John Fowles (Remove filter)
On hearing John Fowles fart
In the sun bathed seaside town of Lyme
Where ice cream now drips where dinosaurs once walked
pastel shaded cottages skirt the sea
And Grockles eat cockles and cobbs on the Cobb.
A writer of repute resided
A postmodernist existential philosopher
Who welcomed me into his home
A number of times, talking of his craft
His books his work and films that were made of this
...
Monday 8th April 2019 6:35 pm
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
48 minutes ago
John Coopey on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
3 hours ago
John F Keane on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
4 hours ago
John F Keane on A Cut Above
4 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SHAN’T ALWAYS BE LOVELY
6 hours ago
Mike McPeek on Fallen Leaf
10 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The Forgotten
12 hours ago
Rolph David on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on His Majesty’s Stay Out of Hell Cards: “Divine Right” and “Convention”
13 hours ago
Hélène on Elementary
13 hours ago