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Archive for April, 2015

50-designs-with-50-pieces-of-lego

Photo Source here.

Marisa Wikramanayake  : “I’m a journalist, a writer and an editor. Well, actually, I write novels and attempt to survive doing so by having adventures and being a journalist and an editor.”

Take a look at her website where, among many interesting postings, most recently she has started doing videologs in support of Australian Women Writers.  I’ve just watched Robin Bowers’ interview.

This poem was posted on Facebook today and I loved it. (Naturally, I asked permission to post it here.)

Were you to break me down into my constituent parts,
Bit by bit,
Build me back up again with IKEA instructions but perfectly,
(I will give you an Allen key),
With each Lego piece in its spot,
Bit by bit,
There would be no place for love.

Oh, there would be a tinkertoy space here, some engine that whirled around,
That makes me good at all the grand gestures,
That would let me let you go if you were happier without me,
Without me blinking,
Because you are made of flesh and nerve endings that will hurt,
But I am made of blocks that can be broken down and rebuilt,
Bit by bit.
So I can withstand it.

But there is the space you would find surrounded by the Fabuland set,
That would be that space that doesn’t quite work,
Perhaps they discontinued that line a long time ago,
Bit by bit,
But it’s the space that makes me wake you,
At three am because I want to talk,
Makes me since I am a brick,
Quite selfish and quite thick,
No good at the small important everyday love,
Ever feeling that my part in any duo would not be enough,
It’s the space that will make me leave you behind,
While I chase things that intrigue my mind,
Where I will stand wondering why I am not the one to be in your part when I know how a gendered romance should go,
That openly states when and how I feel,
Because no one who hears believes it’s real.
It’s the space in me that makes me stubborn,
Want to break down your walls and lay you open.
Bit by bit,
To dissect you, pull you apart so I know how you work,
So I can love you the way you deserve.

And you deserve different, flesh and blood with nerve endings and all,
Not something, half real, built of bricks prone to break apart and fall.
I have built myself up to work like a machine.
Over the years,
Bit by bit,
For maternal, fraternal love,
For grand gestures because I can’t protect you enough,
But not at all adequately for the small love on which you’re keen.

– Marisa Wikramanayake, (c) 2015

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #MarisaWikramanayake   #GuestPoem   #WAWriters  #Community   #FavWriters  #Love  #Poetry  #RobinBowers

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1985WannerooFolkClub8 003W

Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

While blogging about McDaid’s Folk Club I realized that the Wanneroo Folk Club, which I established way back in 1985 will be having it’s 30th anniversary soon!

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Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

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Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

In it’s 2nd year, I handed over the reigns to the rest of the committee , in particular Judith Shaw and Bob Rummary, who have done an amazing job of keeping the club going for nearly 30 years.

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Bob Rummary from Loaded Dog  (left) and Judith Shaw ran the club for many years.  Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

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Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

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Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

In 1985, David Milroy  was new to sharing his music as an original member of Wanneroo Folk Club. Now he’s very much a celebrated and awarded songwriter, performer, director and writer whose plays regularly tour Australia.

My now grown up daughter and I watched him perform in his musical  ‘Waltzing the Wilerra’  not long ago and were completely blown away!

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Original committee member, David Milroy.  Frances Macaulay Forde © 1985

I believe John Ralph as a member of the WA Folk Federation, has now taken over the running of events but continues in the same vein.

Congratulations to them all.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #WannerooFolkClub  #DavidMilroy  #FolkMusic  #Community  #WaltzingTheWilarra

 

 

 

 

 

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@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:BeachBabe  #Poetry  #Postcards  #Love

#Romance

 

 

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All Washed Up

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Cling to the plate rack of pine

Empty and turned to the tiles

Waiting for a water ball

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

No purpose for us to observe

Sadly exhibiting usage both

Hear the dishwasher call

 

Two rubber gloves hang discarded

Colours faded and fingers worn

One springs a hole in the thumb

Its partner hears the bin fall

 

One rubber glove hangs discarded

Pale and lonely for its pigeon pair

Lost in the drain of life’s chaos

Single; no purpose at all

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:AllWashedUp  #Humorous  #Poems  #Ageism

 

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“Last Post” Dawn Service, Perth.

 

A hundred years ago, they walked away.

They smiled goodbye, we smiled and waved.

How could we know where their fate lay.

 

So proud to serve, they followed orders,

macho back-slapping excited shoulders,

thousands of potential lambs to slaughter.

 

Still we send our bravest to answer the call,

counting the cost on Anzac Day with poppy walls.

A hundred years later have we learned at all?

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2015

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #100YearsANZACS   #AnzacDay  #Poem

 

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Image---Umbrella-Concept-Panel7

Concept drawing from ‘Raincheck’ Exhibition © Jessica McCallum 2010.

Umbrella Sea

I look down

umbrella sea

snaking between

shiny metal towers

separate

still me

 

a strong wind

searching for red

among the grey

pushing risk

frisking

steering

toward decision

 

do I leap

air-dance Nike-like

raindrop  steps

merge the blue  

sky-reach

take a chance

with you

 

I am Luke

sky walker

sweet talker

calculated

risk taker

love maker

 

potential heart beaker

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2010

#FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:UmbrellaSea  #ARTIST:JessicaMcCallum  #EXHIB:Raincheck  #Poem  #Umbrella  #Love  #Heartbreak

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Remembering my fun times at university and it’s true – I truly couldn’t have done it without all the encouragement.

Perth Words... exploring possibilities.

For my 50th birthday I wanted a university degree in creative writing, something I’d done all my life but never formally acknowledged.  A new course was launched at Edith Cowan University which seemed tailor-made for me.

When I applied I didn’t really expect to be accepted because I had left school early in the mid-sixties and sat an entrance exam which I was sure I’d fluffed by going off at a tangent (as usual).

But no, to my continued amazement I was accepted and made my trepidatious way to class surrounded by clever youngsters, fully expecting to be left far behind.

The Return of Rainbows

Driving down Alexander,

(early morning rush hour)

lecture on documentary film.

Eager for knowledge, I noted

low, broad bands of color

spanning the sky above Uni.

Ignoring the grey clouds,

I welcomed the return

of rainbows to my life

Frances Macaulay Forde © 1999

2002Graduation Leonie & Sue Friend Leonie and…

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