About flickety Flinn

Although the title of this website is the life and works of Flickety flinn,not a great deal is known about this elderly poetic figure.

By the writings I have studied,he was briefly described as  tall, undernourished  and rather frail looking, he had a crooked back and a long flowing white beard combed into a parting and tied behind his neck, he never spoke, just observed the world around him, and be it good or bad he absorbed  everything  he saw.

The scenes he observed was his poetic food, and every night he would dine and gorge till his char coaled fingers could write no more. his home, a craggy cave set high into the serpentine cliffs of the Lizard peninsular. His vista, the salty spume of the unforgiving Mor Bretanneck crashing and knawing the rocks below.By day foraging for morsels to eat,by night warming himself by the twigglet fire, penciling poetry till the early hours.

On one still autumn mourn, flickety flinn was found, lying soft in the long swaying grasses, on the ledge above his solitary home.He was reputedly  clutching his life's work tightly to his cold still breast,but when the weathered leather bound book was removed from flickertys cold hands, the binding of the book was unusually  warm, almost like the life of Flickerty flinn had left, and all the warmth of this poetic man had blended with the tea stained pages of his work.

The poems you are hopefully going to read are extracted from that very book, which fortunately for us turned up mysteriously, at the bottom of an old box, in a bric a brac sale, in one of the oldest villages in old Cornwall .