Perth Words… exploring possibilities.

During nine months of my man in Ireland trying to convince me through Messenger, he should jump on a plane to Oz and we should explore the possibility of rekindling our love of 28 years ago; my heart and my head were at war.  The risks seemed too great considering all I had been through.  After a bitter divorce, my two wonderful children were now adults, I was making a new life and I had only just learnt to like myself again!  (From chapbook 'Exploring Possibilities'.)

Suits and ties…

Your Corporate wardrobe titillates.
Challenges me to abandon -
invite you to swim with me –
in a sea wet with desire.
Throw off your hard shell,
your calm, controlled exterior 
and reveal the let-go you.

The knot of your tie,
like seaweed trapping 
the unaware swimmer, 
restricting your neck - 
choking.  Stopping words 
that reveal your heart.

Speech splinters jab at me
- stabbing me with purpose
pricking my memory of
a shipwrecked love…
laid low in my sub-marine.

I want you to loosen your tie
with purpose, invite intimacy, 
soul revelations, as you
breast-stroke in deep water -
prove the want - the known need 
to be swamped by passion.

The three-piece suit necessary
clothing - layers hiding…
Providing warmth, weighing
where sun shafts can’t penetrate
or offer paths of lighted guidance.

Relinquish your quintessence! 

Allow this sensual drowning - 
while arms cleave in swells 
of touch, taste and heat -
liquid languishing laid naked 
to my reciprocal need.

Dismiss the discipline 
of habitual analysis? 
Take off those polished shoes -
shake off the weight and surrender 
to feelings incomprehensible 
to the clever business brain.
Allow unknown, unrehearsed,
unrestrained actions - 
releases of reason, to win.

I watch you purposely dive 
our murky, bottomless depths. 
Hands locked together, arms 
pointed straight above your head
protecting - patiently proving 
your commitment, your leap
with one compulsive breath 
into our eventual eternity.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
1st published in Poets Corner anthology 'Pages Cafe '05' by Frances Macaulay Forde in 2005.

#POEM:Suits&Ties  #ExploringPossibilities #SketchingInIreland #LoveStory #PoemsAboutLove #RediscoveringLove #Reunited #Romance #Poetry 

When my man made contact after 28 years he was in Ireland and I was in Australia but we'd been in love in Africa in 1974.  He saw my name on the net and sent a Valentine's Day message. Through Messenger, it took him nine months to convince me to allow him to fly over and explore the possibility of love again.

Messenger…

Banter that backfired because
literal interpretations got lost
in considered connotations,
(re-read a thousand times)
of what went way-back-when…

Juxtaposition of judgements.
Hastily harnessed how-comes?
Stopping me still, seriously!
Making me question us both.

My passionate banshee tears
initiated by tactile responses
to words type-tapped carefully.
Sometimes in casual jest 
to test my reactions?

Is it natural to anticipate
disaster - dismissal and defend?
Not normally for me – I search
for more of your positive essence,
confirmation of my impressions.

I want you – all of you – now!
Every nuance of normality
shared secretly, sensually…
But other stuff too – thoughts,
reasons, why you do what you do…

I can’t ‘see’ the whole of you
touch your skin - breath you in.
Sense your hands on my breasts
holding me, stroking me softly.
I want – I need – I crave to.

Insecurity inserts itself
firmly forcing doubt-feelings
to well and grow without witness,
until you answer; you calm; you claim,

cover my heart and soul with caring.
Linger in my love, lay there 
until we’re both sweetly exhausted
by this power, this perpetual passion 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002
(From chapbook "Exploring Possibilities" 2003.)

#POEM: Messenger  #ExploringPossibilities #SketchingInIreland  #LoveStory #PoemsAboutLove #RediscoveringLove #Reunited #Romance #Poetry 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m0019n5y/the-mule Based on a true story (kinda, but not really). An article in The New York Times reported that Earl Stone, aged 90, had been convicted for transporting drugs for a Mexican cartel. If Earl Stone had been aged 30 or 40, or even 50, there’d be no story. The story is in his age. […]

The Mule, BBC 1, BBC iPlayer, Writer Nick Schenk, Director Clint Eastwood. — odonnellgrunting

In 2002, the man I loved 28 years before in Africa, found my name on the net. After running away to Oz, two beautiful children, a bitter divorce and 17 years on my own, he sent a Valentine's greeting. I knew I was in trouble...   (From my chapbook "Exploring Possibilities...")

My Knight

in the afternoon of my life
settled
content and comfortable 
in my aloneness 

you question me!

you destroy 
my strong defences 
obliterate 
my sense and reason 
to let you in

for my heart 
bow wave of confusion 
tense terror times 
of doubt and fear 

unknown
risk everything 
my ordered now 
the colours of my life 
changing to a
different hue

you terrify me 
wanting - needing 
arms that enclose 
a broken heart 

make it whole again!

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

#POEM:MyKnight  #ExploringPossibilities  #SketchingInIreland  #LoveStory #PoemsAboutLove #RediscoveringLove #Reunited #Romance #Poetry 

Artwork:  Frances Macaulay Forde © 2022

Milk-Money Door					
	
bright daffodil day 
embarrassed matures
redundancy stamped 
stand Dole-Queue silent 
in the happy sunshine

teleworkers gathering
gaze in compensation 

young things pout
into hidden mobiles 
hand held to ear   
stomach-bared
vogue on one leg
 
doesn’t open till ten 
on no-job-yet Tuesday

pushy prams queue 
harassed singles 
loose children ram
legs poised on steps 
to milk-money door

this doesn’t seem 
to be a happy event

there’s fetid foam
squashing through 
smashed windows
rusted frames rot
ugliness everywhere

still… it’s the most 
popular place in town.


Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

#POEM:MilkMoneyDoor #ArtIsTheSpark #FMFArtwork #MyIrishPoems #WrittenInIreland #ExploringPossibilities #SketchingInIreland #Poetry #DoleQueue

The Politics of Doors With every doorway, decisions. Accept, deny. Turn. How to resist the ajar, the barely closed? Is what emerges expelled or escaped, free or released? Resistant as always, I swivel, pause to inhale.

The Politics of Doors — O at the Edges

I’m pleased to share that my tanka, “Over the River to Grandmother’s House We Go,” has been published in the July 2022 issue of First Literary Review-East. Like “Candia, New Hampshire, 1926: Velma,” this poem  was published without its companion piece: Our Other Grandmother who is this person never leaves her chair black maid welcomes […]

#tanka publication: “Over the River to Grandmother’s House We Go” — Elizabeth Gauffreau