From our resident poet

A TRIBUTE TO FR TOM MOLLOY C.SSR BY OUR PARISH POET

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

You would have enjoyed the occasion.

But, sadly for us,

You were invited to Another Prestigious Event,

Which no one is allowed to reject.

Nevertheless, unsurprisingly,

You were the principal motif

In the lovely procedures

Which celebrated your long, fruitful life.

Relations and friends gathered

In a place familiar to you,

Remembering and recounting the many occasions

When your smile, humour and joie de vivre,

Momentarily drew us into your Unique world.

Family and friends read meaningful passages,

  Close Confreres celebrated the sacred rituals,

Stirring organ music, accompanied by tuneful vocals,

Andre Bocelli's throat-catching recording of “Ave Maria”,

Drifted heavenwards through shafts of sunlight.

Reverential obsequies performed,

Under cloudless, blue skies and sparkling sun,

A crocodile of chattering devotees

Assembled to add the final chord,

To your touching, memorable farewell.

And what a feast it was!

All the Staff – cooks, carers, ancillaries,

Who had cared for you –

And whose lives you had touched –

Produced detectable Fare,

 Which would have set you singing!

And so ended a special day.

Sad? Of course.

Nostalgic?  Certainly.

But,

Hearts full of thanksgiving and happiness.

We had trodden on your Path,

Perhaps briefly,

But what memories we shall treasure!

Eileen Murray © September 2026

A POEM ON THE PASSING OF FR CASEY

PARTING

As Innocents born into our mystical world,

We quickly discover the parameters

That determine the length and quality

Of our mortal existence;

If there is a beginning,

There must be an end.

As Life unfolds,

Joys and sorrows mark the years

With indelible nuances

Of events, places and people.

The Bishop Eton confreres and parishoners

Mourn the loss of one unique Scot

Who touched their worlds – not flamboyantly,

But with charming erudition and humorous wit.

He led a life of loving devotion and service

To his Redemptorist Vows and Confreres,

Brave to the end.

Thank you, Dear Father Jim.

We shall miss you –

Until we meet again!

Eileen Murray © 30 April 2026

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

The final present is wrapped with love

Then secreted away.

All possible preparations for the coming day complete,

The hectic plethora of minutiae

Of the passing weeks

Dissolve into history.

The time draws near

And we, like Shepherds, but presentless,

Set forth upon our way,

Though no star of Bethlehem to guide

But Jupiter and the Moon

 Resplendent in their glory.

No sound of footsteps, but ours,

Echo on the diamond pavements.

A solitary car swooshes past -

A premature Father Christmas Intent on destination:

The presents must arrive on time

Or all is lost!

As we near our Stable,

Carriages of the Kings,

Also intent on paying homage,

Swish through the silence

Of the lamp-lit streets

The sound of voices floats jovially,

Upon the cold night air.

The light and warmth issuing through open door

Draws us, now chilled, into familiar milieu.

We quietly sit, perhaps reflecting

On times now gone,

Until the piping of the organ

 Bids us be merry.

 Time swiftly passes

 In the sound of voices raised in praise,

Incense ascending, memories scenting,

Bells ringing and rejoicing,

Union in our shared Communion,

And The Light of the World,

A Baby, not merely terracotta,

Innocently lying in a manger.

This year, may the message of Christmas

Spread its gentle mantle over our troubled world. 

  Eileen Murray © December  2025

3×20 + 10×2 - A POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

 To mark Fr Tim's 80th Birthday, our resident poet has created a new poem

3×20 + 10×2

So -

 Another milestone reached

On Life’s serendipitous Journey -

And still around!

Still able to enjoy the simple pleasures

That link you with a Past

Redolent with people, places, occasions,

Which moulded, influenced, polished

The Entity celebrating this Special Day.

It is a time for Nostalgia,

A time for Thanksgiving,

A time to know

That a plethora of Love, Prayers, Best Wishes,

Surround you on your Path

To a future, as yet, unknown,

But hopefully,

Bright with all the Blessings

That you hold close, in your heart.

Eileen Murray © 19 September 2026

RESURRECTION - A POEM BY OUR RESIDENT POET

RESURRECTION

Green spears peeping through the earth,

Intimations of re-birth.

Snowdrops braving Winter’s cold.

Daffodils streaming, sparkling, bold,

Flood the faded world with gold.

Crocuses of different hue

The sterile soil with life renew.

Spritely robin flirts and sings

To give our earth-bound spirits wings.

Buds on leaden branches swell,

Lengthening days do Spring foretell.

May Christ in Triumph succour all

Who suffer, helplessly in thrall.

Let all of Easter’s blessings bring

The happiness of Eternal Spring.

Eileen Murray ©

THE SEED - NOVEMBER'S POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

THE SEED

November swirls in on misty mornings

And early darkening days.

It isa mystical month –

A time of myths, of restless spirits,

Of ghosts,

Of remembrance of the past.

Halloween and Bonfire Night,

With all the celebrations, pageantry and practices,

Are laid to rest

As the last fusillade of fireworks

Fades in the night sky of Bonfire Night.

Yet, all is not done.

Before Christmas holds sway

We have a perennial duty

To recall and give thanks

To those who died in conflicts,

Lasting more than 100 years,

So Justice, Freedom and Peace could prevail.

Many will remember

In formal parades, prayers

And the laying of poppy wreaths

At cenotaphs across the lands.

Some, will attend familiar places of worship,

Others, in the innermost confines of their hearts.

What really matters

Is that we remember, now,

And nurture the precious seed,

So that present and future generations

Will keep alight the memory

Of All who perished in the cause of freedom.

Eileen Murray © November 2025

YES WE REMEMBER - A POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

This poem marks Bishop Ralph's Golden Jubilee of ordination.

YES, WE REMEMBER

How can it be

So many years have flown,

Yet, enduring BE flock

Still remember the gentle shepherd’s

Tender care and warmth.

But, as Redemptorist protocol prescribes,

Our cherished pastors

Move on to enigmas new.

No mystery who updated us

With snippets of your progress –

In familiar homeland

And even warmer climes!

Now, Your Odyssey has run full circle.

Dear Ralph,

Ever true to your vows and principles,

On this Golden Celebration,

You are in our hearts and prayers.

Eileen Murray © 10 July 2026

A VALENTINE POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

SWEET VALENTINE

We never were the types who bought.

Expensive gifts, gigantic cards –

Flamboyantly proclaiming undying love.

As the years passed, suffice to write.

A recorded poem, light-hearted or nostalgic,

To celebrate a love,

Consuming, unchanging, immortal.

Like all young sweethearts,

Valentine’s Day was welcomed.

As an enlightenment

Of cold, dark, dreary, winter days

And a promise of an unknown future.

We did not notice the Commercial Spoiler,

As Time sped ever faster.

The tender kiss on blushing cheek,

The simple posy, three heartfelt words –

All flown.

Be nostalgically happy this year.

Valentines’ Day lives on;

In our minds, in our hearts,

In vividly loving remembrances

Of our Everyday Valentines,

Who dwell now in the Realms of Love,

Unconcerned with the mortal trappings

Surrounding this day.

Ah, Sweetest Valentine!

Roses may be red,

Violets deepest blue.

You live on in our hearts.

We’ll, forever, remember you.

Eileen Murray © February 2026

SANCTUARY  - A POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET

SANCTUARY

There is a special place,

Guarded by hallowed sandstone walls –

Witnesses of the passage of history

Over more than two centuries.

Once through the listed, decorative gateway,

Past transfixing war memorial,

Another almost forgotten world draws you closer

To those who served in this Community,

With love and devotion.

Cross upon cross recalls

Names, dates – and memories

Of those who rest peacefully in the Lord.

A left turn, a few paces forward,

Until the heavy doors open and close with a solid clunk –

As they have done, year upon year.

The outside world is abandoned.

Historic stained-glass windows, a crucifix, statues, flowers,

And the public Jewel of Bishop Eton,

Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, listening,

In the flickering of votive lights lit by many supplicants.

All is still -

Not because no one is here.

There is a diverse congregation;

Some kneeling, others, older, who sit.

The silence is warmly tangible.

What thoughts engage their consciousness?

For the next forty-five minutes, we are all one.

We pray, we sing, we smile.

We are united in Communion.

Worries dissipate.

Our world of fear, disaster, inhumanity,

Becomes less relevant.

Hearts aglow with peace and promises,

We stream through open doors,

To continue our everyday lives.

Autumnal leaves drift silently

Onto yesteryears’ faithful confrères.

A solitary bird warbles valediction,

To the snaking line of cars homeward bound.

The Green Man tweaks his approval.

 And we, in amicable asides and laughter,

Crunch our way down tree-lined Taggart Avenue.

And for a few precious minutes,

All is right with the world.

A thought.

Could you, perchance,

Forgo the extra, cherished, weekend hour abed?

There is a special place –

Not far away!

Eileen Murray © October 2025

ESCAPE - A POEM BY OUR PARISH POET

ESCAPE 

The warm breeze ripples across 

The still, green water of this hidden treasure.  

I sit, idly relaxed, watching another world 

Surviving the realities of an awakening day. 

Birds, butterflies, bees  

Enjoy the bounty and beauty 

Of a Summer garden in all its glory. 

The already hot sun shimmers iridescently 

On the two dragonflies waltzing  

Above the pink and white beflowered lily pads, 

The playground of thirteen newly hatched ducklings, 

Watched by their mother, in perpetual motion, 

Ever aware of the lurking heron and the other predators.  

The sinuous, golden body 

Of a large carp breaks the surface – 

And so departs another innocent victim – 

Enjoying this blissful day. 

How long before the victor becomes the vanquished? 

Begone dull care! 

‘Tis not the time to darkly muse – 

Even if it is the longest day! 

The sky is blue, 

The warm wind whispers through the trees, 

Rose scented air bewitches. 

The sun warms the skin. 

And, soporifically, eyelids droop. 

Retreat! 

Now, from dappled, cooler vantage, 

I watch a world so differently desirable - 

But we can always dream and hope. 

Eileen Murray © 21 June 2026