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Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

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I learnt an embarrassing lesson yesterday; don’t rush!

I hit the ‘publish’ button like I would the ‘enter’ button – big mistake!  Unconcerned, I thought I’d just correct and ‘Update’ which, of course, I did in seconds.

Embarrassingly the preview of the blog post (goes everywhere!) stayed as the original un-edited version although when ‘read more’ was clicked, the corrected version appeared!

Lesson well and truly learnt!  Writing and posting when you’re tired or in a rush – just don’t do it!  I do sincerely apologize.

Hopefully I can make amends with a poem written before love returned to my life.

 

DOORS CLOSING

How often has the door closed on opportunity for me?

And how many times have I shut it?

 

‘Well, open it again.’ You say.  Not so easy

when it is wedged with prejudice.

 

Locked with lies about your femininity

and jammed with judicial errors.

 

I am an opportunist and I do believe

as one door closes, another… you know.

 

But sometimes, for my sanity, I take

the easy way out.  My heart’s the same.

 

I’m not brave in letting that door stand ajar.

The solid barrier protecting my comfort zone.

 

A jack-hammer wouldn’t be heard now!

I’m deaf to desire and numb to need.

 

The woolen blanket around my feelings keeps me warm.

I lock the door, pocket the key, work and love in secret.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #Poem  #LovePoem  #Poetry  #Romance  #ComfortZone  #Desire  #DoorsClosing  #Lessons

 

 

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Before we met,

my heart was young,

it showed its reactions

to everyone.

 

Worn on my sleeve,

it was easy to know,

easy to see feelings

come and go.

 

But since we’ve met,

my heart’s a closed door,

no-one knows the hurt

or happiness anymore.

 

Not even you – and you

hold the key but what

is the good when

you don’t love me?

Frances Macaulay Forde @ 1965

#francesmacaulayforde  #1968notebook  #lovepoems  #love  #poems  #poetry  #romance  #follow  #instagram  #twitter

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Ann Hatheways Cottage, Stratford. 2002

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #AnnHatheway  #WillShakespeare  #Stratford  #WordlessWednesday  #Playwrite  #Theatre  #StratfordUponAvon  #ThatchedCottage

 

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Invention

 

I don’t need a Bell Curve

showing the Probability of Distribution

nor an economist theorizing

about the Positive Externalities

 

this is no pie in the sky nor castle in the air

although this is a novelty for me

an invention of a future

love is a collaborative result

a breakthrough in this human’s knowledge

an altruistic patent knowing I can love again

 

because necessity is the mother of invention

and we invented you and I

put into practice love after fifty

 

according to the five Laws of Limitations

(Diffusion of Innovations)

Knowledge

~ you found me on the net after thirty years

Persuasion

~ you in Ireland me in Oz and Messenger

Decision

~ both agreeing to Explore the Possibilities

Implementation   

~ your plane landing at Perth Airport and that hug

and Confirmation

~ yachts and vows on Hillarys Boat Harbour

W082MarriedWalk

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #LoveOnTheBeach  #BellCurve  #Invention  #LoveAfter50  #LawsOfLimitations  #Knowledge  #Persuasion  #Decision  #Implementation  #Confirmation  #Yaghts  #HillarysBoatHarbour  #PerthAirport  #Ireland  #Australia  #Messenger  #PieInTheSky  #CastleInTheAir

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I started doing poetry postcards when I ran Poets Corner @ Pages Cafe as a giveaway on each table.  I figured if people were kind enough to sit and listen, they deserved a keepsake.

I’m still in the habit and find them useful as giveaways at readings and book events.   I get them printed – often for free, when VISTA PRINT  do ‘specials’.

This one has the first (the very first) oil painting I ever did, on it.  My dad gave me a set of oils for my 12th birthday and a small tester board.

I haven’t done more than a handful since but this first attempt at oils, was always my favorite.

The poem was written for my returned love; every time he turns to carry on with his everyday… I miss him this much.

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde   #PoetsCorner@PagesCafe  #POEM:INeedYou  #ExploringPossibilities

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Eclectic Encore for Grace Knight!  

