She said that Aisling let her cut the sprigs. It is 3.15 p.m, it is Thursday, I am examining two rosemary sprigs their blue-green, their silver underlight. She is stripping the small base leaves from a third, tapping its heel, putting it in a glass of crystal-clear-water for planting out with the roses in October. I can taste lamb-stew with rowanberries, counting the trees– alternating Crab-apple Rowanberry Crab -apple Rowanberry that syncopated another’s drive— Memory insists that I stand on a bank of the River Tolka, upstream from Socrates and his garden of roses, those colours we tasted– For here is the place that we committed him to memory that black water– Glas Naíon, the stream of the infants, with petals, with flower-heads. © C. Murray “The Rosemary” is a short poem from Gold Friend (Turas Press, 2020). I recorded a version of it for Lyric FM (RTÉ) in late 2019. Thanks to Eithne Hand for recording the poems and to Evelyn Grant for broadcasting the first poem on 07/03/2020. The second poem in this short series will be ‘Aluine’s Gardens‘ from Cycles (Lapwing Press, 2013) will be broadcast in May 2020, link here. Poetry File – RTÉ (Podcast) Online URL: https://www.rte.ie/radio1/podcast/podcast_evelyngrantdrive.xml
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cold starlings beech gather their cacophonies to the gates copper -leaved golden -throned. Break bread for them, bring water for them. blue mountain, the sleeping houses a hot-house orchid Mabel chases her ball Beautyberries subsist, |her peripheries stripped| Wintering – a drop of rain blesses each white globe benediction for the tiny bird there Break bread for them, bring water for them. Snowdrops, cyclamens low flowers cling to the low sun ii. I left a winter-flowering almond tree Once— her white breath against a dull sky Him— Here, at the cross road where five places meet my flowers are resurrecting their pinks. Baby’s breath, in a tall blue jug belonging to Lily. She listens to the sea, South of here. Copyright Chris Murray 2022 -
Tree is real silver I. Birds tremble there alighting — (lighting) its stained glass recedes and within each bright ening light ening shape the song of a bird embeds a garnet— Each red-feathered song pewtering silver -ground on lazuli II. I see their (a) -lighting. They leaf the tree in the absence of bud, greening the tree Envoi: May Birds embed their gems secretly, beneath leaf Copyright 2022 Chris Murray First published Poetry Ireland Review N°138, "An Eavan Boland Special Issue" Editor, Nessa O'Mahony. Journals, and:bibliography, and: publication notes https://textworksite.com/journals-bibliography-publication-notes/
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from “Violence” I am breathing. I am breathing lightly as, light as, shell— / breath as, moth— / breath as, bird— / breath moon’s faces a triptych sets Mars’ red against turquoise— a sister, (less 6) ~ serious now, it is— (a purple sonority pageant of silks, their faces— dive of bird cuts through watered silk finds its level (frozen) we are mouth -bound crystalline gold cold— a) woman walks into winter © C. Murray 2022First published belfield literary review, issue 2, spring 2022, Eds. Paul Perry and Niamh Campbell.
BLR
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hook a hook for an eye this ribbon for a slip there’s a pigeon in the pot and tree makes the room your foot on the boards your head in the sky no mind if your stockings snag are splinter-caught the red thread frayed or snag walk now on swollen feet on feet that are bound-in with red and orange with stocking threads these can be mended these can be made whole again you wouldn’t even notice the tear spool red thread unravels in its wooden box sepulchred with: loose sequins button-bones needles wires a furled tape measure theres a jawed scissors for cutting rough cloth and linen-stuffs I am two: my bisection is equatorial not a vertical splice or gather-to walking broken-footed does little for my mermaid humour I’d rather lie in three: head torso and bottom-half : but they disallow me the luxury they have made this dress for me their cunning craft formed the exsosexo skeleton of my thigh-gap emblazoned with its stone whorl © Chris Murray 2016, 2021 PDF Download https://acrobat.adobe.com/link/review?uri=urn:aaid:scds:US:dd17e7fe-b082-365a-b523-0f4657803ac4#pageNum=1 Online URL https://indeliblelit.com/2022/03/03/hook-and-other-poems-by-chris-murray/?fbclid=IwAR3yKG4Ue4NDIqlLwownNvoYINa38ywYegQCzsdFlqvANOIowgVfB64gSV8 -
From the Lares Series. V. leaf // Settles Jewelling | nowhere her Garnets tempering | Scarlet on steel the Sky— a Leaf there is © Chris Murray
Published Poetry in Lockdown; A Pandemic Archive, UCD
Online URL: https://libguides.ucd.ie/lockdownpoetry
The Lares series was first published in The Indelible Literary Journal, January 2021 and was written in dedication to Eavan Boland (1944-2020)
Online URL: https://indeliblelit.com/2021/01/05/poetry-lares-series-by-christine-murray-2/
