@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Begorrathon2015 #Clonikilty #WestCork #Ireland #FordMotorCar #FordPub
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Begorrathon2015 #Clonikilty #WestCork #Ireland #FordMotorCar #FordPub
Posted in Begorrathon, COMMUNITY, Ireland | Tagged Begorrathon2015, Clonikilty, FordMotorCar, FordPub, Ireland, WestCork | 4 Comments »
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
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #begorrathon2015 #WBYeats #IrishPoem #SligoStatue
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writers | Tagged IrishPoems, SligoStatue, TheBegorrathon, WBYeats | 2 Comments »
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
#FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #begorrathon2015 #MunsterLiteratureCentre #Co.Cork #IrishPoems #GregO’Donoghue #Epitaph #Begorrathon #IrishMonth #MiddletonWritersGroup
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland | Tagged Begorrathon, Co Cork, Epitaph, FrancesMacaulayForde, GregO'Donoghue, Ireland, IrishPoems, MiddletonWritersGroup, MunsterLiteratureCentre | Leave a Comment »
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 Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland | Tagged FrancesMacaulayForde, Ireland, POEM:FetalNakedAtFifty, poems, romance, SketchingInIreland, TheBegorrathon | 4 Comments »
Posted in Begorrathon, Exploring Possibilities, Ireland, Romance, Writing | Tagged @FrancesMForde, Cork City, Ireland, Wordless Wednesday | 7 Comments »
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 1968 Notebook, Love, Poetry, Writing | Tagged 1968Notebook, aging, family, FrancesMacaulayForde, Loss, POEM:Solmnolent, poetry | 2 Comments »
I mentioned Emma & Ryan’s wedding, the other day… well it’s here and having just finished my outfit in plenty of time, I’m pleased with the result.
It’s always hard finding something for the not-perfect figure, or my age; I don’t want to look 65 when I still think 40, even thought I know I should…
There are some gorgeous things on the net – just my style but they take so long to get here and aren’t reliable.
So my solution to not walking in wearing the same as everyone else – make my own unique piece! I get inspiration from my Pinterest board.
Anyway, time to go and get ready – see my total outfit, put together with hair and war-paint and watch the bride and groom exchange words – but first a little poem about my own true love.
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 dream-time.
Now I love my wrinkles…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
Posted in Writing | 4 Comments »
Final installment – thanks so much Dianne – wonderful coverage!
The best Arts events inspire controversy . But who
would have thought in this age of religious tension, detention and blue ties that a little girl’s toilet break could inspire impassioned letters to the editor? It seems that public urination is a hot topic not just in Paris and Perth but also in Oklahoma . And my parents and husband were close enough to almost feel the splash! They’d perched at a table with a reserved sign amidst people they discovered were from Down South, but the table was actually reserved for Jean-Luc. By the time Karen and I arrived, the controversial moment was over, the asphalt was drying and everyone was enjoying a second drink…
The meeting of The Diver and the Little Girl a few hours later occurred against the impressive backdrop of The Swan River and included Noongar smoke cleansing for purity and cleansing and face painting.
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The Giants continue…
Day Two, Saturday: Mum and Lionel were up early to reclaim their bench. 
Meanwhile the rest of the family went to watch The Diver wake up. While waiting near the overpass we noticed people in the multi-storey carpark. We joined them and had a brilliant view of The Diver’s leap, accompanied by a stirring James Bond soundtrack.
The Diver even peered at us as he passed. 
We gave him a wave, then raced through the crowd trying to get ahead of the parade so we could take up the amazing offer of being in ‘The Bubble’; a taped off area walking through the street just ahead of Diver. What a great opportunity. We took so many photos…

We followed The Diver to the park where he had his afternoon nap. The Lilliputians helped Diver remove his helmet then wheeled out a record player and put on a record to help him…
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Wonderful coverage… congratulations, Dianne!
Watching Royal de Luxe’s Giants walk through Perth was unforgettable especially with the knowledge that Lighthouse Girl provided inspiration for the Little Girl Giant’s story. It’s taken a week to catch my breath and sort through dozens of wonderful Giant photos, many taken by my photographer sister, Karen Davidson. Like many others, I followed the Little Girl Giant and The Diver through the streets of Perth for three days. Here is Day One…
After flying to Perth on Thursday I was met by my parents who’d driven across the Nullarbor from Albury. My sister and daughter also flew in to join the fun. For three days we became Giant Groupies. Our first sighting was Thursday evening when Karen and I saw Jean-Luc and his team making preparations at Langley Park. We stopped for a quick chat.
Friday: Mum and Lionel found the perfect bench outside their hotel. 
Once they were settled…
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