Poetry Blog by Frances Macaulay Forde

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Adam Rabinowitz on I am Love (Updated) (14 days ago)

Frances Macaulay Forde on I am Love (Updated) (Tue, 29 Oct 2019 01:15 am)

Jon on I am Love (Updated) (Mon, 28 Oct 2019 02:58 pm)

Jason Bayliss on I am Love (Updated) (Tue, 17 Sep 2019 10:34 am)

Frances Macaulay Forde on I am love. (Sun, 15 Sep 2019 07:32 pm)

David Redfield on I am love. (Tue, 23 Jul 2019 03:33 pm)

Jason Bayliss on In my African childhood (Sat, 6 Jul 2019 06:36 pm)

Frances Macaulay Forde on In my African childhood (Fri, 31 May 2019 01:51 am)

jennifer Malden on In my African childhood (Wed, 29 May 2019 04:24 pm)

Martin Elder on In my African childhood (Wed, 29 May 2019 11:03 am)

I am Love (Updated)

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Thank you to all those who liked or commented my previous posting of 'I am Love'.  


I found an old recording of the poem, so thought I would add it to the original page but it didn't work. 

So I am posting it here.  However, you may have to turn up the sound.


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In my African childhood

Today, I was inspired by Rick with his piece 'Old Time Religion'.


In my African childhood.


We lived next door to a ‘church’, 

could hear their fervent chest-beating,

shouting at all times of the day and night. 

So could our prize-winning show-dog.


A Beagle barking continuously

can be annoying... but not enough

to warrant throwing an axe

hitting and choppin...

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Why do I now prefer writing in my bedroom?

when I have a perfectly good study

- a space cleared for thought?


I feel inspired to dream while I’m awake in here

- not there. Is it because I’ve just coated

the room and everything in it, a lilac pink? 


Is that the colour of my inspiration?      ...

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InspirationMother's Lovepoem

Vancouver Haiku


Clouds growl as

red spiders walk

into the lion's mouth.



Frances Macaulay Forde © 2004

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I am love.

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Like dust, in the brightest moments of your life

you will see me, know I am here, but most of the time

forget that you are surrounded by this great love

until I pile myself onto the surfaces of your life

and obscure the view ~ stop you seeing clearly

for I will blind you with love.


You cannot hide from me and I will not hide from you.

I have stopped searching. I’ve finall...

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Love poemromancewedding vows

Renovations 1

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My house was loud

full of exciting colour,

noise of entertaining

voices gathered frequently.


Fancy dress partners

danced in yellow & purple

creative spaces where words

poured like leaking taps.


Suddenly it needs a facelift,

a new skin – beige blandness

to allow for another, writing

their personality on a clean slate.


No distracting touches of bril...

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making beigemoving inmoving outpoemremoving colourrenovations

Red Lipstick

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Please note:  this is a re-post in honour of St Paddy's Day! (Photos taken of Yeats statue in Sligo town.)


Red Lipstick


Standing in reverence of a mighty giant

his Nobel words remembered, this fan notes


exaggerated bat-like shoulders enhance his

thoughtful gaze - watching the Horseman?


Others have stepped up on Galway stone; held

those long, thin legs as th...

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Smooth Skin

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Smooth Skin


Off Old Cork road, as you turn into Midleton, rest

stacks of  life-saving re-treads.  They wait, un-like us

who have ‘Buckley’s Chance’ of reliving their youth.


The largest lay prepared, size neatly stacked,

image-ready, resigned, proudly age un-marked

claiming their fair share of the dumping ground.


Smaller circles know their corporate place, are th...

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agedcar tyresholocausthumanitypoemskinyouth

Breakfast at Garfunkle’s

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Breakfast at Garfunkle’s

(Written at Heathrow Airport, 2002, while waiting for a flight to Cork.)


blond body-perfect She

corporate black/gray

casually draped label scarf

highlight-streaked hair

carelessly wrapped

tortoiseshell teeth caught

erect bangs to flick

display interest


mobile-phone laugh

every second pause

pouted poised use

office eyes and m...

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Heathrow 2002Poemromancetongue in cheekUSA vs IraqWar on Terror

Lesson No 65

Lesson No 65

(Written in response to a poem by Prof Glen Phillips.)


See, diamonds are hard

as everyone knows,

a girl must have metal

for this century’s woes.


Getting her rocks off

whether blond, red or brunette

no faking, no waiting – Helen,

woman hasn’t peaked yet.


While gentlemen play with image

cream blondes, brunettes achieve.

Red wears stain...

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International Women's WeekpoemProf Glen Phillipsresponse

International Women's Week

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International Women’s Week


Every year without fail

I receive a postcard

in recognition.


Although it’s thoughtful

and timely I don’t

need the reminder.


My mother raised a daughter

to believe in herself

treasure her value.


And I do. I don’t judge

by gender. My priority

Is always kindness.


How honest can you be

adjudicating on what’s 


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I hear my world better

when there are no words


closed library eyes see

eddying images churn

before being controlled

writing a new narrative


it’s kind of safer than

letting reality intrude


chapters repositioned

shaded recollections

able-body paradigm

altered to glimmer


requiring the world to

turn on my direction



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Leaves drift caught in sun

shafts shimmer gold as silver

gifts splash outstretched hand

water spheres hurled from

nebulous grey clouds above

swirling winds tease memories


Frances Macaulay Forde © 2010

(Written to artwork in Raincheck Exhibition by Jessica McCallum in 2010.)

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Wardrobe Mistress - '85

Wardrobe Mistress - '85


I stood in front

of the wardrobe

we shared

and stared.


I had just seen her

with overalls down

below her knees,


your familiar

bare bum



Its thrusting

only previously seen

in awkward twisting



Your shirts and tees

hang between

pink and lime,

purple & olives,


shady gre...

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anniversaryapparellovemistresspoemValentine's Day

Cockatoo Chorus (Poetry for Schools)

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            (Submitted for Marsden Poetry for Schools project.)


            “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 h...

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Black CockatoosPoempoems for children.Poetry for Schools

Play me...

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Play me...


I am

so hungry

for music,

my lips crave

the taste of

your skin,

body wants

to spend forever

as your piano. 



Frances Macaulay Forde ©  2003

(Published in 'Love', Perth WA, 2012.)

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bookfast romancelovepianoplay mepoem

Yellow Daze

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Yellow Daze


Driving through Toodyay

in late August before

Spring arrives officially

yellow makes me smile.


Broome just opening

dotted with hives

flavouring the honey

and signs: ‘Beware Bees’.


Field undulating through

hills, no straight lines sewn

to follow dips, valleys,

creeks and around trees.


Canola makes me smile.

In fields waiting ...

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I remember...

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I remember...


legs climbing

over benches

sawdust puffs


bottom bumps

animal smells

lollipops & candy

floppy clowns,


painted smiles

striped pant stilts

tall feathers on

horses circling


dancing tutu dogs

distant lion’s roar

monkey chatter

clattering cages

grey wrinkled skin

ground shaking

elephants landing

colours flying


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Artist:JessicaMcCallumArtIsTheSparkpoemPOEM:I remember...

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