Reflections of a working writer and reader
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- Winged with Death Reviews
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All art is deception and so is nature; all is deception in that good cheat, from the insect that mimics a leaf to the popular enticements of procreation. Do you know how poetry started? I always think that it started when a cave boy came running back to the cave, through the tall grass, shouting as he ran, "Wolf, wolf," and there was no wolf. His baboon-like parents, great sticklers for the truth, gave him a hiding, no doubt, but poetry had been born - the tall story had been born in the tall grass. Vladimir Nabokov
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Recent Comments
- bhupinder: Wonderfully well written, John ! Always a delight to visit y
- Warwick Paul Onyeama: This is a wonderful photograph that catches a moment in time
- somebadplankton: Sent me to the dictionary for quiffed.
- john baker: Gracias, Bhupinder.
- Bhupinder Singh: Superb, John. The last two lines are superlative.
- Catherine Isolde Eisner: In addition, doesn’t Graham's surname, Hendrick, recall th
- john baker: Thanks, Jim. Your comments and insights are always welcome.
- Jim Murdoch: A lot likeable about this. I hear comedians are often approa
- Mark Patrick Lynch: Thanks, John. It's good to see that Paul Sutherland's man
- john baker: Thanks, Mark. Good to hear from you, and to read your story
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