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Midleton Main St2

In Ireland with my newly returned love we lived in Midleton, a little village 25 km from Cork City.

He enjoyed showing me around his home of only a few years – but the new home of his heart.

Chatting about the ‘mysteries’ of writing poetry, we’d driven into Robinson’s Tyres yard, littered with used product.

I’d just finished saying I never suffered from writers block and could do a poem about anything.  He pointed and challenged me to write about ‘Those’.

So while he organised for a change of Tyre, I wrote about them:

 

Smooth Skin

 

Off Old Cork road, turning into Midleton

stacks of life-saving re-treads have Buckley’s

chance of reliving their youth. Discarded tyres

 

lay stop-piled high; like Auschwitz bodies

deflated, black, aged-old wheel-rings have

reached the end and their final journey.

 

Unlined rubber circles, low profile cushions

await disposal; melting erasure – incineration.

Their job is complete – no longer needed.

 

The largest lay prepared, neatly size-stacked,

ready and resigned, proudly age un-marked

claiming their fair share of the dumping ground.

 

Smaller circles know their place, are thrown

haphazardly because they’ve lost their grip;

swallowed by take-over tyrants, larger than they are.

 

Tractor workhorses are content to rest, miles-tired,

worn out, knowing they don’t count because the speedy

don’t care – don’t notice how many lines are missing.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2003

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Book 2 in my Short Stories series is “E-Males”   Meet ‘Anna Karenina’ of the Australian suburbs:

After seven years of marriage, Michelle began to question her love ~ not her husband Barry’s ~ his adoration was as solid and steady as a rock.  No, she questioned her state. 

Was this all she could expect?  She yearned for more  ~ or perhaps a different ethereal mist of feeling which engulfs like a warm blanket of bright colours, flapping every now and then in the breeze of life. 

“Damn those blasted fairy tales! Where’s my prince?  Why doesn’t Barry come home in the middle of the day and whisk me off to Paris for coffee?” 

She day-dreams he’s sitting in his high rise office, gazing out across the Swan River, thinking of her in a flowing white peignoir, hair carefully styled, just risen from their marriage bed to meet her love. 

Full lips ready to receive his kiss, his embrace strong but gentle he smiles down at her, with one arm to support her swooning, body trembling with unspoken ardor. 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2014

If you’d care to read the rest, you’re welcome to buy or lend a KINDLE copy of  “E-Males”  or Book 1:  “Meeting Mr X”  directly from Amazon.

(Hope you do…)

 

#FrancesMacaulayForde  #McAlpineBellPublishing  #MeetingMrX  #KINDLEbooks  #E-Males”

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nest-9

I saw this photo by on the net and was immediately inspired:  nature + telephone pole = home.

(http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2013/02/massive-bird-nests-built-on-telephone-poles-in-southern-africa/ )

 

RECYCLED

Sociable weaver

birds gather Kalahari

sticks, grass, cotton to

construct home-trees for hundreds.

Out-dated rest-points built to

carry distance wires become

capsules recycled for

mobile families.

.

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2013

 

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12-x-12-new-badge

Official Participant in the Julie Hedlund 12 x 12 Picture Book Challenge

Soooo excited – I’ve signed up as a Golden Book Member of Julie Hedlund’s 12 month picture book challenge for 2014.

(I find I need deadlines to actually finish fiddling with manuscripts and let them go.)

There’s lots of support and encouragement from fellow participants – many who’re also members of SCWBI.

Julie offers the amazing chance to send a manuscript to an approved agent each month.

At the very least, I’ll have  quite a few new picture book ideas to hawk to local publishers at the end of the year!

 

SUZETTE THE SNAKE

 

Suzette the snake was swish.

                             She slithered with style

                                           and spoke with a lisp.

                                                          Her sensitive stomach

                                                                        seeks special cuisine,

                                                          especially cleaned

                                           in rivers and streams.

                             She swims in salt lakes

              with sensuous ease,

                             sleeps under shade trees,

                                           shivers out in the breeze.

                                                          Skin silvery bronze

                                                                        sun-yellow striped along.                                            

              Speeding through leaves

                                           she startles a feed.

                             Surely her sparkle

                                           and shimmering shape,

                                                          proves beauty is found

                                                                        in a slithering snake!

 

 

Frances Macaulay Forde @ 2001

From my 1st book of poems ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’ Published in Cork, Ireland, 2003.

So the gauntlet has been thrown and I must rise to the challenge.

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Following on from Friday’s post about Glen Phillips, I wanted to share a poem which was included in ‘Landscapes’ the journal of the International Centre for Landscape and Language at ECU.

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Moondyne Joe, the central character in the re-enactment.

The poem was written after we attended the Moondyne Festival, a re-enactment of the Moondyne Joe legend held every year in Toodyay.  

It’s an historic town in WA which had recently been devastated by bush-fires – far too often a feature of our landscape.

I was struck by the horrendous beauty as we drove through the area, illustrated by the aftermath of death and the brilliant resilience of nature.

Toodyay  

black ash still lay
where fire had licked
with devil tongues
across roadside gravel

a careless cigarette
city-slicker thrown
community fun day
re-enacting Moondyne Joe

quick fire prowled up
summer-dry gullies
stand of trees ridge
wind break – not fire-breaker

no escape allowed
as bright yellow jackets
smother white foam
contain the bush fire danger

gum tree pale striped
old bark peeled back
green growth beauty
black trees juxtaposed

fresh life canopies
halt dieback* spores
spiked hair sprouts
thousand years and counting

*Dieback is a fungal disease which decimates our native trees, reducing them to bare branches.

Frances Macaulay Forde  © 2011

Just another example of Glen supporting and encouraging my involvement in the WA writing community.

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14PaddyDOTMusic

So proud of my brother Paddy who’s just released his first album of original songs called “Avartarian Summer”

He’s also made a video with one of the soundtracks of our beautiful South West forest featuring one of our iconic birds, a Kookaburra!

Please let him know if you enjoy his sounds and pictures.

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I’m going to be off-line for a while as my computer needs some hospital treatment after I joined DropBox then decided to delete my account.  Before cancelling the account I deleted all the files for safety.

What I didn’t know was DropBox  deleted everything on ‘all my devices’ – my hard drive too!  BUGGER!

I’m just really hoping my computer guru/fixer can find them and restore everything again.  I’ve got most files & photos backed up but not since November – so all Chrissy photos and writing… Oh well.  Hopefully I’ll be back in a couple of days.

Thanks so much for reading my humble blog and have a good week.    Remember to back up often!

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