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ISRADELLA

 

Isradella waits

for ghosts of lovers past

to homogenize

 

Perfect recipes of want

ingredients elusive

beg materialize

 

Abundant beauty falls

shorter than ideal

too rarefied

 

Hope ever lives in one

who strives for vision

so eulogized

 

Reality proves tepid

in life-dreams eye

and Isradella cries

 

Disbelieve the sellers

unattainable perfection

and real-eyes

 

Love no longer exists

the world’s forgotten

to individualize

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000

Poem No 19 ‘Return of Rainbows’ in ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ pub Cork, Ireland, 2003.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #BOOK:ReturnOfRainbows  #POEM:Isradella  #LovePoems  #Poetry

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Exile

 

Colour my life with rainbow hues

happiness yellow,

warm pinks,

cool, distant blues

and the green of Ireland.

 

I miss you in my life.

 

I want to touch your skin.

I want to make you  smile

make your eyes twinkle

with lust – amusement

at my clever words

 

and electronic kisses…

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002

(Poem No 30 in ‘Exploring Possibilities…’ section of ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’, by Frances Macaulay Forde, 1st published in Cork, Ireland, 2003.)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #POEM:Exile   #ExploringPossibilities  #WrittenInIreland  #LovePoems  #Romance

 

 

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When I met 90 year old Tom, he was a West Australian Living Treasure and an absolute gentleman.

Also the winner of the Patrick White Award in 1992, Tom was appointed a Member of the Order of Australia (AM) in 1988 for services to literature, the author of many novels, including The Ridge and The River, Sowers of the Wind, Swagbelly, Birdsnatcher and The Prince of Siam.

He’d been writing for 60 years and celebrated his 90th birthday with a collection of stories & poems which illustrated his life.

At the official launch, I sat in selfish wonder listening to the magnificent voice of Jack Thompson booming, blasting passion into the masterly poetry and prose of T.A.G. Hungerford’s new book.

Taken from the back cover of  What’s Happened to Joseph?:  “With dazzling ease he moves from prose to poetry, from the ancient past to the present, from the small, absorbing passions of suburbia to the grim demands of jungle warfare. Hungerford makes us wonder just what did happen to Joseph, farther of Jesus Christ- did he continue to work in his carpenters trade, perhaps in Jerusalem – then takes us to the heart of Anzac Day, to the shimmering colours of outback Australia, or to his own front garden, and with every word he illuminates our own experience.”  

I loved every word of his book and want everyone to enjoy his insight, his sensitivity and his ability to place me right there, where he was when writing them.

‘ANZAC Day’ is a poem I believe would work well on screen; the opening lines; dense, establishing and heartfelt:

“This spot at the corner of Pier Street and the Terrace

between two churches – Presbyterian one side,

C. of E. on the other – is just made to order

for us Second Eighth blokes to form up for the March

this mild April morning.  Wild men we were, all of us.”

When Tom allowed me to host ‘An Afternoon With Tom’ during a very special Poet’s Corner event, devoted entirely to him, the place was packed with lovers of words wanting to hear him read and provide further insight to his writing.

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T.A.G. Hungerford graciously allowed me to interview him for BOOKS Australia during Poets Corner. FMF © 2006

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Kevin Gillam playing ‘Fascination’ for “An Afternoon with Tom” at Pages Cafe during Poets Corner. FMF © 2006

The last poem in his book; ‘Fascination Waltz’ is another favorite and made me cry.  That’s why I asked Kevin Gillam, a fellow poet, admirer of Tom and professional cellist to play ‘Fascination’.  I felt the love and saw a tear in Tom’s eye, too.

Although he’s gone now I still think of him and his words, often. I treasure the firstly hand-written, then typed letters we exchanged and an (as far as I know) unpublished poem “Grey Ghost”, which would also make a fantastic film.

I want to pay a larger tribute and help make his writings available to more by getting them up on the big screen. Any producers out there, interested?

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #TAGHungerford  #What’sHappenedToJoseph? #JackThompson  #Stories&Poems   #Poetry  #KevinGillam  #PoetsCorner  #PagesCafe

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Photo Source here.

Marisa Wikramanayake  : “I’m a journalist, a writer and an editor. Well, actually, I write novels and attempt to survive doing so by having adventures and being a journalist and an editor.”

Take a look at her website where, among many interesting postings, most recently she has started doing videologs in support of Australian Women Writers.  I’ve just watched Robin Bowers’ interview.

This poem was posted on Facebook today and I loved it. (Naturally, I asked permission to post it here.)

Were you to break me down into my constituent parts,
Bit by bit,
Build me back up again with IKEA instructions but perfectly,
(I will give you an Allen key),
With each Lego piece in its spot,
Bit by bit,
There would be no place for love.

