Author: Matthew Paul

Football Poets is a treasure trove of poetic musings about the beautiful game. I have a poem on the site today – ‘Magic Boots’.

midnight garden only the snowberries take on the starlight What a lovely, atmospheric haiku this is! Phillip Murrell has been writing haiku for many years and this is among his best. Like others which I have written about of late, it features in this year’s Haiku Calendar, from Snapshot Press. The conflated time and place… Continue reading On a haiku by Phillip Murrell →

I’m very honoured to be judging the Martin Lucas Haiku Award for Presence this year. Presence relies heavily on income from this competition to keep going year on year, so please enter and/or tell your poet friends.

My day started well this morning by finding out that eminent poet, critic and prolific reviewer Billy Mills had posted a review of The Evening Entertainment among other reviews on his always-interesting Elliptical Movements blog. Whilst I hitherto wouldn’t have agreed that my poems are quite as formulaic as Billy implies, it’s useful to hear a viewpoint which… Continue reading Review of The Evening Entertainment and other news →

the old man’s hands make the shape of a pot . . . October sun I have previously remarked upon the sharp-eyed freshness of Jane McBeth’s haiku, but as Martin Lucas wrote (and I never tire of quoting), “Haiku isn’t as easy as just looking, and it isn’t as easy as it looks”. Knowing how… Continue reading On another haiku by Jane McBeth →

Two of the poets whom Cahal Dallat focused on in the week in Carnlough in August were Ciaran Carson and Lucie Brock-Broido, and so I’ve been reading both lately. I was already familiar with some of Carson’s poetry, though, as noted here before, I’ve read more of his prose than his poetry, but when I… Continue reading Some recent reading →

1 Every day I don the taciturn authority of a snooker referee. My clobber’s always beautiful: cufflinked shirt and Paras tie, narrowest-pinstripe three-piece suit and handstitched Oxford brogues. I could tell you about my three tours of Northern Ireland; the kills. These are deerskin-leather gloves I bear within my borough-crested cap. I loathe this poxy Vauxhall… Continue reading Three English Miniatures →

I spent the last week in August in Carnlough, on the Antrim Coast, on Anne-Marie Fyfe and Cahal Dallat’s Coffee-house Poetry week, and what a week it was. Anne-Marie’s inspirational exercises had the twenty of us participants drafting poems infused with blueness and on all things cloud-related. Cahal’s workshops on the writing of Sinéad Morrissey, Ciaran… Continue reading Carnlough and the Barbican →

Over on the Carcanet website there’s a blog post by the wonderful poet Roger Garfitt about the opening poem of The Action, which I've been enjoying very much. Last week, I re-read Roger's superb memoir, The Horseman’s Word too. His writing – whether poetry or prose – is so precise and full of beautiful detail. I’ll… Continue reading Roger Garfitt →

rustle of corn leaves— fitting my son for a new ball glove This haiku features among the August selections on this year’s Haiku Calendar, and is one I like very much. Chad Lee Robinson is one of the very best of the younger generation of American haiku poets. His excellent 2015 collection The Deep End of the… Continue reading On a haiku by Chad Lee Robinson →