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Archive for February, 2016

…you’re not really.

There are millions, just like you who either don’t acknowledge this day as anything to do with ‘love’ or find themselves alone either by choice or by circumstance.

So no – you’re not alone.

And if you feel you need a greeting – say ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ to yourself.

Take all those images, sayings and special touches applied to this day – turn them around to face you.

Take yourself out and do something that makes you feel wonderful – because you must be.

We are all worthy of a celebration every day of the year – not just today.

I’ve seen all of these movies and couldn’t resist sharing these quotes because I know, if you want love it will find you… eventually – if you let it.

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Committed Skin

I crave committed

skin.  Pale, pink tones

of a fragile heart.

Silky strands tantalize.

 

Forest of words

– thoughts, forcing

forward movement

careful continuation of

 

soft, subtle actions.

Reassurances

given, refusing

to provide any more until…

 

absolutely sure,

when our surfaces

eventually meet

– rub together in love-making,

 

no other skin will suit.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

1st pub: ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ MMB Publishing, Ireland, 2003.

 

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #HappyValentinesDay  #ToTheLonely  #IfYou’reAlone #POEM:CommittedSkin  #CommittedSkin

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Dear Love Doubters,

I once dreaded Valentine’s Day so much I wrote a scathing article about it.  Then I changed my mind and wrote another one in 2005:

I now believe love can happen at any age.

Yes, I admit I was a doubter for a long, long time and hated – even dreaded Valentine’s Day thinking I’d used up all my chances when I was young and that being older meant love and romance shouldn’t be on my wish list… so it wasn’t!

Well, I am here to prove to you all that it still should be.  I am 54 and have just found romance again.  I’m not slim, rich or famous but I am in love!

I’ve finally married the man I was in love with (in Africa) and ran away from to Australia, 30 years ago.  

In Ireland, he found my name quite by accident (on the net), contacted me,  and although continents divided us, proceeded to systematically smash down my not-inconsiderable barriers.  He deleted all my negatives; wooed me with words, romance, flowers and finally, convinced me to try love again.

Our love story began in 1974.  I was 23 and living in Zambia, I fell madly in love with an Irish rock-n-roller who wasn’t quite ready for me.  Broken-hearted and determined to get as far away as possible, I caught a plane to Western Australia and wallowed in poetry. 

I met and just weeks later married a bronzed Aussie on (wait for it) Valentine’s Day – 14th February 1975, saw him through Uni, produced two beautiful children and divorced in the 80’s.  From then on I hated Valentine’s Day.

But I worked hard at any job I could get, loved my kids and kept busy and distracted from my divorcee label with part-time courses and community work.  I thoroughly enjoyed being in charge of me and secretly kept writing, even wrote a novel but never had the courage to let anyone see it.

Until 1998, I always treated writing as a side dish and love was never on the menu. I couldn’t even write about romance except to say that I dreaded all the hype of Valentine’s Day.  I didn’t want or expect romance in my life.

After seeing both my children through University, they left home happily stepping in their own living-dreams directions.  The empty nest loomed large. There was just me – only me to concentrate on.  So I threw away the safe cocoon of full-time Bank employment. 

At the age of 48 I took casual jobs and began my dream – a full-time degree in creative writing at University.  Surrounded by clever young things used to study, it was very hard. Not the writing – never the writing; but paying bills – you learn never to waste precious sheets of paper again.

But I didn’t give up – I kept going because my kids were so proud of me.  Romance still wasn’t necessary.  I was way too busy with myself to spend any time on or with anyone else. I didn’t recognise that I was busy romancing myself.    

After graduation I was taking my first tentative steps into a new writing career; it was January 2002.  My Irish rock-n-roller recognised my name on the net  – a million-to-one chance!  Both now over 50, he lived in Ireland and I was in Australia, neither of us looking for each other or love.

To prove the point, I sent him a scathing magazine article I had written filled with the hate of romantic hype.  Undeterred on Valentine’s Day he asked if I was accepting Valentines from old boyfriends and my still-youthful heart zinged, surprisingly pierced well and truly by Cupid’s arrow.  I was a terrified cliché! 

Three screamingly silent days later I admitted; “I have always believed that if I ever found my ideal love – a complete acceptance of all that I am; absolute loyalty, unconditional support, encouragement and equality, from someone who would accept and expect nothing less than the same from me… then also mix in intellect, curiosity, humour and chemistry… I WOULD GRAB LOVE – with both hands and never let go!

But I would have to be sure that it was real and not another illusion. An illusion created by my own idealistic and romantic pedestal-placing heart, projected onto a smooth talker; a charming, talented, kind and careful person who has lovely manners, is courteous and doesn’t want to hurt me… I’ve done that before and it didn’t work out!”

Phone lines and emails ran hot for six months between Ireland and Australia, while we explored the possibility of romance and dealt with doubts from both sides.

“I’m not your 23 year old with a ‘girl next door’ look, anymore… I’m over fifty and although I present well socially, once the wrapping is removed… It’s not that I don’t want to consider the possibility and I admit; since the surprising thought hit me, I have spent a lot of time completely distracted by that. But I don’t think I’m ready – I’m not a tease (I’m talking about actions, not flirty words) and can’t promise what I can’t deliver… this is all new…”

He climbed aboard his silver charger, brandished words with conviction, clothed in romance and arrived in Perth. Thirty years melted away when he touched me.  We married last year, surrounded by family and yachts.  I am in love again AND living my dream to write full-time! 

Recently I was asked to write a poem for a wedding.  Three years ago I couldn’t have written any poem about romantic love. Thankfully, my Irish rock-n-roller proved me very wrong. 

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2005

OURwedSHOWreelORIG (131)w

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #UnchainedMelody  #Valentine’sDay  #ForeverLove  #LoveDoubters  #LoveRomance

 

 

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Congratulations on all counts, Charlotte!

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STORIES ON STAGE 2016

Looks interesting…

Write Note Reviews

Stories on Stage 2015 at Koorliny Arts Centre is about to get under way in Perth’s southern suburbs, with writers Susan Midalia and Laurie Steed kicking off a year of book-ish events on March 16. They be discussing the art of writing short stories as well as reading from their own works. I’ve just read Susan’s Feet to the Stars and it’s finely crafted and beautiful reading. Laurie, is someone I’ve come to admire through workshops, in which he shares his knowledge with writers of diverse experience. As someone who is working on her own novel, as well as a number of short stories, I am really looking forward to this event, as much for me as everyone else!

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For those who don’t know, Stories on Stage is held five to six times a year. I created the event in 2012, as much from a desire to share my love of books, as one…

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Beyond ConTact

Ha-Ha-Ha!

Nick Earls

I used to think contacting books – the application of a sticky sheet of protective plastic – was a punishment parents put themselves through, but now I realise it’s the school. It’s the system. And I’ve just faced it for the first time. I’ve just had my first wrestle with the giant sticky multi-limbed heartless beast that is contacting schoolbooks and, since it’s possible others didn’t make it out the other side, I’m reporting in.

We were told at the parent information night on Thursday that it’s to make sure labels on the front of the book stay stuck on properly. Heard that yourself, have you? Apparently that’s often how it starts, but don’t be fooled. If it’s the case, why not just stick them on properly in the first place? Why slap a label on in some dodgy way to start with, then require someone else to do something…

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