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Posts Tagged ‘poetry in Western Australia’

RRPauline

‘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

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I love how sometimes a poem ends up taking you to all sorts of places you don’t expect.

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‘Dance’ by Jessica McCallum at His Majesty’s Theatre, 2009. #jessicamcallumartist

My poem “My Life as a Sari” has appeared alongside beautiful artworks.

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POETRY POSTCARD available from Jessica McCallum

An excerpt published on a postcard.

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#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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Here’s an experiment: I’ve been playing around with You Tube and have made a short video of my poem ‘Dieback’.

Every time we travel down South of Perth, I’m reminded of the poem I wrote in 2006 and was published in the Poets Union Anthology.

This terrible disease affects our native Jarrah and Tuart trees, spread by spores which infect the tree, eventually leaving it stripped and exposed.

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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…)

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

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A pair (female on right) of Carnaby’s Black Cockatoos in my Jacaranda. Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007.

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Those Carnaby’s Black Cockatoos ‘kissing’. Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007.

New Moon

 

Last night, a sliver of silver low on the horizon, above the sea;

The moon visible through the clear sliding door of my patio

but couldn’t wish on it, not through glass – bad luck!

 

So eyes-down  I opened the door, stepped out bare-feet on concrete 

past the patio setting, minding the balls Sonja has strewn

and stood, out in the cool (now Autumn) air and wished.

 

Can’t tell you what I wished for or it won’t come true – it’s not for me.

I am lucky in love.  My family are healthy and happy, I have you.

All that I need.  So how could I possibly ask for more, for me?  

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014

 

If you’ve got time, read more about these magnificent Carnaby’s but also, have a look at the best photos I’ve ever seen of them, up close, taken by Grace and posted on Perth Daily Photo today.

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Passport Photo: 15 years old

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1990 Bali Holiday – an amazing surprise 40th birthday gift from my Brother Paddy and sister in law, Grace.

I’m sitting here next to the lake listening to the Magpie’s talk, the Wood Ducks peep, the fountains filter their water. This is the first entry into my new notebook the red (for passion) one with a  teddy bear (you, of course)  playing guitar on the front!  I’ve also got my two passports with me and I thought I’d scan the pictures for you just for a laugh. One was taken before you, when I was 15 (British passport) and  the other way after, when I was 40 for the Bali trip.

Three tourists walked by obviously looking for something. So I said, ‘The kangaroos are over there’ (pointing) behind Cowan House, ‘lying around in the shade.’    Well, this lovely lady replied,    ‘Oh thEnk you!’  in a broad South African accent.  Small world hey?  She and her husband Gordon have  ‘…jEst arrIIEEyeved thus morning at 5am from Jo’burg for 5 dayZZ. He and Pete ‘aff  bin frEEnds since grade 5.  We’re goin’ out to dEEnar  tonight.’  She can’t believe how clean it all is… Anyway, they’re having a good look at our lawn mowers, who aren’t actually doing much.     Just lying back, torsos-twisted, scratching their bellies.  Totally unconcerned wild, Grey Kangaroos – and these tourists, just a couple of yards from them.

I’m obviously early for the poetry workshop. My watch has stopped again – it needs a service (another thing on my long list!). Wonder what we’ll tackle this afternoon.  I have no idea of today’s subject – haven’t been for while, far too distracted by you! Hope you’re having a lovely day. I’m being good and giving you ‘space’ (in the nicest possible way). I hope it’s helping with the study. Hmmmmm – poetry – erotic poetry for you. I wonder if I can do it?  First drafts only My Love:

 

1.  Coots

Lakeside, I watch

the Coots bouncing

on top of the water.

 

They throw their heads

with intention and abandon.

Plunging – immersing themselves.

 

I want to bounce,

immerse myself.

Plunge into you…

 

2.  Soixante-Neuf

Normally,

I wouldn’t want you

to look at my bum

at that angle…

 

But then,

you’re not doing

much looking,

N’est pa?

 

3. Your reward…

… is access.

Complete access.

Although the years

have worn – you can see!