Oh, there would be a tinkertoy space here, some engine that whirled around,
That makes me good at all the grand gestures,
That would let me let you go if you were happier without me,
Without me blinking,
Because you are made of flesh and nerve endings that will hurt,
But I am made of blocks that can be broken down and rebuilt,
Bit by bit.
So I can withstand it.

But there is the space you would find surrounded by the Fabuland set,
That would be that space that doesn’t quite work,
Perhaps they discontinued that line a long time ago,
Bit by bit,
But it’s the space that makes me wake you,
At three am because I want to talk,
Makes me since I am a brick,
Quite selfish and quite thick,
No good at the small important everyday love,
Ever feeling that my part in any duo would not be enough,
It’s the space that will make me leave you behind,
While I chase things that intrigue my mind,
Where I will stand wondering why I am not the one to be in your part when I know how a gendered romance should go,
That openly states when and how I feel,
Because no one who hears believes it’s real.
It’s the space in me that makes me stubborn,
Want to break down your walls and lay you open.
Bit by bit,
To dissect you, pull you apart so I know how you work,
So I can love you the way you deserve.

And you deserve different, flesh and blood with nerve endings and all,
Not something, half real, built of bricks prone to break apart and fall.
I have built myself up to work like a machine.
Over the years,
Bit by bit,
For maternal, fraternal love,
For grand gestures because I can’t protect you enough,
But not at all adequately for the small love on which you’re keen.

– Marisa Wikramanayake, (c) 2015

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #MarisaWikramanayake   #GuestPoem   #WAWriters  #Community   #FavWriters  #Love  #Poetry  #RobinBowers

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@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:BeachBabe  #Poetry  #Postcards  #Love

#Romance

 

 

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All Washed Up

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Cling to the plate rack of pine

Empty and turned to the tiles

Waiting for a water ball

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

No purpose for us to observe

Sadly exhibiting usage both

Hear the dishwasher call

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Colours faded and fingers worn

One springs a hole in the thumb

Its partner hears the bin fall

 

One rubber glove hangs discarded

Pale and lonely for its pigeon pair

Lost in the drain of life’s chaos

Single; no purpose at all

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:AllWashedUp  #Humorous  #Poems  #Ageism

 

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Circles

In this match of life
others call a game
my hands flutter to
find the finger holes.

I fix my gaze on pins
measuring the lane
grip hard and swing
bowling ball aimed.

Been knocked down
but stubborn as a pin
I stand again, ready
for the next bowler.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007

 

Written to art by the disabled for ‘Creative Connections’ exhibition in 2007.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:Circles  #CreativeConnections  #Poetry  #ArtIsTheSpark

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“Red Umbrella Series” by Jessica McCallum from ‘Raincheck’ Exhibition 2010

 

Ripples merge you and I

into a private existence

mirroring each other;

different shades of blues,

silver rings of protection,

white dots of hope,

green patches of communication,

blue background of love.

 

Until someone else

jumps in with both feet,

splashing and spreading confusion,

drenching our safeness 

with questions, green jealousy 

and blue moon moods,

holding a red umbrella.

 

After a while calm silver

reflects our feelings,

reminding us what we had

in our perfect puddle,

holding a mirror to our faces

before rubber boots intruded.

 

Until we realized what we had

before…

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2010

 

Raincheck an exhibition in case of showers…  2010 

Artworks by Mixed Media Artist, Jessica McCallum

Held Aug 23 – Sept 10, 2010 at Subiaco Arts Centre Gallery, Perth, WA.

(Poetry postcards from exhibitions available from JESSICA McCALLUM)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #ArtAsTheSpark  #Raincheck  #ARTIST:JessicaMcCallum  #Poetry  #RedUmbrella

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0911Zambian Sunset

Never

 

What can you say when a dear friend passes away?

That they were good and kind and loved by many?

That they were respected and stood by their beliefs

And are sadly mourned by the ones who weep?

 

Though we realise this must come to us all

Inevitably ~ how hard to accept when death

is so final ~ when someone you’ve talked to and

done things for has suddenly stopped replying…

 

The face that grew so familiar will never again

express thoughts. The eyes – so wise, though

getting faded now ~ are closed forever…

Never…. never… never and forever…

 

Never to see… or feel… or touch again…

Never to walk through fields or hear the rain…

Never to watch the seasons change each year…

They have gone forever and just left us here!

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 1968

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #1968Notebook:Never  #Poetry

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Another from my teenage notebook:

Mamba

 

A snake that wraps

it’s slimy body

around your

good intentions.

 

It has a bite

that transmits itself

into the other person.

 

How to ward off

it’s terrible grip?

 

Best to stand still

heart, bite your lip.

 

Best not to move

or show when you’re

in it’s grasp,

 

though your eyes

are green and all

around…

 

and it’s eating up your heart!

 

Frances Macaulay Forde @ 1969

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #1968Notebook:Mamba   #Snakes  #Poetry

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