Paul Matthews poet

Paul Matthews lives in Forest Row. Five Seasons Press has published his poetry. His sourcebook, Sing Me the Creation (Hawthorn Press) arises from his teaching of creative writing. See
Being No One

Now that I’ve stopped
my work my world
narrows into one
small garden
where a pigeon come
to the frozen birdbath
dips its beak then
stands bewildered.


This ordinary morning
when the rubbish truck
squeezes its way
down our narrow lane
the men toiling in its wake
will trundle this garden waste
across the courtyard
and as they lift
the lid of the bin a brief
hosanna of mint
will startle their nostrils


This plastic tabletop
serves me well enough
to poise an elbow
as I mark
how the morning sun
burnishes the edges
of a leaf then
deigns to touch my face
with the fame of
being no one.

Breaking News

This begins with no one
to tell why the Earth
holds so much hurt in it –

the refugee children
waving their cold
hands at the camera

as if to say yes it is
me here in the wilderness
fettered to my small bones

and yet how
beautifully the snow
skirmishes around this tent

that at random
I have been thrown into
by quarrels I never started.
[The middle section of ‘Being No One’ by Paul Matthews appeared previously in Caduceus.]
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