Hi Frances - thank you for your comments.
Re: Basque - I guess I wanted to give the poem a sort of breathless excitement, hence the "I's" and "ands"! It didn't need to flow poetically so much as pant passionately!
Regarding HD, I wanted to put more than "you're beautiful to me", as it is about not minding age and a few wrinkles in the one you love. The "we never really were" perfect is important too, because no-one is really perfect, even when young. When we look back from middle age at old photos we may think "wow, I looked rather good then!" but at the time we were maybe not confident enough and only saw the flaws. And, hopefully, if you love and desire someone, you love their flaws. Thanks for your comments. I have never had so much feedback, don't know why this poem has caused so much interest. I'll read yours now!

I spent 14 months living in Midleton, near Cork until 2003 and this is one of the poems I wrote there:


Left Field
--------------

Lined up like the Waterford cows,
metal bodies glitter in an Irish field.

Black rubber circles squelching
acres of reconstituted bovine cud.

A Friesian audience has gathered
to ruminate on two-legged animals

with red and white coats, running
and Hurling a stone to each other,

between showers, near Carol’s Cross.



Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

Thank you Tomas,
I spent my formative years between 1954 and 1974 in Northern Rhodesia which became Zambia in 1964. I'm in touch with friends who still live or have family there.
My heart goes out to the people of Zimbabwe who are suffering - the ordinary person in the street is dying although he has millions in his hands, he cannot buy food or milk because there isn't any in the shops and his millions are worthless.
Any change at all, must be an improvement! When Independance was granted and for quite a few years afterwards, Zimbabwe was THE place to holiday or to live because the ordinary man in the street was happy and could afford to be very comfortably.
Now, no-one can except those in power who live in Chinese palaces and shop in Paris on a whim!
It's time... and here's another poem for you. This one appears on here http://www.sokwanele.com/thisiszimbabwe/archives/category/opinions-and-emotions/page/3
It's called:

ROOTS & WINGS

When someone asks for a memory
of Africa, I always remember
those dusty hours spent outside
Katie’s Khaya under the Mopani…

Quiet melodious chattering,
the smell of sunshine and family.
Bright white sudza plops in the pot
while bundu sticks crackled with fire.

Low stools where we crouched
in total concentration on a square
of a dozen small indents for stones,
scratched out of Africa’s skin.

Today Eddie talks of ‘roots and wings’,
of flights of fear or stoic stance:
the holes left by those who uproot
and the bravery of those who stay…

I visualize a map of Zimbabwe
systematically marked with holes.
Is this just another game of ‘Stones’
where only one man gets a turn?

Frances Macaulay Forde ~2007

A lot of people are concerned about Zimbabwe, but who is to say the opposition will be any better?

The feeling in the piece is expressed well.

My poem needs to be read aloud to your Valentine:

Like Dust...

…in the brightest moments of your life you will see me, know I am here,
but most of the time, forget you are surrounded until I pile myself onto
the surfaces of your life, obscure the view ~ stop you seeing clearly,

for I will blind you with dust. I have finally found the perfect place,
will settle proudly, content to exist in your garden, even when you shovel
me around, stack me on the side or toss me away turning me into mud

with tears… I will still be here. You’ll see me hurrying as the sunlight
streams, to nestle happily once again in the nooks and crannies
of your everyday. As you work, I will lay waiting patiently on polished glass

for you to draw, or write, or whisper a reminder of me. When you move
or brush me from your shoulder I will find a way to climb up, to be near
your heart once more, to hold you, to cover you with many, many particles

so light, so soft, so tender you won’t be able to ignore me because I want
to go where you go and be where you are. I am found in every corner
of your life, all of your rooms, all of your emotions and all of your actions.

Remember I absolutely exist. I am on your breath ~ your clothes ~ your food.
I am outside, around and in you. I will multiply with every puff of kissed air,
each gentle breeze moving over your body, every cloud that shadows

the brilliance of your day, each current of warmth, every time you touch.
I am here resting on every surface of your life. You’ll see so much dust
you’ll want to claim it, write your name in it and make me yours ~ forever!

© 2008