONG OF THE SNAKE

I am the snake
at home in my world
whether gliding under the long stemmed grass,
unseen, though my senses blaze like fire;
or seeking birds’ nests in a tree,
where I am now invisible;
or taking my ease on your kitchen bench,
or leaving my skin as a calling card,
yours to admire…

Always, always,
I arrive on time,
but never, never at a time expected –
and thus I provoke a state of mind
which you might call Awareness.
Some men of old, saw in me
the epitome of the sensuous,
and hence as truly dangerous.
Others looking in my eyes saw wisdom.
Both are true.

 

2. SONG OF THE POOL

I have no worries.
My life is to mirror the changing stars,
and to take in the sun as he rises,
the moon too… when she chooses.

I have no cares.
My blue paradise is home to lovers,
to those who know to take what is offered
reaching back to a time before memory.

I have no dreams,
nothing to hope for and thus no regrets.
Step down slowly and know as my water,
rises and touches, the moment is Now.

I am content
with blue tiles, a sloping surround,
with a surging pump that makes me swirl.
Though all things move, I keep my own level.

 

3. AT DANI’S DESK

What a privilege to sit
amid another’s clutter.
I hardly dare breathe
or touch a page
or place a cup
for there’s a special order here.
It is the order of a person’s life.

She, I’m sure, can navigate
among the scattered notes with hands
that dart like nimble fish amid
the corals of the reef.
I too like this order
and encourage it
as a higher form of knowing.

***
I have heard the mystics say,
there is a precious gap between
all our several certainties,
where, all unknown to our mind,
a seed is lodged which starts to rise
to seek the light which is its due,
and one day take us by surprise.

As within, so without,
on Dani’s desk. Why not?

 

4.  AWAKING IN A STRANGE HOUSE

I awake at first light, aware of strangeness.
It is in the light, the walls, the door
and in the very smell of the room.

I lie very still and listen,
to the small sounds of the house
as it stirs and breathes in the morning.

Quietly I reach for my specs.
And when I can see, I turn to sit
and the day rushes to fill me.

I hear no sounds upstairs.
Perhaps Dani’s already a-dip
and thoughtfully let me sleep.

Immediately I hear the call of the pool
and remember a certain dawn
when I dived in the Adriatic

amid bubbles like pearls –
an ecstasy of pure being
while the sun cut the sea like a knife.

Why not? My life is measured by memories,
and I tip-toe up, not to disturb the silence,
pausing only to admire the stairs.

It is their blackness I like,
and firmness of tread, smooth underfoot.
These are steps you can trust.

And they lead into the light,
where the door is still locked!
I am the first one awake, just as I like.

In my home, in a distant land,
this is the time I relish
when I talk to my plants, sip tea and stand.

A time of magic, of private imaginings
before the busy business day
claims me for its own.

But now, just a key in the lock,
bare feet on dry tiles, and I’m there,
where the pool is waiting for company.