Posted in Perth City, Poetry, WA Writers, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, poems, relection, selfishness, WAwriters on September 18, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Do you think that those who
always insist on entering first
ever open doors for others,
offer help when it isn’t needed
or even look back ~ except to
bask in their own reflection?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
#FrancesMacaulayForde #poems #selfishness #reflection #WAwriters
Posted in Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, impact of photos, Ireland, morals, newpaper articles, photoographs, poems, poetry on September 12, 2014| 1 Comment »
Written in response to an article in the Irish Examiner, 9th May 2003.
Front Page Impact
Was it right to show all those bodies
in make-shift coffins, lined up like
so many bargains at a boot sale?
What’s happened to our humanity
when thirty-three elderly people die
and the focus is on the ‘exciting’ visuals
of a train hitting a bus – slicing it in half,
reveling in the mangled mess? I said
the same about recent war coverage.
Am I the only one who cringes, every time
I see pain and suffering celebrated without
thought of the mother, father, brother, friend.
Or the lover, who may chance to see a half-clothed,
disguarded pile of damaged meat and bones,
and suddenly recognize a shirt or scarf or shoe…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
Published on the net: Write Out Loud
#FrancesMacaulayForde #Impact #DeadBodies #Exposure #Unauthorized #Poetry #IrishExaminer
Posted in Art, Art as the Spark, Love, Poetry, Romance, tagged Artist: Jessica McCallum, Frances Macaulay Forde, POEM: Distain, poems, poetry, romance on August 29, 2014| 6 Comments »
distain
Your contempt for my feelings
broke something inside – no, not
my heart, it was my soul… You
judged me harshly, unworthy –
beneath your regard. In total
disgrace, I slunk away to heal.
I needed to breathe deeply,
to absorb the pain, swallow
before wearing silk again…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2011
#FrancesMacaulayForde #JessicaMcCallum #ArtAsTheSpark #Romance #Love #Poems #LovePoems #ArtPoems #Art
Posted in 1968 Notebook, Love, Poetry, tagged 1968 Notebook, Frances Macaulay Forde, heart, Innocence, Love, poems, poetry on August 22, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Before we met,
my heart was young,
it showed its reactions
to everyone.
Worn on my sleeve,
it was easy to know,
easy to see feelings
come and go.
But since we’ve met,
my heart’s a closed door,
no-one knows the hurt
or happiness anymore.
Not even you – and you
hold the key but what
is the good when
you don’t love me?
Frances Macaulay Forde @ 1965
#francesmacaulayforde #1968notebook #lovepoems #love #poems #poetry #romance #follow #instagram #twitter
Posted in Books, KINDLE Books, Poetry, tagged BOOK: Hidden Capacity, eBOOK: Return Of Rainbows, Frances Macaulay Forde, POEM: Bar of Grief, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, writer, writing on July 22, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Upturned bottles once lined with military order
on dusty, termite-rotten shelves. Fingerprints,
clear spaces of use, caught by the shafts of daylight
through pin-holes where nails have been.
A puddle of spilt pain, beneath an upturned bench.
Life, wasted in boozy stench lies forgotten,
punished for excess, while determined creatures
march with hunger towards rotten snacks.
Dirt’s secret world survives in semi-darkness.
Corrugated walls, rusting-red and brown. Drips
where rain had been, left tracks as if guiding
to the next place. A dark, dank, mud-bed
suitable for long soft round things
to slither and slide through eyes now closed.
Still focused on nightmare dreams, gone before.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 1998
#FrancesMacaulayForde #POEMBarOfGrief #BOOKHiddenCapacity #eBOOKReturnOfRainbows
Posted in Africa, Animals, Art, Books, nature, Poetry, Writers, Writing, tagged Africa, Artist: Jessica McCallum, Elephants, Exhib: All the Pretty Ones Are, Frances Macaulay Forde, Global March for Elephants and Rhinos, Harry Owen, Jessica McCallum, poems, Rhinos, Satao of Tsavo, writing on June 15, 2014| 7 Comments »
My daughter’s studio. #JessicaMcCallum © 2011
My daughter Jessica McCallum’s 3rd exhibition ‘All the Pretty Ones Are’ (all things Circus) was held in 2011 at the Heath Ledger Theatre foyer in the new and exciting State Theatre Centre.
I feel the poetry I wrote to the artworks of that exhibition, was some of my best; particularly this one written from a childhood memory of the circus coming to our small town in Africa. Although he was an Indian elephant – African elephants can’t be tamed and I love them more, for that.
The Global March for Elephants and Rhinos is a call for a world-wide response to the continued senseless cruelty – the terrible things happening to these beautiful, wise, gentle creatures.
Just weeks ago what’s said to be the largest bull elephant in Africa; Satao of Tsavo in Kenya had his face hacked off for his magnificent tusks!
All this information is thanks to Harry Owen on Facebook: I’ve mentioned before, his book to raise funds for the cause of saving Rhino’s and can’t wait for my copy…
Meanwhile I thought I’d share another of my poems from that exhibition.
Artwork 2 of 4 from the ‘Play’ series, sketch in progress. #JessicaMcCallum © 2011
When I was a child
I remember thinking
that chain around
the elephant’s leg
wasn’t strong enough.
Elephants are tough!
If he wanted, he
could free himself just
by lifting that mighty foot
shaking the metal loose
and walking away…
Why does he stay?
No-one could stop him
If he chose to go, take
his own path. No more
performance on command
– he could find some green.
Walk through jungles again!
Elephants are tough so
why does he stay, stroll
through sawdust, put up
with that lady who leans
into his ear, whispering…
It’s because he loves her.
