November was another pylonless month and with December rushing by, I decided that action had to be taken to ensure that two fallow months in succession didn't come to pass. A recent email inspired this month's post:
I wrote a poem about a pylon and was wondering if you would like to feature it on your blog? I live in Manchester, and the poem was inspired by a specific pylon in Sale Water Park.
The pylon that acted as the poetic muse is the one above courtesy of Geograph
which has this to say about it:
One of the dominant features of the square is the high voltage power line which crosses Sale Water Park. This pylon is near the
south eastern end of the lake. A footpath runs beneath the legs. There is a second pylon in the square on the northern shore of the lake.
That's enough background - let's get to the poem itself written by Annie Muir, an award winning and published poet based in Manchester. To find out more visit her blog https://time41poem.wordpress.com/
She stands by the lake
like the ribcage of a dinosaur.
A spider’s web for catching clouds
with six arms like a god or six legs like a bug.
She is pear-shaped,
the capital A at the start of the alphabet,
caged in her steel corset dress
and barbed wire socks. A puppeteer of seagulls
managing the ducks that sprinkle her lake
like hundreds and thousands on a 99
but also a puppet herself, held up by wires
like lines indicating movement –
she is the shed skin of a moment in your life. A monument
to the here and now
like a photo of you with a different haircut
or a pair of old shoes
tied to your new ones by the laces
but trailing behind, covered in mud.
Regular readers of this blog will already know about the pylon poets, of whom the most famous is Stephen Spender featured on the blog back in May 2009. I'm also a big fan of the forgotten pylon poet Stanley Snaith who featured on the blog more recently in August 2017.
Merry Christmas to pylon fans everywhere.