Poetry Blog by Frances Macaulay Forde (2019)
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...
Wednesday 29th May 2019 4:43 am
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? ...
Tuesday 23rd April 2019 2:49 am
Clouds growl as
red spiders walk
into the lion's mouth.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2004
Monday 15th April 2019 5:10 pm
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...
Sunday 14th April 2019 7:10 am
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...
Saturday 13th April 2019 4:25 am
Please note: this is a re-post in honour of St Paddy's Day! (Photos taken of Yeats statue in Sligo town.)
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...
Sunday 17th March 2019 10:37 am
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...
Saturday 16th March 2019 1:34 am
Breakfast at Garfunkle’s
(Written at Heathrow Airport, 2002, while waiting for a flight to Cork.)
blond body-perfect She
casually draped label scarf
tortoiseshell teeth caught
erect bangs to flick
every second pause
pouted poised use
office eyes and m...
Saturday 9th March 2019 11:53 am
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...
Thursday 7th March 2019 3:53 am
International Women’s Week
Every year without fail
I receive a postcard
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...
Sunday 3rd March 2019 2:05 am
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
altered to glimmer
requiring the world to
turn on my direction
Friday 22nd February 2019 12:05 am
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.)
Sunday 17th February 2019 3:16 am
Wardrobe Mistress - '85
I stood in front
of the wardrobe
I had just seen her
with overalls down
below her knees,
only previously seen
in awkward twisting
Your shirts and tees
pink and lime,
purple & olives,
Sunday 10th February 2019 9:50 am
(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...
Wednesday 6th February 2019 3:32 am
my lips crave
the taste of
to spend forever
as your piano.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
(Published in 'Love', Perth WA, 2012.)
Monday 4th February 2019 3:26 pm
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 ...
Monday 4th February 2019 4:50 am
lollipops & candy
striped pant stilts
tall feathers on
dancing tutu dogs
distant lion’s roar
grey wrinkled skin
Friday 25th January 2019 1:01 am