Posted in Love, Poetry, Romance, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, Poem, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Valentine's Day, words, writer, writing on February 8, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Water bird
.
Lakeside, I watch
the Coots bouncing
on top of the water.
.
They throw their heads with
intention and abandon, plunging
– totally immersing themselves.
.
I want to bounce…
.
Immerse myself…
.
Plunge into you….
.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
1st pub: ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ by Frances Macaulay Forde, Ireland, 2003.
Posted in Love, Poetry, Romance, Writing, tagged Frances Macaulay Forde, Poem, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Valentine's Day, words, writer, writing on February 7, 2014| 1 Comment »
Vacuuming
.
With every pull
toward your body
you expect obedience.
Expect each micron of dirt
to be sucked up and away.
Look at the attention
you give stairs.
.
How do I become like stairs?
.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014
Posted in Africa, Books, Poetry, Writing, tagged Africa, Doris Lessing, Frances Macaulay Forde, Nobel Peace Prize, Northern Rhodesia, poems, Southern Rhodesia, The Grass is Singing', writer, Zambia, Zimbabwe on January 29, 2014| 3 Comments »
Recently Doris Lessing died at the ripe old age of 94 with more than 50 books to her name and 3 children, 2 of whom she abandoned to achieve her career dreams. So I find it interesting that she was later known for her humanitarian efforts – is it just me or is there something wrong with that picture?
Oh – she also won a Nobel Prize for Literature at the age of 88 (oldest recipient) for her life’s work.
“The Grass Is Singing” was her first publication in the 1950’s, at the time a shocking story of life in Southern Rhodesia – now Zimbabwe. That country banned her for 25 years but recently welcomed her with open arms.
I remember reading the story in the 60’s when I lived over the border, in Northern Rhodesia and being impressed with the characterizations and ‘reality’ she managed to capture and share.
And now I find out she was a poet, as well!
Posted in Africa, Poetry, tagged Africa, An Easter Tragedy, Frances Macaulay Forde, Morgan Tsvangirai, Mugabe, Nelson Mandela, poems, Roots & Wings, South Africa, Zimbabwe on December 10, 2013| 3 Comments »
Today, I’m watching The State Memorial for Nelson Mandela. The camera pans across all the international attendees as the representative of the A.N.C. reads out a list of those dignitaries. As she reads ‘President Robert Mugabe’ a huge roar erupts and I am astounded! Don’t they know how many of his own people he has slaughtered, starved, beaten to within an inch of their lives and stolen from – and continues to do so?
Here Mugabe sits in a now free and democratic South Africa where everyone has a vote. I wonder how the people around him feel? Surely the UK and USA PM and President will not shake his hand… I find his presence insulting and wonder if Mandela would have felt the same way.
There must be more of Africa in me than I thought, because I seem to have the memory of an elephant. How can that despot be feted when he has hated and been responsible for so much misery perpetuated onto his own people – not his enemies, but his fellow citizens of what was once a beautiful country. A country I visited often, before he raped and pillaged, to swell his Swiss Coffers and build a Chinese Palace.
Quite a few years ago now, I wrote a poem inspired by letters smuggled out of Zimbabwe when the killing was at it’s worst when the world was finally taking some notice and new hope was on the horizon in the form of Morgan Tsvangirai. Unfortunately, Mugabe didn’t go quietly and still pulls the purse strings, making it more than difficult for Morgan to help his people.
‘Roots & Wings’ was published in newspapers and on the net by others. A second poem was written at Easter, when I could no longer ignore the obvious metaphor; Mugabe often likens himself to Our Lord : An Easter Tragedy
#RobertMugabe #Zimbabwe #AnEasterTragedy #Roots&Wings #Despot #Terrorist #Poem
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…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
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.
Posted in Poetry, Writing, tagged Adrien Abbott, Australian Love poems, Australian Poetry, Frances Macaulay Forde, inkerman & blunt, LIke Dust, Love, love poem, poems, poetry in Western Australia, words, writer on November 8, 2013| 3 Comments »
Facebook is such a trigger for this blog: Today a beautiful anthology of ‘Australian Love Poems’ was reviewed and linked by Adrien Abbott Prize page with the quote from Anne Walsh Miller: ‘You’re written in me in the before antiquity language of snowflakes. / Landing everywhere on me so thickly that you’re on me and in me and on my tongue / (you on my tongue is why I talk beautifully like snow under a streetlamp).’