(Valentine’s Day, Western Australia, 2006)

It was hot – bloody hot for Valentine’s Day.  The kind of heat that oppresses, suggests multiple showers and hard-working deodorants.  Not how one wishes to appear on the day most touted for romance, especially when treated to a restaurant dinner with a Grace Knight concert to follow.

One wants to be cool, elegant, calm of face and dry of appearance ~ didn’t happen.  That would be sexy and romantic ~ the heat should come later… There was plenty of the other stuff ~ gorgeous food, wine, loads of women dressed for the occasion…

Sitting on the Joondalup Hotel restaurant terrace would normally have been the optimum place for our table. But not when there isn’t a breath of fresh air – just dampness descending.  Gazing over the cutlery into pools of passion and longing, we’d occasionally steal a wanton glance at the circular, ice-cool pool frequented by ducks. But in the still, hot night, trips into the air-conditioning for buffet treats, delicious sweets and succulent seafood helped make room for the next scrumptious plateful.

Although sexiness in female apparel sometimes means tight, it also means more skin exposed to the non-existent breeze and men wearing long pants, even though they’d rather be in Stubbies with a cold midi in hand, not drinking champagne or wine instead.

Our guided trek across green valleys past ancient, many branched grass trees ~ a magnificent statement of origin, helped digestion before spreading our blankets, in a patrons area, close to the stage and next to the lake, to receive a traditional Noongar welcome.

The flocks of ducks rising from the still water disturbed by the ‘five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-six’ others (some parked as far away as the shopping center), circling and settling back down to become part of the enchanting landscape again.

We were seduced by a medley of Show Tunes; then Mantovani, Rogers and Hart and more, performed by stars of the Youth Jazz Orchestra, fresh from their recent New York sojourn.

The Police spotter plane circled in the freeway distance but Gracie held her hair out of her face, away from the strong fans cooling from both sides of her performance space, to electrify us ~ her real fans ~ with so many favorite songs of luuurve.

As a big cheesy moon rose among the trees we thanked the sponsors, the resort and our fabulous community up here on the Sunset Coast for an unforgettable Valentine venue, promising to make a date for next year too.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #ValentinesDay  #GraceKnight  #JoondalupResort

 

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Book 2 in my Short Stories series is “E-Males”   Meet ‘Anna Karenina’ of the Australian suburbs:

After seven years of marriage, Michelle began to question her love ~ not her husband Barry’s ~ his adoration was as solid and steady as a rock.  No, she questioned her state. 

Was this all she could expect?  She yearned for more  ~ or perhaps a different ethereal mist of feeling which engulfs like a warm blanket of bright colours, flapping every now and then in the breeze of life. 

“Damn those blasted fairy tales! Where’s my prince?  Why doesn’t Barry come home in the middle of the day and whisk me off to Paris for coffee?” 

She day-dreams he’s sitting in his high rise office, gazing out across the Swan River, thinking of her in a flowing white peignoir, hair carefully styled, just risen from their marriage bed to meet her love. 

Full lips ready to receive his kiss, his embrace strong but gentle he smiles down at her, with one arm to support her swooning, body trembling with unspoken ardor. 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014

If you’d care to read the rest, you’re welcome to buy or lend a KINDLE copy of  “E-Males”  or Book 1:  “Meeting Mr X”  directly from Amazon.

(Hope you do…)

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #McAlpineBellPublishing  #MeetingMrX  #KINDLEbooks  #E-Males”

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Book 1 in my Short Stories series is “Meeting Mr X”  ‘Middlemarch’ re-imagined as an Australian Suburban story…

Ms Brown certainly lived up to her name in an unremarkable brown brick, unappealing brown-roofed house, amongst similar unprepossessing dwellings, surrounded by shrubbery rooted in brown mulch, found in a commonly named street that looked like many suburban others, indistinguishable from her neighbors. 

Consequently, she lived a quiet life not wishing to stand out like the man she observed from her back patio whom she had named Mr. X.

Because her land sloped down the hill from the back, she often watched those in other similarly quiet, ordered avenues nearby.  Mr X lived across the street behind her block, down the hill – the front of his house facing her backyard. 

