In Thrall

As our treasured Earth,

Hypnotically magnetic,

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 -

Sometimes unpredictable.

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 -

Perhaps not!


Eileen Murray © December 2020


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

Remain unfettered.   

Eileen Murray © November 2020



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.


Deacon JOhn




"Fear not."

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.

JULY'S POEM...... 

Not Quite Groundhog Day

Another day scarcely discernable

From yesterday - and probably from tomorrow-

Arrives prosaically.

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?

Perilously balanced

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


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.



I stand transfixed,

Arms washing-filled,

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

Demands attention!      

Eileen Murray © September 2020



No magazine again, unfortunately, but Eileen Murray is once again on form and has sent us the following contribution: