From our resident poet
poems
DOING THE CONTINENTAL
The surprisingly hot, September, afternoon sunshine
Glinted on the sunglasses
Of a man reflectively gazing
At his diminishing glass of lager
As a shaft of sunlight penetrated the amber depths.
Time to call it a day or –
A refill to celebrate – whatever?
Not all of the tables were occupied,
But those that were
Reflected the mood of the patrons.
The exotic, pink cocktail-filled glass
Stood beside the macho pint of draught lager,
Each pleasurably enjoyed
By the owners of the delightful, fluffy, dark brown dog
Who also was catered for
By the strategically placed dish of water!
At a rear table, two teenagers smile
As one produces his age verification card,
At the request of the waiter.
Minutes later, the half-pint of beer is lifted –
A toast for his first officially legal drink,
As he crosses into his new world!
We, abstemiously enjoying very hot, white, flat coffee
(Leopards don’t change their spots –
And sundown still to come)
Recall those far-off days of carefree entry
Into the unknown promises of adulthood.
As if in warning of Life’s transience,
A chilly wind sweeps up from the distant mighty river,
Reminding us of Summer’s demise
And the imminent passing
Of the delightful, continental, café culture.
An empty bus disappears up the tree-lined avenue.
No! Not Madrid, nor Paris, not even Rome.
Just a special café in this leafy suburb,
Our cherished home for nearly sixty years.
Eileen Murray © September 2021
JULY'S POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
PIPE DREAMS
Who can resist the charms
Of a sunlit garden,
Particularly after the boring routine
Of the daily household chores!
Even the struggle with lethal, folding chairs
Fails to diminish the desire
To relax in the delight of unexpected Summer.
All too soon, irrespective of locality,
The sun exercises its might.
I fly on magical wings -
Completely unconnected with airports -
To familiar, faraway destination.
The burning sand speeds the feet
Towards blissful immersion in azure - mirror sea.
We're back celebrating twenty - one years of delight.
The clear, warm water occludes the cloudless sky.
How we've missed you, beautiful Porto!
And all the friends and staff
Who have made the last twenty years so memorable.
Surfacing, I swim towards
The distant, Kolokitha peninsula.
The trauma of the long, weary Covid months
Are washed away.
I smile contentedly.
“What were you dreaming about?”
I open my eyes.
No Cretan Paradise embraces me.
No fear of Greeks bearing gifts,
Just one faithful, ancient warrior
Holding frosted, ice - filled glass of….
An unnamed elixir,
To console for the disappointment
Of the return to normality.
Let's drink to that!
Eileen Murray © June 2121
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
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
Remain unfettered.
Eileen Murray © November 2020
UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN
Life’s many pathways
Cross, diverge, re-cross.
With every meeting
(Short or long)
Must come a parting.
Sorrow may blear
Those golden memories.
Yet, one day,
Parting is no more –
Eternal Re-union.
So much to share,
With those who go before!
Eileen Murray © 2021
A POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
SWEET MEG (FOR SHEILA AND KEN)
How many times have we walked
Along these familiar paths,
Throughout the passing years?
Every day, despite the vagaries
Of each season,
We three have set off resolutely -
Suitably attired, of course!
We met familiars, human and canine,
Exchanging greetings - ours more staid
Than our faithful, four-legged companions.
You were never a one
To frolic joyfully in abandonment
Of the daily restrictions of domesticity.
A mysterious, shadowed early life,
In a different environment,
Had created parameters which influenced you,
Until you settled comfortably
Into our lives.
What rewards were bestowed, bilaterally!
You, with a gourmet appetite,
Us, with healthy exercise and multifarious friendships.
As we adjust to our different lifestyle,
Perhaps, eventually treading familiar footfall,
We will recall and see in distant vistas
A gentle, docile, loving image
Trotting obediently alongside
Two affectionate, committed owners,
Come rain or shine.
Perhaps you were anticipating
All the gustatory pleasures
Awaiting you at home!
Sweet Meg,
Little Lady Blue Roan Cocker Spaniel,
Our memories shall remain evergreen.
Eileen Murray © January 2021
A THANK YOU POEM TO MARK DEACON JOHN'S RETIREMENT
DEAR 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.
Read more: A Thank You Poem to mark Deacon John's retirement
EASTER POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
Christus Vincit
This Easter creeps in,
Alike only in name
From the thousands of joyous occasions
Which have preceded it.
Who would have believed
That this year's preparations,
For "The Jewel in our Crown",
Would bear little resemblance
To our loved, sometimes austere, rituals?
How fortunate our flock has been,
Under the aegis of Our Blessed Lady,
Whose mantle tenderly enfolds
Our perpetually motivated, loving Shepherd!
Despite innumerable, recent traumas,
With dedication, affection and humour,
He has kept our flock
Interested, aware and hopeful,
Along the tortuous path
Which leads to
The Wonder and Glory of the Resurrection.
Eileen Murray © April 2021
POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
An Inspiration
How many times have you clicked
On one of the countless e-mails
(Waiting to be opened)
Entitled - "A Poem"!
For over twenty years,
Messages have been been exchanged,
Cut, pasted, formatted,
Until the compiler, along with the erudite Team,
Was totally satisfied,
And then, all suggestions and drafts
Magically became print.
BE Alive - The Latest Edition!
No matter what hat you were wearing,
You were there working away,
Visible or invisible.
Your commitment and zest
Helped to keep parochial lifeblood flowing.
And even Covid's stranglehold,
On our everyday life,
Was often thwarted.
Today, affectionate, familiars gather
In an appropriate trinity of celebrations -
A Birthday, a Wedding Anniversary,
Under the aegis of your beloved St Alphonsus.
Fairy Tales do happen!
Dear Kris,
Thank you for the unstinting service you have given us
Over the nascent years.
Eileen Murray © 1 August 2022
SEPTEMBER'S POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
Transience
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
A POEM INSPIRED BY CAPTAIN SIR THOMAS MORE RIP
"To Thine Own Self Be True"
Greatness lies not in
Appearance, stature,
Deeds of derring-do.
Neither in flamboyance
Nor self-seeking public acclaim.
Unsurprisingly, it is in traumatic times
When all the world
Seems alien and bent on
Catastrophic destruction -
Which we are powerless to prevent -
That, as if by sleight of hand,
The impenetrable void is pierced
By shaft of incandescent light.
One soon-to-be centenarian,
Against all odds,
Inspires the locked-down, depressed population.
His simple but arduous project,
In gratitude for dedicated medical care,
Moves our communities
To an inconceivable outcome.
We are inspired!
Here in our midst, a miracle unfolds.
The rest is history.
Thank you Dear Captain Sir Tom Moore.
Your simple love and dedication
Will live on in our memories.
Walk on, in Glory!
Eileen Murray © 2 February 2021
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