John Murrry

John Murrry Poems

By death-time pronounced for word takers - sent shrill
came 10,000 moonics - flew down from the hill
...

Waterfall words splash tired closing mind -
eyes flicker - churning - relentless search
...

Colours just refracted pitch
as shades of self reflect within
...

A sentry held & gazed to fight
alone I stood and welded firm.
...

A dream slip - as a night flick rolls
beyond weak grip and outside find
...

November solitude - an interlude-
new Rhythms- shape a change in mood-
...

John Murrry Biography

If space and time, as sages say, Are things which cannot be, The fly that lives a single day Has lived as long as we. But let us live while yet we may, While love and life are free, For time is time, and runs away, Though sages disagree. (TS Elliot) Hi to everyone, After not writing anything for 14 years I have decided to start again. I write from simple and shallow to deep and abstract - all in-between-no rules! Hope you like some of my poems. I have never really tried to publish or shown them to anyone before. I have never received any feedback up till now so i would welcome any comments good, bad or in-between and give reviews freely to others Best wishes to all, John)

The Best Poem Of John Murrry

War Of Words (Contemporary V Abstract)

By death-time pronounced for word takers - sent shrill
came 10,000 moonics - flew down from the hill

An anointed collective - en-mass - darkly formed
passioned earth crust collated - for souls yet un-mourned

Stern archers awaited and strengthened loose backs-
raised neck hair of cavalry snapped back to its cracks

And all was a valley - surreal and unchanged –
where certainty vanished - captured madness in frames

Staggered breath - shredded shivers through misted vent came
a sent wind chose dead-screamed our widows by name

And all was a valley – surreal and unchanged –
as mashed hoards of manics- merged unhinged with deranged

Commenced to attack - set an eagle - our gaze –
mighty wizards from dim world - spelt hell fire with praise

Twisted eyes of the foe rained about us to drain –
their sprit of hate lust – that quenched from our pain

When morning awoke every last word was said
every syllable broached - every last letter dead

And all was a valley – surreal and in flames –
as two worlds of words - both convictions lay slain

John Murrry Comments

Marion Miller 05 June 2014

Does anyone have a contact for John Murtagh please? Thanks Marion

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Marion Miller 05 June 2014

Does anyone know a contact for john murtagh?

0 0 Reply

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