I like the Poetry Village website a lot, so I'm delighted to have a poem on it today: ‘The Steepler’.
Last week, I was on an Arvon course at Lumb Bank – a ‘retreat with walking’, tutored, or, more accurately, led, by local mapmaker extraordinaire Chris Goddard and novelist–poet Paul Kingsnorth. Being in Ted Hughes Country in a heatwave meant that I had the time and opportunity to take huge delight in the landscape. Chris knew… Continue reading Widdop
The excellent poet Matt Barnard has kindly used a poem of mine from The Evening Entertainment on his British Life in Poetry blog.
In a recent piece in New Socialist, Joe Kennedy analyses the regrettably spurious claim that several British, or more specifically English, works of the last couple of years are ‘Brexit novels’. It’s an interesting read, no more so than when he touches upon Paul Kingsnorth, labelled by the Telegraph as ‘the Bard of Brexit’, and his extraordinary,… Continue reading On Paul Kingsnorth’s The Wake
Next Tuesday, 29th May, I’ll be one of the nine Red Door Poets reading at the Teahouse Theatre in Vauxhall. It’ll be a really good evening of poetry and music. All for free!
Below are my reviews of two haiku books in Presence #60. * Chuck Brickley, earthshine Snapshot Press, Orchard House, High Lane, Ormskirk, L40 7SL; £11.99; ISBN 978-1-903543-43-6. Paul Chambers, Latitudes Alba Publishing, PO Box 266, Uxbridge, UB9 5NX; £10/€14/US$15; ISBN 978-1-910185-74-2. Sometimes reading and reviewing two books in parallel can be very rewarding; especially if… Continue reading Reviews in Presence 60
If Jung was right, as he surely was, that synchronicity rules, one couldn’t be surprised that, at any given time, two or more poets are wrestling with the same problem. Thus it was that when my fellow Eyewear Publishing poet, another Matthew with a surname that can be a first name and, like me, born… Continue reading Then Again
A few days each in Cromer and Norwich and then 24 (long) hours in Lowestoft constituted more than enough time in the melancholy milieu of WG Sebald. Fittingly, a mist - more than a sea fret, marginally less than a fog but wet enough to dampen the hair and clog the lungs - lurked wherever we… Continue reading Sebaldian again: of Norwich and Lowestoft
On my weekend running route from Surbiton to Hampton Court and back – Surbiton, Long Ditton, Esher, East Molesey, Hampton Court, over the bridge, along the Thames towpath to Kingston, over Kingston bridge, through the market, the back-roads including the ascent of Cranes Park, back to Surbiton – I pass two blue plaques, the first… Continue reading On Cuneo, Sebald and Hamburger
I'm not sure who decided that today is World Poetry Day, but why not? Here's a poem from The Evening Entertainment. THE KITCHEN GARDEN On Capability Brown’s last visit to this well-temperèd chalkland estate, he plumped for action instead of advice: training espaliers of local pears, which would otherwise have become extinct, against ev’ry… Continue reading World Poetry Day