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@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #PoetryPostcards  #Postcards  #Poems  #Cinquains  #ExploringPossibilities  #HiddenCapacity

 

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Thought I’d remind all the Perth-ites… it’s “Tulip Time” again.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #AraluenTulips  #TulipTime  #PoetryPostcards

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ISRADELLA

 

Isradella waits

for ghosts of lovers past

to homogenize

 

Perfect recipes of want

ingredients elusive

beg materialize

 

Abundant beauty falls

shorter than ideal

too rarefied

 

Hope ever lives in one

who strives for vision

so eulogized

 

Reality proves tepid

in life-dreams eye

and Isradella cries

 

Disbelieve the sellers

unattainable perfection

and real-eyes

 

Love no longer exists

the world’s forgotten

to individualize

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000

Poem No 19 ‘Return of Rainbows’ in ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ pub Cork, Ireland, 2003.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #BOOK:ReturnOfRainbows  #POEM:Isradella  #LovePoems  #Poetry

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Exile

 

Colour my life with rainbow hues

happiness yellow,

warm pinks,

cool, distant blues

and the green of Ireland.

 

I miss you in my life.

 

I want to touch your skin.

I want to make you  smile

make your eyes twinkle

with lust – amusement

at my clever words

 

and electronic kisses…

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002

(Poem No 30 in ‘Exploring Possibilities…’ section of ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’, by Frances Macaulay Forde, 1st published in Cork, Ireland, 2003.)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #POEM:Exile   #ExploringPossibilities  #WrittenInIreland  #LovePoems  #Romance

 

 

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When I met 90 year old Tom, he was a West Australian Living Treasure and an absolute gentleman.

Also the winner of the Patrick White Award in 1992, Tom was appointed a Member of the Order of Australia (AM) in 1988 for services to literature, the author of many novels, including The Ridge and The River, Sowers of the Wind, Swagbelly, Birdsnatcher and The Prince of Siam.

He’d been writing for 60 years and celebrated his 90th birthday with a collection of stories & poems which illustrated his life.

At the official launch, I sat in selfish wonder listening to the magnificent voice of Jack Thompson booming, blasting passion into the masterly poetry and prose of T.A.G. Hungerford’s new book.

Taken from the back cover of  What’s Happened to Joseph?:  “With dazzling ease he moves from prose to poetry, from the ancient past to the present, from the small, absorbing passions of suburbia to the grim demands of jungle warfare. Hungerford makes us wonder just what did happen to Joseph, farther of Jesus Christ- did he continue to work in his carpenters trade, perhaps in Jerusalem – then takes us to the heart of Anzac Day, to the shimmering colours of outback Australia, or to his own front garden, and with every word he illuminates our own experience.”  

I loved every word of his book and want everyone to enjoy his insight, his sensitivity and his ability to place me right there, where he was when writing them.

‘ANZAC Day’ is a poem I believe would work well on screen; the opening lines; dense, establishing and heartfelt:

“This spot at the corner of Pier Street and the Terrace

between two churches – Presbyterian one side,

C. of E. on the other – is just made to order

for us Second Eighth blokes to form up for the March

this mild April morning.  Wild men we were, all of us.”

When Tom allowed me to host ‘An Afternoon With Tom’ during a very special Poet’s Corner event, devoted entirely to him, the place was packed with lovers of words wanting to hear him read and provide further insight to his writing.

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T.A.G. Hungerford graciously allowed me to interview him for BOOKS Australia during Poets Corner. FMF © 2006

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Kevin Gillam playing ‘Fascination’ for “An Afternoon with Tom” at Pages Cafe during Poets Corner. FMF © 2006

The last poem in his book; ‘Fascination Waltz’ is another favorite and made me cry.  That’s why I asked Kevin Gillam, a fellow poet, admirer of Tom and professional cellist to play ‘Fascination’.  I felt the love and saw a tear in Tom’s eye, too.

Although he’s gone now I still think of him and his words, often. I treasure the firstly hand-written, then typed letters we exchanged and an (as far as I know) unpublished poem “Grey Ghost”, which would also make a fantastic film.

I want to pay a larger tribute and help make his writings available to more by getting them up on the big screen. Any producers out there, interested?

