Les Murray

(17 October 1938)

Comments about Les Murray

  • jada fassom (5/22/2019 11:15:00 PM)

    i have fat crush on jessie VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVv

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  • Lexi Nevins (5/22/2019 10:34:00 PM)

    follow me @lexi_ava and ill eat your

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  • jada fassom (5/22/2019 1:29:00 AM)

    i like big heads............................................................

    1 person liked.
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  • alanah clelland (5/22/2019 1:16:00 AM)

    follow me on instagram @alanahclelland and abuse the out of me. i'll suck your for a dollar

    2 person liked.
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  • Prabir Gayen Prabir Gayen (12/15/2018 9:27:00 AM)

    Very good poet of life..............

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • deakin (10/16/2018 9:26:00 PM)

    hello headadasdsadsadas

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  • Man person (8/15/2018 4:34:00 PM)

    As an absolutely ordinary rainbow
    Thanks bro

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  • lueka (6/5/2018 4:11:00 AM)

    ey bro i love your work my man thanks for helping me with my HSC year 12

    5 person liked.
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  • bobby (6/5/2018 12:26:00 AM)

    aye yo wasp homie, I jus wanted to say dat dis poem is gr88888

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  • crackrock (4/25/2018 11:46:00 PM)

    aye mannn I liked dis poem aye these dogs didn't let me post the 1st time so aye shot g

    5 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
Best Poem of Les Murray

An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow

The word goes round Repins,
the murmur goes round Lorenzinis,
at Tattersalls, men look up from sheets of numbers,
the Stock Exchange scribblers forget the chalk in their hands
and men with bread in their pockets leave the Greek Club:
There's a fellow crying in Martin Place. They can't stop him.

The traffic in George Street is banked up for half a mile
and drained of motion. The crowds are edgy with talk
and more crowds come hurrying. Many run in the back streets
which minutes ago were busy main streets, pointing:
There's a fellow weeping down there. No one can...

Read the full of An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow

Amanda's Painting

In the painting, I'm seated in a shield,
coming home in it up a shadowy river.
It is a small metal boat lined in eggshell
and my hands grip the gunwale rims. I'm
a composite bow, tensioning the whole boat,
steering it with my gaze. No oars, no engine,
no sails. I'm propelling the little craft with speech.
The faded rings around the loose bulk shirt
are of five lines each, a musical lineation

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