Born in Kilchreest, Loughrea, Co. Galway in 1943, he took up a teaching position in Listowel in 1966.
His first book of poetry 'Droving' was launched at Writers' Week, Listowel in 2003.
He read at The Baffle Festival, and the West Cork Literary Festival and in Victoria, Canada. His poem ‘The Instrument' was read on Radio One by Ciarán Mac Mathúna. ‘Stepping Away' appeared in West 47. He was in the top 30 in the Poemhunter contest a few years ago.
His second collection of poems 'Falling Apples' was launched at Writers'Week, Listowel in 2010.It's available for purchase on line at Original Writing Ltd, from Kenny's Books on line and from Amazon.
It can be downloaded as an e book as well. His third collection, Earth to Earth, was published in 2015
He has been guest reader in The White House Poetry Pub and 'On the Nail' in Limerick, at Ó Bhéal in Cork and Bantry's West Cork Literary Festival, Loughrea's Baffle and Ó Raiftearaí festival. and has been a feature reader on occasions on the online Lime Square Poets and Cultivating Voices. He has been a first prize winner with his poem Éalú at the Ballylongford Bardic Festival and a prizewinner also at the Ballybunion Arts Festival. His poems have been published in The Blue Nib, The Stony Thursday Book Feasta, The Irish Independent, Poetry Breakfast, West 47, in The Applicant, the First Cut, The Galway Review online and in the Galway Review Anthologies 3,4 5,6 and 7 as well as in the Amaravati Poetic Prism 2018 and 2019 Anthologies; also in the Anthologies 'I Can't Breathe' and 'Ukraine: Poems of War' and 'Immagine & Poesia' as well as in Canto Planetaria in Spanish and in Irish. His third collection of poetry 'Earth to Earth' was published by the Galway Academic Press in 2015.
His fourth collection 'The Singing Woods' was published in 2017. His fifth and sixth collections were published in 2021, Steering by the Stars and Éalú. All available from his website: mattmooneypoetry.com
The clearness of a dream
I had in bed last night
Has dimmed at dawn-
I'm awake and looking west,
...
Goodbyes at the open front door
On a Sunday morning in Summer;
An aeroplane shines in the sun;
At home I can learn about solitude.
...
What’s that?
That sound from the wood!
Does that bare tree complain a lot?
It does not!
...
Scents of the Summer, incense to his senses,
The boy walks barefoot most of the way.
By hills of furze bushes above the soft bog,
Though ever so slowly the river flows free
...
A tall man bends low,
While there is time,
To pick up a lost coin
Lying in the bus lane,
...