Poetry Blogs (books)
Each mover, save one Renaissance man
Of fellow feeling, complained of the books
And the bookshelves to display them.
Why would anyone move these thousands
Of miles and from house to house when
They are so obviously rarely used?
But the bookshelves, fully loaded, serve a purpose:
For starters, they tell anyone curious enough to look
Where and how my intellectual development has unfolded...
Tuesday 16th April 2019 10:25 am
Words and image Tommy Carroll
Friday 22nd February 2019 10:14 pm
Nobody knows everything
But we should know what we do
Books are there for reading
And courses there to go
Don't say:"I know enough"
Your brain, sure, will freeze
Don't let someone to laugh
If you meet someone who knows
That the rule of good knowledge
Learn what you really need
The knowledge has a good bridge
To cross it, you must read
Friday 22nd February 2019 8:17 pm
"It was only ever fiction..."
Growing up I was a lonely child, never quite fit in anywhere.
But I can remember it clearly, the day I found the solution.
The fix? BOOKS
They saved me then and continue to do so now.
Thanks to them I have visited distant worlds, gone on epic journeys and have made so many great friends.
And although they may seem to be only ever fiction, Books have ...
Tuesday 19th February 2019 4:57 am
That thou may'st happly spend your day
Fair maid amongst the northern hills
With books and study that will oft defray
Your time and thought in winter's chills;
That there is pleasure 'mongst your shelves
Oh lady in your cottage home
Tis proven by each and everyone who delves
In dusty library vaults to hunt a tome;
That thy bookish studies are good I swear...
Monday 3rd September 2018 9:33 am
Books make visible the writer's soul
Which bleeds its angst by pen:
Spread thin across life's whited bowl
A thin red stain of madeleine
Books may offer us an author's eye
That ensnares the reader within its brail
Or should writers light the reader's sky
And tear apart the shadowy veil?
Books will hold the writer's thought
And bridge the gap twixt pen and read...
Friday 27th July 2018 2:49 pm
It starts with that
the feel of paper
between the fingers
the paper worn by touch
the ink a little faded
but the weight of
the incorruptible text
resting on the eye
retaining its worth
Even before that
there was the heft of it
in the hand
the boards scuffed
the jacket torn
but the perfection of
resting on the palm
Tuesday 24th July 2018 10:37 am
They dance in the shadows
Made by the trees
Branches stretched out
With long fingers
Claw like, grabbing
Taking a hold
And ripping at the soul
On the beaches
As the waves
Wash over them
Dragging them under
Taking their breath away
Soaked to the skin
On a knife edge
Broken glass under feet
Roses and chocolate
A torn tapestry
Thursday 24th May 2018 7:25 pm
Like reading a good book
I can’t stop turning your pages
What will this next chapter hold
Action, romance, comedy
I want to remove the layers between us
Page by page
The anticipation is killing me
I place my hands on each of your knees
I can’t wait to read you
Uncover the truth
Your body speaks so eloquently
I savor this beautiful book of art
Wednesday 28th March 2018 2:31 pm
These are other people’s stories you lose yourself in to escape, to live another life, to become someone different..Yet you don’t see how beautiful the one you are in is.
Breathing incense and admiring the little pot of sunshine unselfconsiously lost in your head. I see you wrapping Christmas presents and drinking tea, full of laughter and happiness. Don’t forget where you are and where you hav...
Saturday 10th June 2017 12:21 am
bookshops are like lovers
they numb in black & white
then seduce you with colour
titillate and tempt your soul
until you finally let go
find the courage to close
the book ~ pages which leave
you gasping ~ the breath of air
on your face feels like a slap
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2004
Saturday 13th May 2017 6:44 am
Let Me Sit Beneath An Old Lamp
Let me sit beneath an old lamp
With its shade tilted at an angle
Tracing my finger along rough paper
Glowing in a yellow light
Lost in worlds of other’s making
Drawn from the ebb and flow of words
Upon a dim-lit page
As evening draws in
Closing around my imagination
Time passing unnaturally
Monday 8th August 2016 9:17 pm
"Dear Bob Dylan is a collection of letters written over a ten year span. The letters encompass a literary endeavor by the author as a means to hone her voice without boundaries, to express all that is insoluble and alive in her life and like any philosophy, lend to a new perspective for friends, fans and critics alike."
