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.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000

1st Published in 'Rail Tales' section of "Hidden Capacity ~a poet's journey" in Ireland, 2003. 

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I went down to town on a whim for a show

And although I know what to expect

I can never guess what exactly I’ll find

I go into it blind, or relatively so

And although I don’t often think of you

It’s true that I do whenever I’m here

Whether you’re far or near, I’ve got no idea

But it’s clear to me that I anticipate

Tumbling into you in whatever state

I find you or myself ...

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PHOTO: McDaid's Folk Club in Midleton, Cork © FMF 2003.

McDAID's FOLK CLUB

We carefully stepped through the seated crowd,
she smiled in surprised delight
and pulled you down to whisper
invitingly.

I watched the young guitarist finger-pick,
thought about her possessive hand
placed on your willing arm
and felt sick.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

LISTEN: https://soundcloud.com/fr...

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I face this mirror and see

The absolute truth.

God loves me, this I know, 

Because He sent you.

This glass is polished to a silver shine,

No streaks, cracks, or scratches.

Just the light that your eye catches.

My mirror reflects, 

On days when I’m not my best

The love I’ve given to it.

The intentional time,

Encouragement and accountability,

Forgiveness and compr...

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My dearest,

Your laugh is like rain,

It soaks me, drowns me,

Until I can breathe no more.

Your smile is so bright,

It could power cities,

It blinds me, until everything else is night,

And you are the only sun I have ever known.

Your voice; so gentle, so serene,

As soft as feather-light touches

Skittering across my skin.

And your eyes, oh your eyes,

You...

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In 2003, when my returned-love found my name on the net after 28 years, the computer was both my friend and my enemy, forming a safe barrier to hide behind until I found the courage to step into love again. Computer Messenger… Banter that backfired because literal interpretations got lost in considered connotations, (re-read a thousand times) of what went way-back-when… Juxtaposi...

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Refugee

 

Like a butterfly

I am caught

between the fly-screen

and glass door

 

through a veil of tears

I see freedom

but cling to the bars

and want more…

 

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2005

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Another one from my 'Sketching in Ireland' while Exploring Possibilities manuscript.

 

Vacuuming

 

With every pull toward your body

you expect obedience.

Expect each tiny micron of dirt

to be sucked up and away –

captured.  Tied

neatly in a disposable bag

then tossed out with the rubbish.

 

Controlled.  Dealt with, put out.

Never mind – away – forget.

 

...

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