In the spirit of pointless, subjective artistic judgements, here’s the roundup you’ve all been waiting for. Including the MOST BRILLIANTLY DESCRIBED MESS OF A BOOK FILLED, ASHTRAY CHOKED BEDROOM AWARD.
In praise of small things, especially a new cemetery gate.
Ok, I didn’t win, but I’ll happily take Highly Commended in Rialto Nature and Place Competition 2025 thank you very much.
Drawn by myth, stunned by reality. A trip to Transylvania.
A mysterious letter. A secret journal. An ancient wood, in borderland territory. Deceptive paths and strange, ghostlike figures, stirring at the edge of the trees…
Like many commentators, I found Jenrick’s bodged defection a bit funny. However, the rise of Reform, or deform as I have it here is not. At all. This bit of ‘fun’, below, is the kind of thing that happens when freelancers like me have too much downtime. Thanks to Dave Tokley for help with putting…
Back in March, I was interviewed by Andrew Stuck for the Talking Walking Podcast. Here it is, along with a cheering birdsong chorus.
Experimenting with poetic forms – here I have a go at a Villanelle – possibly the least ‘me’ form of all.
Apparently, there’s a thing called ‘Performative Reading’ and the ‘internet’ or rather some Insta/TikTok 20-something lol-merchants don’t like it. Here’s a blog on it with a bonus new poem.
My backhanded, somewhat grudging tribute to Bath, from a Bristolian.
A love letter to libraries, in the form of a poem. ‘Library Stamps’ by Matt Gilbert
I’m very pleased have a new poem up on the Black Nore Review website. Not least because they are based in the West Country and their logo is a silhouette of Portishead’s Black Nore Lighthouse (coincidentally, there’s a poem about it in my book Street Sailing). Click the link below to read ‘it’Locked In’. Locked…
Some places are so famous, so iconic, it might be said that they visit you long before you return the favour…
Once upon a time in Norwood Park, there was a magic world of willows…
A while ago, I wrote a poem about the experience of buying records in shops, as a kind of post-streaming, tribute to the irreplaceable, tactile, sensory atmosphere of physical stores. The poem ‘Unfulfilled Playlist’ has now been published on Wild Court, where you can read it.
There’s a new poem below. I don’t tend to like explaining poems, but I do appreciate a bit of context. Like many others I suspect, not least in the USA itself, I feel profoundly shaken by recent events there. When I was six, I discovered Charlie Brown cartoons, encouraged by an American exchange student assistant…
The meaning of ‘meh’ or the beautiful mystery of subjectivity.
I’ve deleted my twitter account. Why? Ought to be obvious – The extreme-right owner and the wannabe dictator. This George Carlin sketch articulates the issue well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsL6mKxtOlQ I felt increasingly uncomfortable clinging on for some months now.Twitter isn’t what it was, but please look at my poems anyway… I didn’t sit right with me doing…
Dear First Name
Will you help us?
It’s getting late.
Do not ignore the horror
in your inbox. The situation’s stark.
Welcome back to The Book Bag. Last week, I shared my thoughts on The Language of Bees by Rae Howells. This week, between Sax practice, attending my … The Book Bag – Street Sailing by Matt Gilbert
Four new poems – October 2024.
Heron as Anglo-Saxon style warrior, a paean to a vintage alarm clock, a march, a terrible pun on an old car.
All four first appeared on Black Bough Poetry’s TopTweetTuesday.
This article was originally published on Mono Fiction in 2021 – sadly the magazine and site seems to be no more. The approach it outlines still applies to a lot of the posts, which appear on this blog and often my poetry. Guest blogger, Matt Gilbert talks about finding writing inspiration in the seemingly mundane……
The poems below were shared on Twitter for Black Bough Poetry’s Top Tweet Tuesday.Recent challenges have been to write very short, imagist poems on a variety of themes – including weather and wonder and birds. All but one were written specially for this – often the night before. Sometimes they work out quite well –…
Three new poems, recently shared on Twitter as part of Black Bough Poetry’s #toptweettuesday Brussels to Bruges Considered through train carriage windows, agitated rooks and solitary horses twist necks to eye them. They’re everywhere. Squattingby ditch and stream, in tight organic knots – coppiced willows. Stools tracing lines across flat lands. Borders, vertical as much as horizontal. A coiled army…
Richly Evocative 