In the light of recent plagiarism issues with Australian Poetry, the quote reminded me strongly of a poem of my own published in 2005 when I was asked to write a love poem to be read at a good friend’s wedding. As I had very recently found myself deeply and unexpectedly in love, Barry asked me to express feelings which overwhelmed me, at precisely the right time.
In 2003 I returned from 14 glorious months immersed in poetry and short story where I learnt the ‘I’ was usually taken out of poetry, so this would be a new public direction – I usually kept my ‘love’ poems very private.
The style of writing had to suit the audience – Barry’s mum was deaf and many of her deaf friends would be there with an interpreter to share our words.
Read my poem ‘Like Dust’
Those who ‘watched’ my words, apparently loved the poem although I didn’t find out until later there is no ‘sign’ for ‘dust’, so the interpreter had to improvise… but she managed beautifully.
And I was left wondering, what a shame I couldn’t submit my poem to the anthology ‘Australian Love Poems’ because it was already in the public domain and those I did submit obviously didn’t appeal because they weren’t included. Not that I’m too disappointed, they let me down easily by saying many excellent poems were not included.
I actually bought two copies, one for me and a gift for a friend but was so pleased with the book in my hand, I’ll be buying more as gifts for Christmas.
Inkerman & Blunt’s next project is an anthology of Love stories. No doubt it will also grace my bookshelves and be wrapped in Christmas paper.
Posted in Writing, tagged ABC Tales, Australian Literature (AusLit), Australian Poetry, Australian Society of Authors, australian writers guild, Burn Beach Cafe, Facebook, Film & Television Institute, Frances Macaulay Forde, LinkedIn, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Poets Cafe, Poets Corner, Screenwest, website, words, writer on October 28, 2013| Leave a Comment »
Now that internet is ‘old hat’ I don’t feel the need to have multiple ‘pages’ spread all over the place although they serve me well when people Google my name, I’m slowly reducing the information on my official web pages here: http://francesmacaulayforde.com to cut down the repetition.
Of course I’ll keep my presence on professional sites where I have full membership such as the Australian Society of Authors, the Australian Writers Guild, Australian Poetry, Australian Literature, SCWBI or crew pages: Screenwest, Film & Television Institute, ABC Tales IMDB and others. There’s even an interview on Fremantle Press.
So in future, I’ll just focus on regularly updating Facebook (for all the goss), LinkedIn (for professional networking), ABC Tales (to post writing regularly) and here, where I’ll keep in touch with my followers in gratitude for their interest.
Posted in Poetry, Poetry Postcards, tagged Australian Poetry, Burn Beach Cafe, Frances Macaulay Forde, new writing, poems, poetry in Western Australia, poetry postcards, words, writer on October 23, 2013| Leave a Comment »
So I thought I’d share some poetry postcards I’ve printed up. I use my own photos or artworks with my poems and give them away when I’m doing talks or workshops.
Recently I was in Residence at Burn Beach Cafe as part of the Cafe Poets Project with Australian Poetry, our national organisation and my postcards were quite popular.
The first three are from my time at Burns Beach on the Sunset Coast of Western Australia and the next couple are others chosen at random… I have published many…
More information here: http://francesmacaulayforde.com/writing_poetry/postcards
Posted in RailTales, Writing, tagged BOOK:RailTales, city to suburbs, commuting, Frances Macaulay Forde, Hidden Capacity, Perth, poems, poetry, poetry in Western Australia, Rail Rales, short stories, travelling by train, words, writer on October 21, 2013| 2 Comments »
Although I was invited to the inaugural Avon Valley Writer’s Festival last year, to speak and workshop with my screenwriter’s hat on, I wanted something tangible for the audience to purchase so (as mentioned previously) self-published three small books.
Since writing the poems in 1998-2000 on the train between the Northern Suburbs, to the City of Perth then on to University in Mt Lawley, they appeared in my first book published in Ireland ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ and more recently re-assessed and ‘tweaked’ to appear in the stand-alone chapbook for sale. Some pieces have also appeared variously in publications and on the net.