#FrancesMacaulayForde #JessicaMcCallumArtist #AllThePrettyOnesAreExhib #HarryOwen #GlobalMarchForElephantsAndRhinos #SataoOfTsavo
Posted in Books, Ireland, Poetry, Short Stories, Writers, Writing, tagged Breda Wall Ryan, Crannog Spring 2014, Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, Poem, poems, Rush Quinlan, short stories, writer, writing on June 9, 2014| Leave a Comment »
CRANNOG Spring 2014 Journal
A free subscription was included with entry into their competition, so I’ve just received my copy of ‘CRANNOG Spring 2014’.
Wish I’d read it before entering… The book feels slim but the 88 page volume is packed with clever writing.
The Galway editorial board did a superb job of choosing short stories and poems which affect the reader – and they did.
Like “Worship” by Ruth Quinlan: Your white shoes aren’t white at all. They’re just cream pretending to be white and when you hold them against the Communion dress they look old and discoloured even though you know they’re new.
The words put put me right into the moment of my own Holy Communion (which I haven’t thought about since) remembering the crisp feel of new material and the smell of polished shoes. Wonderful writing.
Or Breda Wall Ryan’s “Crushie” poem: The rain has stopped. Sunlight/veneers a table set between windows. /The year turns.
The journal CRANNOG Spring 2014 is available for Kindle fans or surprisingly cheaper as a printed version.
Certainly well worth the few dollars to enjoy such gifted authors.
#FrancesMacaulayForde #CrannogSpring2014 #RuthQuinlan #BredaWallRyan
Posted in Books, Hidden Capacity, Poetry, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, Hidden Capacity, Jessica McCallum, Poem, POEM: Call Waiting, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, words, writer, writing on June 3, 2014| 2 Comments »
‘Pauline’: Jessica McCallum 2002 #jessicamccallum #francesmacaulayforde
Call Waiting
I killed you!
I took away your power to insult.
Never again will your strident, insistent beeping
intrude on intimacies between friends.
No. I struck you off.
I pressed the buttons that devoured you.
I ended your reign of terror.
Then Pauline rang
‘A new baby? Wond….’
Beep – Beep! Beep – Beep!
You didn’t die!
From happy jubilation
brain switches,
buttons pressed,
retreating “Call me back.”
I lost the war.
I don’t blame Pauline.
Rudeness is forgiven under pressure
from the mighty “I wonder who it is?”
Someday I’ll explain
and continue my campaign
for courtesy.
I died a little.
Aren’t I important too?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002
(Another from my book “Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey”. )
#HiddenCapacity #francesmacaulayforde
Posted in Books, Hidden Capacity, Poetry, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, Hidden Capacity, Poem: My Car, poems, poetry, words, writer, writing on June 2, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Cover ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ #francesmacaulayforde #HiddenCapacity
One from my book: ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poets journey’, Pub. 2003, Ireland.
My Car
Red used to be my favourite colour.
I’d just get Tinkerbell (my 1983 Mitsubishi Colt)
cruising nicely at sixty kilometres an hour
then red.
I’d have to slow down.
Pump the brakes.
Change gears gingerly in case her clutch drops out….
An old girl now, she needs TLC…
takes her time to build up speed,
then I see red. (Or orange.)
Bugger!
But, once she’s there (sixty K.’s) she sings like a bird.
I think it reminds her of her youth.
I’ve tried dressing her up (covering the rust).
The silvers don’t match and I know she feels the shame.
The petrol pump makes her feel better.
Once I insert that nozzle,
she almost smiles.
Her seat greets me tenderly
and we smoothly swing away,
high on fumes.
Yesterday,
a young man washed her windows.
She sparkled and purred.
Yes. Red used to be my favourite colour.
Now mottled shades of silver have loyal appeal!
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
#HiddenCapacity #francesmacaulayforde
Posted in Art, Dance, Love, Perth City, Poetry, Theatre, WA Writers, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, Fremantle Press, Indigo Journals, Jessica McCallum, Poem, Poem: My Life as a Sari, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Western Australia, words, writer, writing on May 29, 2014| 1 Comment »
I love how sometimes a poem ends up taking you to all sorts of places you don’t expect.
‘Dance’ by Jessica McCallum at His Majesty’s Theatre, 2009. #jessicamcallumartist
My poem “My Life as a Sari” has appeared alongside beautiful artworks.
POETRY POSTCARD available from Jessica McCallum
An excerpt published on a postcard.
#IndigoJournal
And published in the INDIGO JOURNAL of West Australian Writing, Vol 3 published by INDIGO books and received lovely comments.
Fremantle Press have recently become on-line partners with the original publishers of the journals and have always been tremendous supporters of those who write in Western Australia, quietly promoting and encouraging new, emerging and established writers by putting their money where their mouth is.
As a result of my inclusion in the journal, Fremantle Press also interviewed me about my writing and particularly, this poem.
My Life as a Sari
Securely tuck your fears under elastic
at the centre of your waist with your left hand,
and with your right, hold the remaining
metres of spun silk – your future, facing inside.
Measure the drop of the fall
and it’s finely stitched edge
for correct positioning against heels.
Wrap yourself in the gossamer fold,
swirling the diaphanous film behind
but stay level and wedge the top border
into your petticoat.
Like a bride preparing herself,
you are now ready to pleat.
At a distance from the last fixing,
hand-measure the delicate veil,
embroidered with details
important to who you are
toward the middle of your body.
Some may need five pleats, some six.
Less is more. Another judgement held on show
– a statement of size, however graciously it moves.
Securely fix the perfumed fanning
and grasp what is left, bring it back around
to wrap warmly and return to the front.
These days, you can choose to gather all loose
ends onto your left shoulder, secured with a jewel.
But many prefer to throw the remainder
over, remembering to hold an arm half bent,
letting the end float freely – the beaded
edge skimming the inside of your wrist.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2009
#francesmacaulayforde
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