John Betjeman.  Late Flowering Lust.

John Betjeman. Late Flowering Lust.

Author: Poetry from the Jungle from The Ceylon Press January 18, 2025 Duration: 1:56

My head is bald, my breath is bad,
    Unshaven is my chin,
I have not now the joys I had
    When I was young in sin.

I run my fingers down your dress
    With brandy-certain aim
And you respond to my caress
    And maybe feel the same.

But I've a picture of my own
    On this reunion night,
Wherein two skeletons are shewn
    To hold each other tight;

Dark sockets look on emptiness
    Which once was loving-eyed,
The mouth that opens for a kiss
    Has got no tongue inside.

I cling to you inflamed with fear
    As now you cling to me,
I feel how frail you are my dear
    And wonder what will be —

A week? or twenty years remain?
    And then — what kind of death?
A losing fight with frightful pain
    Or a gasping fight for breath?

Too long we let our bodies cling,
    We cannot hide disgust
At all the thoughts that in us spring
    From this late-flowering lust.


There's a particular magic in the poem that almost made it, the one that lingers just outside the canonical spotlight. 101 Exiles from The Ceylon Press is a quiet space dedicated to those verses. Each episode of this Poetry from the Jungle podcast is a curated listening experience, focusing on a single, remarkable work by an acclaimed poet that, for whatever reason, never quite cracked the ubiquitous "top 100" lists. You won't find grand introductions or academic dissections here. Instead, the focus is on the language itself-the rhythm, the imagery, the quiet turn of phrase that deserves a moment of undivided attention. It's for anyone who believes the most resonant lines are sometimes found in the margins, offering a different kind of discovery in the world of verse. This podcast provides a sanctuary for those exiled poems, letting them speak for themselves directly to the listener.
Author: Language: English Episodes: 32

101 Exiles
Podcast Episodes
Hilaire Belloc.  John Vavasour de Quentin Jones. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 3:51
John Vavasour de Quentin Joneswas very fond of throwing stoneslike many of the upper classhe loved the sound of breaking glass( a line I stole with subtle daringfrom Wing Commander Maurice Baring)
Philip Larkin.  Talking In Bed. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:30
Talking in bed ought to be easiest,Lying together there goes back so far,An emblem of two people being honest.Yet more and more time passes silently.Outside, the wind's incomplete unrestBuilds and disperses clouds in the…
John Betjeman.  Upper Lambourne. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:51
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy,Up the ivy climbs the sun,With a twenty-thousand pattering,Has a valley breeze begun,Feathery ash, neglected elder,Shift the shade and make it run -Shift the shade toward the nettles,And th…
Philip Larkin.  An Arundel Tomb. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:49
Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone, Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat, And that faint hint of the absurd— The little dogs under their feet.Such plainn…
C. P. Cavafy.  The God Abandons Antony. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:44
When suddenly, at midnight, you hearan invisible procession going bywith exquisite music, voices,don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,work gone wrong, your plansall proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.As one…
Philip Larkin.  The North Ship. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:54
I saw three ships go sailing by,Over the sea, the lifting sea,And the wind rose in the morning sky,And one was rigged for a long journey.The first ship turned towards the west,Over the sea, the running sea,And by the win…
C. P. Cavafy.   Days Of 1903. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:08
I never found them again—all lost so quickly...the poetic eyes, the pale face...in the darkening street... I never found them again—mine entirely by chance,and so easily given up,then longed for so painfully.The poetic e…
Philip Larkin.  To The Sea. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:55
To step over the low wall that dividesRoad from concrete walk above the shoreBrings sharply back something known long before –The miniature gaiety of seasides.Everything crowds under the low horizon:Steep beach, blue wat…
C. P. Cavafy.     Remember, Body. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:15
Body, remember not only how much you were loved, not only the beds on which you lay, but also those desires which for you plainly glowed in the eyes, and trembled in the voice -- and some chance obstacle made them futile…