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #TAGHungerford  #What’sHappenedToJoseph? #JackThompson  #Stories&Poems   #Poetry  #KevinGillam  #PoetsCorner  #PagesCafe

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Co.Cork.  Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

 

The Folly    

Gaeltacht – Irish-speaking area.

Teanga – living language, tongue.

 

My Gaeltacht friend explained  ‘Ye should go t’ see the folly…’

So, like tourists, my man and I actually took a clear-day,

no rain so far drive. A determined scenic dalliance

in sunny  sections flashing green and historical grey.

 

Eventually – with no clear direction, journeying

quite far out of our way…  we appreciated the Anglo

interpretation on the road signs, because as foreigners,

we don’t speak the traditional language of Ireland.

 

Not wanting to barstardise or pronounce phonetically

in error, ‘so’.  We enjoyed the lilt and musicality of her

tumbled, seemingly conscientious explanation – story-

telling at a 100 miles an hour.  ‘Ah well  ye know, ta

 

get t’da place dat ‘tis, you just go along dis

road, don’t ye know, ‘tis a sort of a wind-y road, den

up t’ hill, don’t ye know and dere’ll be a turn off t’

da right – de left would it be, no, ‘tis definitely

 

da right…  but don’t you be going dat way, d’ye know

‘cos dat’ll get ye into all sorts a troubles, sure

t’ will and all…’  Pictograms pointing to a past not

forgotten although many have tried to suppress their

 

uniqueness… The soft emphasis or not.  A language

echoed through 400 years… the charming emotional

push of Ireland.  ‘So’, we go on death-defying strips

of beaten earth, slicing through fields, carelessly carving

 

up gently rising hills dotted with dwellings, puffing

grey smoke evidencing crisp cold air, we journeyed

on by-ways bordered by stones. Intrusion bands – neatly

trimmed piles of manual labour carefully selected and placed

 

one on top of the measured other… in spite of  wars and cars,

surviving like the teanga, rebelliously, resolutely, knowingly

employed at home in private, upright and proud though sagging

in some areas, often bent by forces who moved on and forgot.

 

Those walls still exist in places – repaired now, to allow

journey. Showing a path around a sparkling gem waiting…

We chanced intrusion of some one’s private personal space,

a rutted homely driveway – questions of culture, seeking

 

an un-shy, proud demonstration of Celtic heritage. We

wanted a clearer vision of soulful insistence – difference.

A sculptural acknowledgment, including the heroic past,

clear evidence of resistance – of residence.  The Folly!

 

 Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:TheFolly  #SketchingInIreland  #Poems   #Co.Cork  #Ireland

 

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@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:BeachBabe  #Poetry  #Postcards  #Love

#Romance

 

 

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All Washed Up

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Cling to the plate rack of pine

Empty and turned to the tiles

Waiting for a water ball

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

No purpose for us to observe

Sadly exhibiting usage both

Hear the dishwasher call

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Colours faded and fingers worn

One springs a hole in the thumb

Its partner hears the bin fall

 

One rubber glove hangs discarded

Pale and lonely for its pigeon pair

Lost in the drain of life’s chaos

Single; no purpose at all

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:AllWashedUp  #Humorous  #Poems  #Ageism

 

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“Red Umbrella Series” by Jessica McCallum from ‘Raincheck’ Exhibition 2010

 

Ripples merge you and I

into a private existence

mirroring each other;

different shades of blues,

silver rings of protection,

white dots of hope,

green patches of communication,

blue background of love.

 

Until someone else

jumps in with both feet,

splashing and spreading confusion,

drenching our safeness 

with questions, green jealousy 

and blue moon moods,

holding a red umbrella.

 

After a while calm silver

reflects our feelings,

reminding us what we had

in our perfect puddle,

holding a mirror to our faces

before rubber boots intruded.

 

Until we realized what we had

before…

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2010

 

Raincheck an exhibition in case of showers…  2010 

Artworks by Mixed Media Artist, Jessica McCallum

Held Aug 23 – Sept 10, 2010 at Subiaco Arts Centre Gallery, Perth, WA.

(Poetry postcards from exhibitions available from JESSICA McCALLUM)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #ArtAsTheSpark  #Raincheck  #ARTIST:JessicaMcCallum  #Poetry  #RedUmbrella

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St Mary’s Road, Midleton, Cork. 2003

Vaccuming

 

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

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