A charming telling of how we never forget those, who’ve influenced our lives.
This review is unashamedly written by a dedicated fan but nontheless, a very worthy review. I’m looking forward to seeing this movie!
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Reel-Life Productions in Zimbabwe are making a documentary about the ‘war’ on Rhino poachers:
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #ReelLifeProd #RangerDanger #ConserveAfrica #ProtectRhino #WarOnPoachers
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Harry Owen on FaceBook today: “If I can do this, anyone can! Please join in and help raise awareness for the rhino today. Thank you!”
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde @StopKillingRhino #HarryOwen #Africa #Nature #Rhino #Elephant
Posted in Africa, Animals, Books, COMMUNITY, Favorite Writers, nature, Poetry, Writing | Tagged Africa, Harry Owen, STOP Killing Rhino | 1 Comment »
I can’t believe this – Gillian looks younger than she did in the X-files! She was absolutely amazing in the recent Irish TV Series ‘The Fall’.
Scully and Mulder together again
The Truth is Out There about David Duchovny’s singing voice: he really isn’t very good. I am not sure if it even qualifies as singing. It’s more a sort of mumbled warbling, and he obviously brings the same level of energy to it as he does to his acting. Let’s be polite and call it understated. (No doubt it will be lodged in the same cultural memory box as Bruce Willis’ The Return of Bruno.) Still, though, that didn’t stop people from turning out in droves to hear him launch his debut album, Hell or Highwater at The Cutting Room in New York.
Dressed all in black just like a rock star – or a man in mid-life crisis who thinks that being a rock star would be kind of cool – Duchovny hugged the microphone and brought his signature intensity…
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Here’s a new view of my gorgeous city. Although, nowadays, I must admit I don’t go into ‘town’ vey often… preferring the suburbs.
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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
Posted in COMMUNITY, Ireland, nature, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland | Tagged Co Cork, Ireland, POEM:TheFolly, Poems Written In Ireland, SketchingInIreland | 1 Comment »

Photo Source here.
Marisa Wikramanayake : “I’m a journalist, a writer and an editor. Well, actually, I write novels and attempt to survive doing so by having adventures and being a journalist and an editor.”
Take a look at her website where, among many interesting postings, most recently she has started doing videologs in support of Australian Women Writers. I’ve just watched Robin Bowers’ interview.
This poem was posted on Facebook today and I loved it. (Naturally, I asked permission to post it here.)
Were you to break me down into my constituent parts,
Bit by bit,
Build me back up again with IKEA instructions but perfectly,
(I will give you an Allen key),
With each Lego piece in its spot,
Bit by bit,
There would be no place for love.
Oh, there would be a tinkertoy space here, some engine that whirled around,
That makes me good at all the grand gestures,
That would let me let you go if you were happier without me,
Without me blinking,
Because you are made of flesh and nerve endings that will hurt,
But I am made of blocks that can be broken down and rebuilt,
Bit by bit.
So I can withstand it.
But there is the space you would find surrounded by the Fabuland set,
That would be that space that doesn’t quite work,
Perhaps they discontinued that line a long time ago,
Bit by bit,
But it’s the space that makes me wake you,
At three am because I want to talk,
Makes me since I am a brick,
Quite selfish and quite thick,
No good at the small important everyday love,
Ever feeling that my part in any duo would not be enough,
It’s the space that will make me leave you behind,
While I chase things that intrigue my mind,
Where I will stand wondering why I am not the one to be in your part when I know how a gendered romance should go,
That openly states when and how I feel,
Because no one who hears believes it’s real.
It’s the space in me that makes me stubborn,
Want to break down your walls and lay you open.
Bit by bit,
To dissect you, pull you apart so I know how you work,
So I can love you the way you deserve.
And you deserve different, flesh and blood with nerve endings and all,
Not something, half real, built of bricks prone to break apart and fall.
I have built myself up to work like a machine.
Over the years,
Bit by bit,
For maternal, fraternal love,
For grand gestures because I can’t protect you enough,
But not at all adequately for the small love on which you’re keen.
– Marisa Wikramanayake, (c) 2015
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #MarisaWikramanayake #GuestPoem #WAWriters #Community #FavWriters #Love #Poetry #RobinBowers
Posted in COMMUNITY, Favorite Writers, Guest Poem, Love, Poetry, WA Writers | Tagged Community, Favourite Writers, Guest Poem, Love, Marisa Wikramanayake, poetry, WA Writers | Leave a Comment »









