Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, Ireland, poetry, TheMagicRoundabout on March 31, 2015| Leave a Comment »
“The Magic Roundabout”
Rush Hour Waltz
Blackbirds wheel
In evening skies
above Kindale’s
signalized
roundabout,
mimicking
warmed metal
motors idling
in similar circles
below.
Are they
as confused
about how
to get home
as we are?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Beggorathon2015 #Ireland #TheMagicRoundabout
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, Ireland, poems, WarPoems on March 30, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Baghdad Ballet
(March, 2003)
A young boy sits, on his mother’s shoulders,
smile-excited in the sunshine, taking part in a parade.
He proudly thrusts the finger-sign of peace.
Nice to see in an Iraqi child – family
bombardered by ‘Shock and Awe’ the night before,
forgiving.
But the visual is blitzed as it flashes onscreen,
by the plastic Sten gun held aloft,
background-brandished in the child’s other hand.
Do you think the young lad plays
in secret tunnels, knows where to hide,
where doubles walk to keep the myth alive,
the magic tricks to keep awake illusions
of a still-controlled-city.
Streetlights burn in defiance of invaders largesse.
Traffic moves through the night
while bright glows explode in distant thunder
and shower shrapnel as
we sit on green comfy sofas,
presumed warm and safe inside,
miles away watching the performance
on TV young Liam wears red and white,
holds his defiant hurly high – a warrior
enjoying the sunshine day parade
– a protest for peace in Shannon.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
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Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Love, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged IrishPoems, Love, PoemsWrittenInIreland, romance, SketchingInIreland on March 29, 2015| Leave a Comment »
St Mary’s Road, Midleton, Cork. 2003
With every pull toward your body
you expect obedience.
Expect each tiny micron of dirt
to be sucked up and away.
Look at the attention you give stairs…
How do I become like stairs?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Beggorthon:2015 #SketchingInIreland #IrishPoems #PoemsWrittenInIreland #LovePoems #Romance
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, IrishPoems, SketchingInIreland on March 27, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Clare road repairs
On a hill, Celtic crosses and angels wings
gather. We approve the view, weed and go.
Suddenly, unattended in a quiet Irish lane,
Temporary traffic lights blink red.
Surrounded by green fields, we’re forced
to queue like country others, and reflect.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
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Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writers, tagged IrishPoems, SligoStatue, TheBegorrathon, WBYeats on March 10, 2015| 2 Comments »
Sligo, Ireland 2003.
Red Lipstick.
Standing in reverence of a mighty giant
his Nobel words remembered, this fan notes
exaggerated bat-like shoulders enhance his
thoughtful gaze – watching the Horseman?
Others have stepped up on Galway stone; held
those long, thin legs as they balance head bent
to leave a lipstick imprint of their awe for him
on the space his left hand nonchalantly indicates…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2015
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Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Begorrathon, Co Cork, Epitaph, FrancesMacaulayForde, GregO'Donoghue, Ireland, IrishPoems, MiddletonWritersGroup, MunsterLiteratureCentre on March 9, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Forde’s Pub, Cork, Ireland, 2003.
Whilst my man wooed me, I joined the original Middleton Writers group (now defunct) who welcomed me with open arms.
Also joined Munster Literature Centre and never missed a Wednesday workshop hosted by Cork/Irish literati.
The appropriately (for me) named Forde Pub, was our usual lunch break venue.
Epitaph for Gregory O’Donoghue
Seasoned, some will remember boozy lunches,
Tuna sandwiches peppered with slurred words
plated on sliced lettuce arranged ‘just so’…
Guinness frothed and creamy with subtext.
An Irish summer warm with purpose shared
eloquently with a visiting Australian at exclusive
Wednesday morning workshops obstinately
overseen each week, by a recalcitrant at MLC.
Since his silence, reverence is a poetry prize
keeping his name associated with his life love.
His canon forever in the library and his portrait,
eyeing the new wave with his silent critiques.
This writer will remember clever poetic reviews,
evaluating layers of old knowledge like a river
flowing effortlessly from the master to his student
and inspiration needing a break, at Forde’s Pub.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2013
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Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, tagged FrancesMacaulayForde, Ireland, POEM:FetalNakedAtFifty, poems, romance, SketchingInIreland, TheBegorrathon on March 5, 2015| 4 Comments »
Roadside E30, Co.Cork, Ireland.
Fetal naked at fifty.
I’ve followed signs to Yield in Ireland
when I’m used to an Aussie Give Way.
I put on red lipstick, tell you stories
of Africa when we were both young
and watch my words seduce you again.
You remember young Chianti;
full and round, ruby red, peppered
with berries. I remember
a Hotel in Kitwe – Blue Nun.
You say your taste has matured,
you now prefer an Aussie Shiraz;
sharp, punchy, still youthful
– allowed to ripen with time.
I imprint your palate with my being
so no other will satisfy – am absolutely
involved in strong pulsing waves.
You suddenly stop
and fold my legs over
so I lay fetal naked at fifty…
you lean forward to whisper
my tongue is sweet.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #TheBegorrathon #POEM:FetalNakedAtFifty #Ireland #poetry #romance #SketchingInIreland
Posted in 1968 Notebook, Love, Poetry, Writing, tagged 1968Notebook, aging, family, FrancesMacaulayForde, Loss, POEM:Solmnolent, poetry on March 2, 2015| 2 Comments »
Mum 1960’s
My sister-in-law has inspired me by following the theme of ‘Ageing’ today.
Like her, I love old photos and treasure the few I have of my parents and family.
So I’m sharing this one of my mum with our dog “Quenten Quinebell Quickstep III” taken in Northern Rhodesia in the 60’s – who I naturally, miss every day I’ve been without her.
If I could, I’d plant a kiss on her soft cheek and tell her I love her again; then I’d call her great-grand children, who’d come running in to say ‘Hi Nanna’ with their infectious excitement, just like they do with me.
I know she’d love her sweet daughter-in-law Saowanee and be so proud of her tall, handsome grandson James and his gorgeous family.
She’d immediately see both of us in my beautiful daughter Jess and love to hear all about her artistry and dreams now she’s old enough to chat.
Somnolent
Last night I was with you, sitting on the settee.
You were reading with your glasses on, drinking tea.
Dad had grown tired of the TV play and was asleep,
snoring loudly with a cushion tucked under his feet.
The scene was so dear and clear as I’ve seen,
But this morning, I work up, so it was a dream…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 1968
@FrancesMF4orde #FrancesMacForde #1968Notebook #POEM:Somnolent #poetry #family #loss #aging
Posted in Exploring Possibilities, Love, Poetry, Poetry Postcards, tagged FrancesMacaulayForde, Love, POEM:StraightUp, poems, PoetryPostcards on February 26, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Books, KINDLE Books, Poetry, Short Stories, Writing, tagged E-BOOK:E-males, E-BOOK:LoveYouMum, E-BOOK:MeetingMrX, E-BOOK:Overtime, E-Books, FrancesMacaulayForde on February 19, 2015| 2 Comments »
Just to let everyone know, I’m busy taking my e-books off Kindle but leaving a couple of print versions of poetry books available on Amazon.
Soon after they were published on Amazon/Kindle, I found the mss available for free download (elsewhere) on the net. I reported it to Amazon who said they had been copied illegally… (?) Not happy, Jan!
I want to try another publishing vehicle to see what their service is like and will let you know as soon as I have set it up.
#FrancesMForde #E-BOOK:E-males #E-BOOK:MeetingMrX #E-BOOK:LoveYouMum #E-BOOK:Overtime
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