1974: When we were young…
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #POEM:ReUnion #PoeticSounds #ReadingPoetry #ExploringPossbilities #SketchingInIreland #Love&Romance #Poetry
Posted in Exploring Possibilities, Poetry, Readings of my Poems, Sketching In Ireland, Sounds, Writing, tagged ExploringPossibilties, Love, POEM:ReUnion, PoeticSounds, poetry, ReadingPoetry, romance, SketchingInIreland on May 20, 2016| Leave a Comment »
1974: When we were young…
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #POEM:ReUnion #PoeticSounds #ReadingPoetry #ExploringPossbilities #SketchingInIreland #Love&Romance #Poetry
Posted in Begorrathon, Books, Favorite Writers, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, Writers, Writing, tagged @FrancesMForde, FrancesMacaulayForde, FrancesMacForde, IrelandsPremierPoetryPress, IrishPoetry, JessieLendennie, poetry, PremierPoetryPress, SalmonPoetry, SalmonPress on January 11, 2016| Leave a Comment »
My friend Jessie Lendennie, the founder (31 years ago) and editor of Salmon Poetry – Ireland’s premier poetry press:
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #FrancesMacaulayForde #SalmonPoetry #SalmonPress #JessieLendennie #IrelandsPremierPoetryPress #PremierPoetryPress #IrishPoetry #Poetry
Posted in COMMUNITY, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged @FrancesMForde, FrancesMacaulayForde, FrancesMacForde, POEM:NumeroUno, poetry, SketchingInIreland on November 15, 2015| 3 Comments »
Numero Uno
Do you think
those who
always insist
on entering first,
ever open doors
for others,
offer help when
it isn’t needed
or look back ~
except to bask
in their own
reflection?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002
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Posted in Hidden Capacity, Ireland, Love, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, Sound, Sounds, Writing, tagged @FrancesMForde, BOOK:ExploringPossibilities, BOOK:HiddenCapacity, BOOK:SketchingInIreland, ExploringPossibilities, FrancesMacForde, HiddenCapacity, Ireland, Love, Poem, POEM:Senses, poetry, romance, Sensory, Sight, SketchingInIreland, Smells, Sound, Touch, WAWriter, writer, writing on September 21, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Senses
hear
tender words
questions answers
your current reality
see
furtive glance
visual dance
clever hands and fingers
touch
tentative press
to shy flesh
still clothed in other loves
smell
breathe you in
where’ve you been
through all my loves and life
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2007
From my book “Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey” published in Cork, Ireland, 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #POEM:Senses #Poem #Ireland #Romance #Love #ExploringPossibilities #HiddenCapacity #Poetry #Touch #Sight #Sound #Smells #Sensory #SketchingInIreland #WAWriter
Posted in COMMUNITY, Ireland, nature, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Co Cork, Ireland, POEM:TheFolly, Poems Written In Ireland, SketchingInIreland on May 1, 2015| 1 Comment »
The Folly
Gaeltacht – Irish-speaking area.
Teanga – living language, tongue.
My Gaeltacht friend explained ‘Ye should go t’ see the folly…’
So, like tourists, my man and I actually took a clear-day,
no rain so far drive. A determined scenic dalliance
in sunny sections flashing green and historical grey.
Eventually – with no clear direction, journeying
quite far out of our way… we appreciated the Anglo
interpretation on the road signs, because as foreigners,
we don’t speak the traditional language of Ireland.
