John Betjeman

Rookie (28 August 1906 – 19 May 1984 / London, England)

John Betjeman Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
41. A Bay In Anglesey 5/9/2011
42. Felixstowe, Or The Last Of Her Order 5/9/2011
43. Indoor Games Near Newbury 5/9/2011
44. Inexpensive Progress 5/9/2011
45. The Olympic Girl 5/9/2011
46. The Licorice Fields At Pontefract 5/9/2011
47. Lenten Thoughts Of A High Anglican 5/9/2011
48. Slough 4/3/2007
49. Seaside Golf 5/9/2011
50. Meditation On The A30 4/19/2007
51. Back From Australia 5/9/2011
52. False Security 5/9/2011
53. On A Portrait Of A Deaf Man 5/9/2011
54. Norfolk 5/9/2011

Comments about John Betjeman

  • terribilini FORMERly jackson! (2/28/2018 9:39:00 AM)

    By thé Wayne,

    By thé Way

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Ian K (7/23/2017 1:10:00 PM)

    The quintessential English poet of the 20th century, the fact that he's easy to read doesn't detract from his genius.

  • Frank Barry (4/12/2016 1:37:00 PM)

    Bon Marche is found in the poem Parliament Hill Fields, second verse.

  • Catherine Cox (10/10/2015 12:45:00 PM)

    JB was my dads favourite poet. He once told me he remembers a poem by him with the line/phrase Bon Marche, the Electric Palace. Does any one know of any such poem by John Betjeman?

Best Poem of John Betjeman


How did the Devil come? When first attack?
These Norfolk lanes recall lost innocence,
The years fall off and find me walking back
Dragging a stick along the wooden fence
Down this same path, where, forty years ago,
My father strolled behind me, calm and slow.

I used to fill my hands with sorrel seeds
And shower him with them from the tops of the stiles,
I used to butt my head into his tweeds
To make him hurry down those languorous miles
Of ash and alder-shaded lanes, till here
Our moorings and the masthead would appear.

There ...

Read the full of Norfolk

A Mind's Journey To Diss

Dear Mary,
Yes, it will be bliss
To go with you by train to Diss,
Your walking shoes upon your feet;
We'll meet, my sweet, at Liverpool Street.
That levellers we may be reckoned
Perhaps we'd better travel second;
Or, lest reporters on us burst,
Perhaps we'd better travel first.

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