From our resident poet
As our treasured Earth,
Orbits our life-sustaining Sun,
We, like trillions who have gone before,
Mark our brief passage through Life.
We create momentous occasions,
Sad or joyous,
With ceremonies which, with tradition,
Become a part of our existence.
In Nature, Season follows Season -
Little did we suspect that in 2020
Our lives would be so drastically affected.
Month upon weary month
Of separation and isolation.
For many, Christmas will never be the same again.
Hopefully, treasured memories
Of past happy times together
Will help assuage the absence of loved ones.
Ironically, if we look back
To the very first Christmas,
Mary and Joseph, fearful and unwelcome
In an alien environment,
Bravely bore all the discomforts,
Worries and their uncertain future,
And brought light, hope and love
Into our troubled world,
Which in 2020 will recall -
Certainly in a different way -
The birth of their Special Son,
Still the Light of our World.
Oh for the gift of prescience -
Eileen Murray © December 2020
NOVEMBER'S POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
Hold Dear The Memory
In times like these,
It's easy to forget traditions,
Which for over a century,
We have honoured.
They link us to a past
Where fear, terror, suffering and death
Stalked our precious earth.
War is a virus,
Indiscriminately spreading malicious roots.
We know how difficult it now is
To unite and fight a common enemy.
This year, streets will not echo
To military bands and proud marchers,
To tens of thousands
Standing in solemn silence -
Thoughts turned to all who fought bravely
Against a tenaciously deadly enemy.
Although, sadly, the traditional tributes
Are, currently, no longer viable,
Hidden deep within the psyche,
The thoughts, thanks and prayers
Can be a fitting Remembrance
Of the innocent victims
And our loved friends and relations
Who gallantly served
In the Cause of Freedom.
Even though we are locked down,
Our thoughts, gratitude and hearts
Eileen Murray © November 2020
COPIOSA APUD EUM REDEMPTIO
Apologies for Poetic Muse
Who's still inclined to Covid Snooze!
Nonetheless, we wish for you
A Day of Joy, "A Confreres' Do",
Memories, laughter, celebratory drink
(Observed within The Rule - we think!).
But, most of all, recall of Special Day,
When first shone forth incipient ray,
Which changed your life, and ours as well,
With dreams, triumphs and tales to tell.
Renaissance Man - so many parts -
We hold you close within our hearts,
Dear Father Tim!
© Eileen Murray 21 July 2020
We may not be able to produce our regular BE Alive magazine because of Lockdown, but our resident poet is still taking inspiration from the world around her and has sent in a poem, which we publish below:
There is a Time…………..
We live in an unpredictable world.
Despite the fonts of knowledge,
Accumulated across the centuries,
We are not Gods.
A THANK YOU POEM TO MARK DEACON JOHN'S RETIREMENT
As one angelic proclamation
Declared in the mystic annals
Of our beginnings.
This missive comes not from above,
Nor has its roots
In the dreaded declaration
Of a depressingly ensuing diatribe.
Not Quite Groundhog Day
Another day scarcely discernable
From yesterday - and probably from tomorrow-
Neighbours’ curtains, still drawn,
Reflect Life-style changes.
Yet in the sunlit garden,
Another life still flourishes.
A flock of twittering sparrows
Cavort joyously among the patio pots.
What is it that attracts
These chirpy, carefree creations?
On slender, wind-blown ferns,
Acrobatic feats and manoeuvres
Attract the attention
Of not only their flirting female companions,
But also one who watches, entranced.
A quick sortie for the phone.
Snaps or a video?
Try not to capture
The elderly reflection in the window!
Focus. Ready for action!
As if by touch of magician's wand,
An eruption of sparrows
Vacate their playground.
Perhaps, another David Bailey attempt later?
Not, alas, with photographic genius,
Just handfuls of mixed bird seed,
Presages a not-so-mundane afternoon!
Eileen Murray © 9 July 2020
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL
Our covetous world,
Stripped of all pretentions,
Trembles before invisibly marauding enemy.
For the first time since God knows when,
It is not the power-hungry territorial countries
Spreading unrest and even fear.
This secretive, all embracing entity
Has changed our civilised countries
Into ghostly communities.
Our homes for many, have become
A place of isolation
Missing the joy and solace
Of those who make life worth living.
No longer the sounds of children’s voices
Echo through the air.
SEPTEMBER'S POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
I stand transfixed,
As warm sunlight
Cascades on sparkling dewdrops.
The transfigured lawn
Becomes a place
Where every footfall matters.
Five dandelions sway in rhythm
To the dancing jewels –
A Chorus Line!
Tomorrow, you’ll be gone.
You perform by courtesy
Of the tall, tall gardener,
Who even at this moment
Will be sunning himself,
With his family,
Forgetful of the restraints
Which have bound us
For so long.
The blue, blue sky
Is broken by
The vapour trails
Of one single monoplane,
Which growls contentedly
Into the cloudless distance.
How long, how long
Can one feel such contentment?
What a pity
That the damp washing
Eileen Murray © September 2020
No magazine again, unfortunately, but Eileen Murray is once again on form and has sent us the following contribution: