Les Murray

(17 October 1938)

Les Murray Poems

1. The Cows on Killing Day 2/1/2016
2. The Margin of Difference 3/23/2017
3. Self and Dream Self 3/23/2017
4. Vertigo 3/23/2017
5. Blowfly Grass 3/23/2017
6. Bottles in the Bombed City 3/23/2017
7. The Head-Spider 3/23/2017
8. Holland's Nadir 3/23/2017
9. Photographing Aspirations 3/23/2017
10. To Fly In Just Your Suit 3/23/2017
11. Observing The Mute Cat 3/23/2017
12. Child Logic 3/23/2017
13. Science Fiction 3/23/2017
14. Ripe In The Arbours Of The Nose 3/23/2017
15. The Holy Show 3/23/2017
16. The farm terraces 3/23/2017
17. I wrote a little haiku 3/23/2017
18. The Conversations 3/23/2017
19. Nursing Home 3/23/2017
20. High-Speed Bird 3/23/2017
21. The Moon man 3/23/2017
22. Panic Attack 3/23/2017
23. The Broad Bean Sermon 3/23/2017
24. Spermaceti 3/23/2017
25. Quintets for Robert Morley 3/23/2017
26. Ernest Hemingway and the Latest Quake 3/23/2017
27. Water-gardening in an Old Farm Dam 3/23/2017
28. The New Hieroglyphics 1/13/2003
29. Towards The Imminent Days (Section 4) 1/13/2003
30. The Quality Of Sprawl 1/13/2003
31. Travels With John Hunter 1/13/2003
32. The Instrument 10/10/2011
33. The Sleepout 1/13/2003
34. The Mowed Hollow 1/13/2003
35. The Harleys 1/13/2003
36. Amanda's Painting 1/13/2003
37. On The Borders 1/13/2003
38. Cockspur Bush 1/13/2003
39. The Images Alone 1/13/2003
40. The Butter Factory 1/13/2003

Comments about Les Murray

  • Robert Norton (4/17/2018 5:45:00 PM)

    At the end of 2016, we made a documentary interview with Les Murray and Valerie Murray at their home in Bunyah. The video is now available at:

    https: //vimeo.com/254992802

    You may want to use this video to see a current snapshot of Les and Valerie. There is no cost, but would appreciate it if you do so.

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  • Bhagavathi Sudarshan (8/11/2008 3:02:00 AM)

    Nodoubt its a very fantastic poem. It's my al time favourite! Its so simple, yet so profound. Long live my sweetest poet Les Murray!
    Bhagavathi Sudarshan

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

On The Borders

We're driving across tableland
somewhere in the world;
it is almost bare of trees.

Upland near void of features
always moves me, but not to thought;
it lets me rest from thinking.

I feel no need to interpret it

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