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the black mountains rise up cities cloud-urban citadels not the crow clang-tapping a tin post not the screel and soar of the gull can prevent it tails of berries strew the ground littered already with wasp-hasps wet leaves rain washed the trees out my body in its wet and dry calls yours it does not yearn for you I can snap your image from my mind at the crossing where life is my soul doing just as theirs in their everyday I watch them carry their validities like groceries the realities of their lives across streams of traffic observing the marvel of their feet carrying weight my feet-of-clay are in their wintering standing here observing reds deep dark greens I wish you away and move into them into their flow bit by bit the mountains have dissolved behind houses as magic cities surely do crows worry the long wet grass and the gull has soared to the sea red berries impinge when I crack their blood -bags into the ground their juices red underfoot I pick the threads snip them at their roots tidying this box of sharp things scissors and needles neat and sweet the box smells of vanilla freesia and some other thing I put the scissors away it smells of cedar
winter street by C. Murray was first published by One Jacar Press (January 2020) and collected in Gold Friend (Turas Press, 2020)
Online URL: http://one.jacarpress.com/issue-20/#Chris%20Murray
“rip” by steven DaLuz -
My poem Nocturne for Voices One and Two – excerpted below this note, was first published in the book Gold Friend (Turas Press, 2020). Una Lee produced the poem in her album Songs to stay awake to in 2020. Una Lee’s interpretation of the poem is featured in How The World Begins Again- Irish Women In Sound and Music – Episode 2 – by Elizabeth Hilliard for RTE Lyric FM.
Online URL: How The World Begins Again – Irish Women in Sound and Music – Episode 2
In the new RTÉ lyric fm radio and podcast series How the World Begins Again, singer Elizabeth Hilliard meets twenty women: composers and sound artists connected to the island of Ireland.
They share their stories, their inspirations, creativity and challenges as they connect the listener to their work. Episode two of How the World Begins Again features Una Lee, sound artist performing “Nocturne for Voices One and Two” by Chris Murray. The Nocturne was published in the book “Gold Friend” (Turas Press, 2020).
Una Lee’s project Songs to stay awake to can be downloaded here.
Elizabeth Hilliard’s Website
The full text of the poem ‘Nocturne for Voices One and Two’ follows
Voice One Sea pummels shore, wind and reed knock trees, winter trees’ wooded music is not green-sapped, But yet, yet but, and alone. The moon is all? Soul whispers reed (...) Soul troubles the wing, soul gathers in the dewy morning and the heart it ties to. Quiet!
Voice Two Moon is not all, while the restive sea and you separate. Silence, quiet. Quiet, peace!
Voice One And sleep now? For, bird skims dark waters bird skims silver streams streams encroach on the bay stream sieves the sand
And sleep now – In silence, peaceably. The moon is all It lights a trail.
Voice One It is with the voice of longing that you speak, close your eyes that mock the moon. Close your eyes that tremble on the reed, close your eyes that discern the wing,
not distance, not distance from – Voice Two Separated separating (...)
Voice One and Voice Two We do not in our bodies meet Voice Two The moon is all. It is an emptiness. The moon is all, the moon is all – –
Voice One And sleep, and dream with? Or a wisp of memory to wake a nothing from cold sun, What now, sleep? Not grieve. Voice Two Quiet!
Soul whispers reed (...) Soul troubles the wing, soul gathers in the dewy morning and the heart it ties to. Quiet! Voices One and Two
Moon is grey, a ship, the bay — Silver-stream of thistle, of reed, tumble of mountain. To dream with you, to dream with you. again-she-sleeps. Quiet, peace!
Copyright Chris Murray, 2020, 2021
First published Gold Friend, Turas Press, 2020.
Online URL https://turaspress.ie/shop/gold-friend-by-chris-murray/
This poem was produced by Una Lee for Songs to stay awake to Online Url Bandcamp download link https://unalee.bandcamp.com/
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Amber thrones Wearing dark robes they send their light Down / \ below / a bird / note / rises / up
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sans it is all ceremony it is all the cloths all gathered-in it is white tailor’s chalk in a neat triangle it is the blanket-stitch before the machine it is the neighbour woman with her bone-pick pulling stitches one by one from the curtain lining the [bone-pick] is ivory coloured a little larger than a [tooth-pick] nubbed to cradle under the silks and lift them up so she can snip it at the ties the little knot hidden in back of the material stretched out across her knees is silver the thread is doubled-to her material is some floral-stuff on white laid onto a cream skirting she will rinse it out in cold water later and hang it on the monday line the blue-blue rope of the monday line the length of material is clean / sweaty from her handiwork she will hang it over the gauze of her nets which are always immaculate her effort is blind she does not need eyes to feel her work her gathering-to of the pleats Copyright 2013 Chris Murray Published Southword Online URL http://www.munsterlit.ie/Southword/Issues/25/murray_christine.html Collected The Blind, Oneiros Books, 2013
Chris Murray 