Now I’m hoping to give it yet another life, to convert the chapbook to an e-book for purchase on-line. Any suggestions? The service at Amazon has been recommended although I’ve been told not to expect ‘many dollars’ it’s a chance for many to see the poems and a whole new experience for me so I’ll have a look at it. As I’m not really clever technically, I’m looking for something laywoman easy 😮
Meantime I thought I’d share a story and poem from the book just in case you wanted to investigate further either by purchasing a hard copy from me or perhaps later an e-book from Blurb, Issuu or Amazon. These are the first couple of pages:
Edgewater Station, 7.45am.
The first time I climbed the ramp to cross the empty freeway I thanked my daughter’s advice for nervous, first-time train-travel.
“Don’t make eye-contact and take something to read.”
Embarrassingly unfit; I was truly unworthy of riding to city steeples and naked greed. However, I was able to slow my breathing before reaching the platform, populated by corporate black.
Like others in smart casual I waited unprepared, searching and praying that I had correct change. No way would I approach anyone to help if my Target Special revealed only notes. An extra minute to read the zones and I felt their impatience stab my shoulder blades.
First rule: be prepared. Why doesn’t someone press the ‘Next Train to Perth’ button? How long have I got? Finally, the clunking use of coins and metal spit of ticket, loudly confirmed my lack of railway sophistication.
As I claimed my waiting spot, the gentle morning sun warmed my arms and I began to relax.
My head moved left to spy an approaching train. Then swung right, to relax the tension. The violent clash of eyes focussed on the anticipated train, brought heat and colour flooding to my face. Have I broken another rule?
I turned away. Moved left and slid around to a corner bench, hiding under graffiti steps.
A cleaner diligently wiped the dead remains of habit from a shiny steel surface. As our eyes met, she smiled in understanding. My isolation lifted with the corners of my mouth. “Good morning.”
A distant sparkle from Joondalup Tunnel caught my attention. Although I had lost my place for the central carriages, I joined the stragglers just as the last door swept toward my flat comfortable-s.
The unsmiling silent wave surged toward the precipice, eager to rest their feet or continue sleep. We were swallowed with a whoosh.
All around people take off their Sunnis and don clear glass, casually opening their oft-thumbed pages: Time magazine, corporate handouts, New Idea, ‘Bondage – a love story’ the latest Patricia Cornwell…
I am starting my own new adventure – a new life.
No husband ~ he’s decided to share his bacon with a younger model.
No children to care for – they’ve all moved out, no-one who needs me, just me.
So I’m dealing with the empty nest, taking my new life into a different direction ~ a city job direction.
The first day of my new life: new job; new me. Is it obvious?
No one speaks, except the odd un-sophisticate, who broadcasts gossip as if it elevates them.
I lose myself in Harry Potter and block out the other occupants, cocooned against intimidation.
Priority Seating.
Chivalry’s not dead.
Young man offers an older
person his seat, but
not the young lady. He stands
silently, matching her sway.
Freeway Sprawl.
relaxed – half asleep
compassionately floating past
overheated motors crawling
without air-conditioned silence
forced to queue as road workers
widen a future path.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2013
Posted in Writing, tagged dreams, Frances Macaulay Forde, Hidden Capacity, new writing, Perth, poems, poetry in Western Australia, words, writer on October 19, 2013| 2 Comments »
For too long, I’ve ignored this blog totally unsure of how to proceed but yesterday, I plunged and wrote about Self-publication. Well, I’ve had such lovely people sign on to follow me I’m now enthused and confident enough to do another post – the day after the last! So here goes… One of my new followers is Charlotte Hoather with the voice of an angel, who welcomes readers to her blog via a message about following her dream. So I thought I’d post a little piece I wrote when a poetic friend and I met for lunch at a local garden center cafe and were discussing dreams. As we left, these colorful sculptures captured my poetic sense of humor – the metaphor was too good to waste. Enjoy!
Pigs might fly…
Who says they can’t?
Is there an omniscient
oinker monitor float-
ing in the same tree?
Who has the right
to tell watchers
who dream
the impossible
that pigs might…?
In deepest despair
we need hope,
need dreams
to fall back on.
A competitive spirit…
Who says we can’t?
I need to soar
above my world
sometimes, believe
there’s something
sizzling just
around the corner,
if I could only see ~
take a butchers
into the future
and grab
a curly tail…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2012
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