I am thrilled to announce the publication of Dear Bob Dylan. Currently ava...
Sunday 5th June 2016 1:59 am
Parking his mobile library
A short time before it was due
He provided Jean with a sneak preview
Often giving her extra lending time
Without ever punishing her with a fine
as she adjusted her hair
And he adjusted himself
They placed fallen books
back onto the shelf
And when his bus groaned and spluttered off
Jean knew that she wasn't his only stop.
Friday 3rd June 2016 9:32 pm
Monday 28th March 2016 1:45 am
Monday 28th March 2016 1:35 am
(Arthur Mee’s England: Gloucestershire; 1939)
A book arrived yesterday
- a visitor from the last century
Visiting our modern-times day.
Carries news and views
But no photographs or maps.
Tells us all about
And the faces
Of the people
Who went there.
But most of all of everything
It brings the smoke
Of years gone by -
An incense offering to the gods.
Sunday 10th January 2016 3:01 pm
Dawn is naked and alive
pirouetting in the street outside
she is a broad grey sky, endless above
It's not rain...
just some foggy spray licking windows
a coat the building wears
a metaphor I cannot interpret
all irony is groggily lost on me
yawning with my whole body
struggling with the load of memory
I'm oiling daily
So maybe I should stay indoors
get the fire going, boil the kett...
Thursday 22nd October 2015 11:27 pm
WORDS OF WONDER
A word on a line
joined with many and more,
a story to tell
from behind a closed door.
A line on a page
and a paragraph to make,
from a thoughtful sage
to the ones who forsake.
A page in a book
telling tales short and tall,
just have a quick look,
hear the whispering call.
A book on a shelf,
many dusty old tomes,
a wealth of words
from across quiet rooms...
Thursday 24th September 2015 8:55 pm
Books Ladder Books Books
Books Ladder Double Window
Books Ladder Books Books
If you didn't understand this: you should have read this like you see a picture in front of your mind's eye. This is more a joke than serious poetry.
Sunday 26th July 2015 11:51 am
Listen not unto the lie that stings the lips.
Witness not the act that stays a pitied mind.
Speak not of the hatred that will crack the whips.
Let not those insidious be here enshrined.
Trample not upon the freedoms of your kin.
Take not which was never here for you to own.
Read not of the bitterness that splits the skin.
Write not of the malice that shatters the bone.
Reason with the lessons of...
Tuesday 15th July 2014 11:22 am
remembering the terrible lizard
my blood is ink
my words the beating heart
a page of skin
etched upon it
my vinyl soul
each hiss and crackle
pop and scratch
a wrinkle on the face
of times gone past
my music cries
with fuzz guitars
and thunder drums
cacophony of chaos
my world is dark
each pinprick light
a star to gaze upon
and wonder at t...
Friday 25th April 2014 2:21 pm
You can't get tits on a kindle,
so put that Amazon one down.
Your materialistic bullshit
truly does make me frown.
I got by on handmedown clothes,
chick sticks and Aldi own brand.
You really look silly with that massive phone kid,
it's bigger than your hand.
To me COD was a special chippy tea
on a Wednesday night, granddad got it for me.
Sunday 8th July 2012 11:15 pm
Writers never die,
The blue black,
Ink of their lives,
Past the fire,
They live on.
Tuesday 27th December 2011 12:23 am
I was at a MIND writing class today in Macclesfield given, 5 minutes to write about a line from a book here is what I came up with
Tall and slender, looking from the window,
the sun rose across the sky, a mesmerising enchanting lulaby,
awaking her senses breathing new life into the day.
Yet it was broken by the crash of thunder, the smash, last, the rain whipped aga...
Thursday 8th September 2011 4:46 pm
It is something that I have been doing now for the best part of 2 years.
At least twice a month an envelope arrives on my doormat addressed to my pseudonym. Right at the moment I see the envelope I find more and more I am breathing a huge sigh (although not of relief). Contained within the unassuming brown packaging could be anything. Of late the contents of these envelopes has tended...
Tuesday 13th April 2010 5:41 pm