I will allow you ~

only you, this viewing,

this exposure

to my most secret self.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002

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 RRCockatooChorus

Artwork: Jessica McCallum © 2000

Although actually written at university and included in my chapbook  ‘Return of Rainbows’, this poem was first published in ‘Peace & Freedom’ Magazine,  in London, 2001 with my daughter’s artwork.

Carnaby’s Black Cockatoos  are a highly endangered species of native birds only found in Western Australia.  Because of us, these noisy birds who possibly mate for life and can live 40 – 50 years, are in great danger.

Later the poem was included in my first book  ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’  published in Cork, Ireland in 2003.

COCKATOO CHORUS

“We’ll meet in the eucalypts down by the lake.

Discussion is needed – you have to partake!”

Black clouds flew from the oval, park and golf club

to raucously weigh down trees out in the scrub.

“Juicy larvae and insects prove harder to find

all the spraying and logging – ground being mined

has taken our homes, our gathering sites.

Together, in numbers we’ll fly up for our rights.”

.

From once sacred ground now suburbs, they flew.

From gum-tree nesting hollows, so precious and few

hundreds gathered early, in loud morning debate –

the Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo parrot’s fate.

Discussed at great length in the eucalypt trees

for young; less food, meant less ability to feed.

“Stop clearing, spraying – playing with our lives!

If we die, what hope have you got, to survive?”

.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000

Peace & Freedom Mag'CockatooChorus' 001

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Hyde Park in February… too hot to be out of the shade.

I’ve just found this beautiful poem on ABC Tales , so when you have a moment indulge yourself.

As a fan of the site for many years, I’ve benefited greatly from comments, encouragement and the sheer joy of reading wonderful words from writers I wouldn’t have read otherwise.

The very first item I posted was on the 15th March 2006 was a short story ‘Write to Romance’.   (I’ve posted loads of poems and stories on ABC Tales since.)

That story has since been read by 874 people (blows my mind!) and earned a ‘Cherry’ from the editors – such a huge boost in confidence.

So I recommend, anyone with stories or poems to share, join this fabulous FREE site and see what others think of your words but importantly,  receive some very constructive feedback from talented and experienced others.

Such a safe and nurturing environment is rare on the net.  I’m often inspired by what I read on there so I’m about to post this poem posted on here  in February, in response to ‘Bee’ and her poem ‘As Autumn Leaves’.

 

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Although it’s Autumn here in Western Australia, so many of my readers in the Northern Hemisphere, are enjoying the first flush of Spring, enjoying the gorgeous flowerings of a new season.

Hopefully you’ll find lots of moments to be outside in the glorious sunshine.  

Thought I’d share one of my ‘Spring’ poems and a couple of my photos of our WA Wildflowers

Western Australia is the only place you’ll find different species of Blue  flowers growing in the wild.

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Photo taken in Australian Spring,
our wildflower season, September. © 2014

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WA Wildflowers: Everlastings © 2014

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WA Wildflower: ‘Onion Weed’ © 2014

Painting Spring

Fluffy yellow balls appear

near long thin leaves

signaling an Aussie spring.

Jacarandas show specks

of green – soon purple petals

will carpet my patio floor.

Orchid-like the humble

Onion Weed reveals its

stubborn beauty

Forest search for Harden

bergia – purple creeper

where blue wrens flit.

No wonder I’m drawn

to spiky leaf and wild

flowers Everlastings.

Frances Macaulay Forde ~ 2014

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Climbing The Gloucester Tree 2005© Sean McClean

A Facebook friend lost an ex-uncle in life’s battle recently, Len Buckeridge.  

He was a tall poppy in this ‘small’ town where many of his courageous achievements for our capital city and state were judged by bigots.

But he left many a legacy thousands will wonder at and enjoy every day and probably never know who was responsible.

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Spectacular Perth Arena, built by Len Buckeridge’s BGC

Tall Tree Tanka

Unfortunately

too many enjoy trying

to fell tall trees

when they should be hugged.

We need to learn to look up.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014

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