Saturday 5 November 2016

1 Poem by Pearse Murrray

The Timbre of That

The plonk of water on water
The crack of a birch tree falling
The slash of a machete through cane
The plink of rain on a tin roof
The crunch of walking on snow
The swift swoop of swallows
The pluck of a gut string
The crash of ash on a hurling field
And the swill swash through sand grains
The pop of cork from a wine bottle
The ping of the mason’s trowel
The chinkle of loose change
The swoosh of leaves in a forest
The ricochet from a bullet

And the soft fall of leaf-drift
And the soft fall of snow as
The soft fall of a child’s whispering secrets
Amd the soft fall of this music which
Enters softly and softly thrums
the soundless soul’s fullness of attentiveness.


Pearse Murray is a native of Dublin and lives in upstate New York. He has published  poems and short stories in a wide variety of review journals, anthologies  in print and on-line.

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