Tag: Poetry

Loch Ness Monster, Stamped Long | Poetry

Loch Ness Monster, stamped long

Across a once-round coin.

A penny,

Pressed into nothing,

Into something more than money.

What route to the heavy, glass-bound rollers?

Which grasping hands, dark pockets, upholstery crevices before

Arriving iron-smelling, earth-born, newly pressed again?

How many through my own fingers

From museums and galleries,

Raucous funfairs and till-chimed gift shops?

Lost, slipped behind dust-bound bookshelves

Or down churning gutters beneath rumbling, work-bound feet.

That fate perhaps,

But for now a clammy, toddler’s hand

An o-shaped mouth,

A treasure, gleaming gold.

Continue reading “Loch Ness Monster, Stamped Long | Poetry” →

Creep and Curl | Haiku

Morning folks,

It’s been wild, wet, and windy here in Scotland, where Autumn has made itself known this week. Hopefully these are a couple of haiku to speak to this…

Creep

Breached riverbanks. Creep

Of foam-swirled menace towards

Sandbag-stacked doorframes.

Curl

Weather turning. An

Edged wind, the first curling of

Leaves once lush, once lithe.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Ian S and Pixabay. My recent short stories include ‘Little Daily Miracles‘ and ‘Those Abroad‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Cobble and Cloud | Haiku

Autumn has arrived in Scotland this week with the coming of Storm Agnes. I have a couple of thematic haiku, although we’re not quite in frosty territory just yet…

A cobbled street lit by streetlights on a misty night

Cobble

Ribbons of coal smoke

Low over cobbled closes,

Under icy eaves.

Read more: Cobble and Cloud | Haiku
Clogged gutters in a rainstorm

Cloud

Gutters brim-full with

Birds’ nests and leaves, moss and mulch.

Bruised clouds overhead.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Brock Roseberry and Alan Devine. My recent short stories include ‘Little Daily Miracles‘ and ‘Those Abroad‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Claw and Quieten | Haiku

I was able to make the titles of my haiku alliterative this week, so all is well in the world again. We’re hanging off the trees and running through rock this week…

Leaves beginning to turn in autumn

Claw

Slow, first withering.

A once-plush leaf beginning

To claw, to crumple

Read more: Claw and Quieten | Haiku
Stacked slates

Quieten

Subterranean

Run through slate-laden strata,

Through long-quietened mines.

*Thanks for reading, folks. images courtesy of George Hodan and Spodzone. My recent short stories include ‘The Lamplighter‘ and ‘Those Abroad‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Bristle and Mulch | Haiku

Morning folks,

whilst I usually like to utilise alliteration or assonance in my double-haiku titles, this week’s creations simply wouldn’t go that way, hence the below, slightly idiosyncratic, pairing…

A field of wheat against a blue sky

Bristle

Bristled, finger-brushed,

Wind-shifted and sun-beaten.

Pale green to yellow.

Read more: Bristle and Mulch | Haiku
Compost maker

Mulch

Plant pot remains, damp

Cuttings and dinner leavings.

From messy to mulched.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Former image Copyright Matthew J. Richardson. Second image courtesy of Wikipedia. My recent short stories include ‘The Lamplighter‘ and ‘After‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Shrill and Swell | Haiku

A couple of salt-flecked haiku this morning…

Shrill

Shrill-whistled calling.

Wheeling white, black, and orange –

Oystercatcher’s flight.

Swell

Double-flash…dark.

A paraffin carousel

On Atlantic swell.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Wikipedia and Chris Downer. My recent short stories include ‘Digging‘ and ‘After‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Drought and Spate at Upper Glendevon | Poetry

Upper Glendevon Dam

Below,

Water-worn

Dry stone bones,

Loose in rheumy mud gums.

A shepherd’s shieling, uncovered

By humming sun

And streams-stopped-running.

Earthbound pottery ossicles

Litter a river-licked,

Slick loch bottom,

Flanked by Ochil hills

And the bulking hulk

Of Upper Glendevon Dam.

Above,

Bruised cumuli hang ribboned between the hill heads,

Broiling, born amongst corries and high-strewn boulders.

A rumble, and rain films on the moors,

Through suddenly sodden fleece and field,

Flicked and shivered from huddled feathers,

Amidst the peat banks and the tufted grass,

Guttering, gathered in the crooked dykes –

Trickling in earshot but out of sight, and

Rushing underneath the dog-eared booms.

Below,

A rippling, a gathering pour,

A foetal push onto cracked reservoir floor.

At the shieling, moor-cold, alluvial fingers grope between weathered stone joints,

Curling under where eaves once hung.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Rob Burke. My recent short stories include ‘Digging‘ and ‘After‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.