Not wanting to barstardise or pronounce phonetically
in error, ‘so’. We enjoyed the lilt and musicality of her
tumbled, seemingly conscientious explanation – story-
telling at a 100 miles an hour. ‘Ah well ye know, ta
get t’da place dat ‘tis, you just go along dis
road, don’t ye know, ‘tis a sort of a wind-y road, den
up t’ hill, don’t ye know and dere’ll be a turn off t’
da right – de left would it be, no, ‘tis definitely
da right… but don’t you be going dat way, d’ye know
‘cos dat’ll get ye into all sorts a troubles, sure
t’ will and all…’ Pictograms pointing to a past not
forgotten although many have tried to suppress their
uniqueness… The soft emphasis or not. A language
echoed through 400 years… the charming emotional
push of Ireland. ‘So’, we go on death-defying strips
of beaten earth, slicing through fields, carelessly carving
up gently rising hills dotted with dwellings, puffing
grey smoke evidencing crisp cold air, we journeyed
on by-ways bordered by stones. Intrusion bands – neatly
trimmed piles of manual labour carefully selected and placed
one on top of the measured other… in spite of wars and cars,
surviving like the teanga, rebelliously, resolutely, knowingly
employed at home in private, upright and proud though sagging
in some areas, often bent by forces who moved on and forgot.
Those walls still exist in places – repaired now, to allow
journey. Showing a path around a sparkling gem waiting…
We chanced intrusion of some one’s private personal space,
a rutted homely driveway – questions of culture, seeking
an un-shy, proud demonstration of Celtic heritage. We
wanted a clearer vision of soulful insistence – difference.
A sculptural acknowledgment, including the heroic past,
clear evidence of resistance – of residence. The Folly!
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #POEM:TheFolly #SketchingInIreland #Poems #Co.Cork #Ireland
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, Ireland, poetry, TheMagicRoundabout on March 31, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Rush Hour Waltz
Blackbirds wheel
In evening skies
above Kindale’s
signalized
roundabout,
mimicking
warmed metal
motors idling
in similar circles
below.
Are they
as confused
about how
to get home
as we are?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Beggorathon2015 #Ireland #TheMagicRoundabout
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, Ireland, poems, WarPoems on March 30, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Baghdad Ballet
(March, 2003)
A young boy sits, on his mother’s shoulders,
smile-excited in the sunshine, taking part in a parade.
He proudly thrusts the finger-sign of peace.
Nice to see in an Iraqi child – family
bombardered by ‘Shock and Awe’ the night before,
forgiving.
But the visual is blitzed as it flashes onscreen,
by the plastic Sten gun held aloft,
background-brandished in the child’s other hand.
Do you think the young lad plays
in secret tunnels, knows where to hide,
where doubles walk to keep the myth alive,
the magic tricks to keep awake illusions
of a still-controlled-city.
Streetlights burn in defiance of invaders largesse.
Traffic moves through the night
while bright glows explode in distant thunder
and shower shrapnel as
we sit on green comfy sofas,
presumed warm and safe inside,
miles away watching the performance
on TV young Liam wears red and white,
holds his defiant hurly high – a warrior
enjoying the sunshine day parade
– a protest for peace in Shannon.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Begorathon2015 #Ireland #WarPoems #Poems
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Love, Poetry, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged IrishPoems, Love, PoemsWrittenInIreland, romance, SketchingInIreland on March 29, 2015| Leave a Comment »
With every pull toward your body
you expect obedience.
Expect each tiny micron of dirt
to be sucked up and away.
Look at the attention you give stairs…
How do I become like stairs?
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Beggorthon:2015 #SketchingInIreland #IrishPoems #PoemsWrittenInIreland #LovePoems #Romance
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Poetry, Sketching In Ireland, tagged Beggorathon2015, IrishPoems, SketchingInIreland on March 27, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Clare road repairs
On a hill, Celtic crosses and angels wings
gather. We approve the view, weed and go.
Suddenly, unattended in a quiet Irish lane,
Temporary traffic lights blink red.
Surrounded by green fields, we’re forced
to queue like country others, and reflect.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #Beggorathon2015 #IrishPoems #SketchingInIreland
Posted in Begorrathon, Ireland, Romance, Sketching In Ireland, Writing, tagged Beggorathon2015, LovePoems, romance, SketchingInIreland on March 24, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Furnishings
listening to shower
water rhythms
then silence as you
shave sans mirror
wafts of Gillette
down the stairs
zing straight to
my wanton womb
I mouth blues
chopping garlic
you appear saying
‘For some reason
I am suddenly starving!’
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003
@FrancesMForde #FrancesMacForde #LovePoems #Romance #SketchingInIreland #Beggorathon2015
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