Music blared, lights blazed and many people visited making Ms Brown wonder if he was one of those drug dealers or even a manufacturer, referred to in the local papers.  

She repeatedly heard doors banging, the screech of tyres on tarmac or horns blasted in farewell.   These inconsiderate ruffians frequently left the house which Mr. X occupied at all hours of the day and night, disturbing those who may be sleeping or, like herself, wishing for quietude.  

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014

If you’d care to read the rest, you’re welcome to lend or buy a KINDLE copy of  “Meeting Mr X.”  directly from Amazon.

(Hope you do…)

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #McAlpineBellPublishing  #MeetingMrX  #KINDLEbooks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’ll admit it – I’m hooked on KINDLE at the moment.  It is so easy to put writing you’ve wanted to share for years, up in a KINDLE book and let the world judge it.

I’ve signed up for the Lending Library as well, so people can just borrow the book for a short time, read it and hopefully purchase their own copy – or not.

I still get a fee… so if you feel like reading some short poems about falling in love at my age, I’ve just uploaded another chapbook called appropriately ‘Love’.

I’m also working on “The Return of Rainbows” poems written while a mature-age student at University and some short stories which I hope someone will enjoy.

When I’ve put those two new books up on KINDLE, I am going to attempt converting my children’s book “Santa’s Swim” on there too, so watch this space.

Meantime, buy or lend my latest KINDLE  “Love” or “Rail Tales” but remember I have a few printed copies left, which you can purchase directly from me.

Before you…

… I slept in a bed

without creases

only pulled up

the sheet to straighten

smooth – no effort at all

ready for the next dreamtime

now I love my wrinkles…

ReUnion

stepping softly

you trod the path

to my front door

never rang the bell

played favourite songs

over and over until

senses on overload

surrounded by romance

you kissed me quick

heart pumped electric

singing over barriers

erected years ago

against pain and hurt

welcomed as veins

formed highways

joined the chorus

zinging with heat

barely contained

thrumming melody

words all ready

rhymed with roses

thorns ignored

fresh and bloody

us young again

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

#francesmacaulayforde #mcalpinebellpublishing #RailTalesBOOK  #LoveBOOK

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I love how sometimes a poem ends up taking you to all sorts of places you don’t expect.

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‘Dance’ by Jessica McCallum at His Majesty’s Theatre, 2009. #jessicamcallumartist

My poem “My Life as a Sari” has appeared alongside beautiful artworks.

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POETRY POSTCARD available from Jessica McCallum

An excerpt published on a postcard.

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#IndigoJournal

And published in the INDIGO JOURNAL of West Australian Writing, Vol 3 published by INDIGO books and received lovely comments.

Fremantle Press have recently become on-line partners with the original publishers of the journals and have always been tremendous supporters of those who write in Western Australia, quietly promoting and encouraging new, emerging and established writers by putting their money where their mouth is.

As a result of my inclusion in the journal, Fremantle Press also interviewed  me about my writing and particularly, this poem.

 

My Life as a Sari

 

Securely tuck your fears under elastic

at the centre of your waist with your left hand,

and with your right, hold the remaining

metres of spun silk – your future, facing inside.

 

Measure the drop of the fall

and it’s finely stitched edge

for correct positioning against heels.

 

Wrap yourself in the gossamer fold,

swirling the diaphanous film behind

but stay level and wedge the top border

into your petticoat.

 

Like a bride preparing herself,

you are now ready to pleat.

 

At a distance from the last fixing,

hand-measure the delicate veil,

embroidered with details

important to who you are

toward the middle of your body.

 

Some may need five pleats, some six.

Less is more. Another judgement held on show

– a statement of size, however graciously it moves.

 

Securely fix the perfumed fanning

and grasp what is left, bring it back around

to wrap warmly and return to the front.

 

These days, you can choose to gather all loose

ends onto your left shoulder, secured with a jewel.

But many prefer to throw the remainder

over, remembering to hold an arm half bent,

letting the end float freely – the beaded

edge skimming the inside of your wrist.

 

 Frances Macaulay Forde © 2009

#francesmacaulayforde

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