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Posts Tagged ‘Ireland’

Wordless Wednesday: Yeats

Posted in Art, Books, Ireland, Poetry, Wordless Wednesday, Writers, tagged Co. Sligo., Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, Sligo, W.B. Yeats, writers on May 7, 2014| 3 Comments »

W.B. Yeats Statue in Sligo, town center, Ireland.

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Wordless Wednesday: Curlew Pass

Posted in Art, Ireland, Wordless Wednesday, tagged Co. Sligo., Frances Macaulay Forde, Gaelic Horseman, Ireland, Statue, Wordless Wednesday on April 30, 2014| 2 Comments »

“The Gaelic Horseman” overlooks the battlefield at Curlew Pass in Co. Sligo, Ireland. (Photo: FMF © Oct. 2003)

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Wordless Wednesday: Sweater Shop

Posted in Ireland, Other blogs, Wordless Wednesday, tagged Cliffs of Moher, Co Clare, Doolin, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, The Sweater Shop on April 23, 2014| 4 Comments »

The Sweater Shop, Doolin, Co Clare, 2003.

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Koffee Korner Kafé

Posted in Books, Ireland, Other blogs, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged Co Waterford, Dungaran, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Sketching In Ireland, Social Bridge, Western Australia, writing, writing in Western Australia on April 3, 2014| 8 Comments »

PROPOSED: Back & front cover of a work in progress.

Reading other blogs often inspires me or reminds me of a poem I’ve written and it’s happened again.

Social Bridge posted about Co. Waterford and reminded me of wonderful times spent in Dungarvan and a tour taken of the Waterford Chrystal Factory.

(Although I couldn’t load the whole video it was nice to hear Jean’s voice.)

The original poem is much longer but here’s a preview from the book “Sketching in Ireland” – all a work in progress.

“Koffee Korner Kafé”

(An exerpt.)

Dungarvan town sleeps in school-time. King

John’s Castle, ancient bridge and four-storey

moderns overlook calm Brickey’s tidal flow.

We trod the cobblestones, leaning forward

in the breeze, audibly aware of intoned

melodies caught in doorways and cars.

The courteous cruise with windows down

in the warmth. Walking Market Square, coats

closed, feeling echoes of town center seventeen

hundred. Butter market, slick with Council men

and spirited characters in United Irishmen Power.

Feeling occupation, execution, all history

held in a narrow staircase, an oft-painted

hidden door to the second floor, leading to

The Koffee Korner Kafé. (Continues…)

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Thoughts on St Paddy’s…

Posted in Africa, Ireland, Love, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, WA Writers, Writing, tagged Co Cork, Day, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, Irish roots, Loss, Love, Poem, St Patgricks, Western Australia, words, writer, writing on March 17, 2014| Leave a Comment »

St Paddy’s Day in Cork, at the parade, 2003

Spending 14 glorious months in Co Cork and having the opportunity to attend a real Irish St Patrick’s Day Parade on Patrick Street in Cork City; my Irish Hubby and I always raise a glass to our Irish roots.

It turns out (after much family history research) both our families come from Co Cork, about 10 miles from each other ~ but we actually met in the middle of Africa!

My gorgeous Hubby and I celebrating in Oz. 2008.

Inevitably, I can’t help thinking of my dear old Dad who was so proud of his heritage who cannot have his usual Guinness today ~ we lost him 31 years ago.

My Dear Old Dad on holiday in South Africa 1966.

Unconditional

That moment

when I realized

you weren’t asleep,

I couldn’t cry.

I wanted to,

thought I should,

but I couldn’t shed tears

for all those years

when I was loved

unconditionally.

When I knew

no matter what I did

or said, you would always

love me – be there for me.

Put a plaster on my hurts,

fix me up with kisses, give

words to make me feel better.

I’ll never forget your strength.

How your arms encircled me,

the safeness of a oak tree,

dense, caring and complete.

I need that care now!

I need to feel safe again,

to sail into your harbour of care,

find you there, waiting

with open arms, accepting

all my faults, all my mistakes

and letting them go.

You always helped me

move on to new adventures,

strengthened by your love.

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Irish Midsummer

Posted in Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Co Cork, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, poems, poetry on November 28, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Co. Cork

Midsummer

The young hare

on country roads,

blurred speed,

dance with danger.

–

Ears flat back along,

legs pumping, stretched out

in thumping rhythm.

–

Teenagers ‘vogue’

among foxgloves,

buttercups, daisies…

–

Identify fatal perfumes

inviting the innocent,

unwary sniff-er

to twitch

inquisitive noses

roadside.

–

Sudden glare

of spotlights

freeze-framed,

seconds

star struck

– THWACK!

–

My body

flies up,

stops.

Legs loosely

flap – fold.

–

Here lies…

with body stilled,

knees crossed

like a lady…

Text & Photos are Copyrighted: You are welcome to share what’s written here so long as the appropriate credit (my full name) is applied. Also ( as a courtesy) it would be good to know where and when my content is shared. Thanks. Frances.

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Road Repairs

Posted in Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Ballyhooly, Co Cork, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, Lyre, Mallow, poetry on November 27, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Lyre, Co. Cork

As I mentioned before, my gorgeous man took me to live in Midleton, Co Cork for 14 glorious months.

Every couple of days we’d get in the car and head out somewhere new.

Obsessed with trees and castles there were certainly plenty to keep me interested, meandering along byways bordered by stone walls built centuries ago, I loved tracing the steps of paternal ancestors.

Even got used to suddenly being confronted by huge tractors or hay balers taking up the whole (narrow) road. Luckily small dents in the stone walls just big enough to fit a car are provided for just such surprises!

We’d wandered between Mallow and Ballyhooly in North Co. Cork, to visit a family grave…

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.

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Munster Literarture Centre

Posted in Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged Co Cork, Co Galway, Cork, Festivals, Frances Macaulay Forde, Gort, Gregory O'Donoghue, Ireland, Munster Literature Centre, Yeats House on November 23, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Yeats House in Gort, Co Galway, Ireland.

For 14 glorious months I wallowed in the ‘Cradle of Storytelling’ Ireland.

Every Wednesday I attended a workshop at the Munster Literature Centre with the literati of the Cork Writing Scene which we’d break with a lunch at the local pub.

MLC Literati

A recent prompt from the Australian Poetry Centre inspired this epitaph for Gregory O’Donoghue whose brain held so much wisdom and knowledge, who generously critiqued and encouraged devoid of discrimination and I thank him.