Poems for World Poetry Day

My (current) ten favourite poems for World Poetry Day 2016:

1. “Don’t make me fall in love again…” by Nan Witcomb © 1979, from ‘Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow, The Thoughts of Nanushka, Vol I – VI’.  I discovered Nan in the early  80’s when I needed to find solace in words and simply beautiful illustrations.  Soaked with romance, this poem resonated – seemed to speak from my own heart.
2. “The Dolly on the Dustcart”  by Pam Ayres © I’ve loved this poem since I first read it, even before I watched her perform it at the Perth Concert Hall in the early 90’s.  It was hard to choose just one of her poems (I have a few of her books) this one makes me smile with its many layers.
3. “Fascination Waltz” by T.A.G. Hungerford © 2005 p. 223, ‘Whatever Happened to Joseph’, 1st pub by Jacobyte Books.  Tom most graciously allowed me to spend an afternoon with him, talking about his writing while a full Pages Cafe/Poets Corner audience listened to him reading his wonderful words.  He told us about this being his wife’s favourite, so Kevin Gillam kindly played the song on his double bass for Tom – I know he was touched.
4. “Honey” by Gerry Murphy © 2002  P. 14, ‘Torso of an Ex-Girlfriend’, Dedalus Press.  I met Gerry whilst attending workshops at Munster Literature Centre in Cork, Ireland and instantly connected with his searingly honest, concise poetry.  No fluff. 🙂
5. “As Autumn Leaves”  by Bee © 2014 on ABC Tales.  Such a close examination of feelings and beauty – micro writing, which like many well-woven words, has stayed with me.
6. “Making Tracks” by Gregory O’Donohue © 2001, p.59, ‘Making Tracks’, Dedalus Press.  This man was an absolute inspiration.  He read and considered my work with great experience and knowledge, so every critique was harsh but helpful.  This poem is sad but then, he often seemed to be…
7. “Wounded Leopard” by Harry Farrell © 1968 from ‘Copper Dust & Other Gleamings’, self-published in Northern Rhodesia.  I met Harry in Africa in 1971 and tried to buy a copy of his book but he had sold all he’d printed.  So he lent me one to copy, for my own enjoyment.  I still have and treasure the original, typed on an old Olivetti.  Africa comes alive for me, through his poetry.
8. “Fifth of November” by Esther Morgan © 2001, from ‘Beyond Calling Distance’, Bloodaxe Books.  Glen Phillips introduced Esther to my class at Edith Cowan University and I’ve been a fan ever since.  She was good enough to edit a series of poems I wrote in Ireland, while based at UEA and editor of ‘Reactions’ New Poetry;  three journals of which I still read.
9.  “Just for Raema” by Glen Phillips, © 2005.  This poem was sent to me privately.  It spoke to my heart of pain and loss – but never ’emptiness’.
10. “No Bowl Of Cherries” by Silver Spun Sand  a.k.a. Christine Ann Chatworthy © 2012 on ABC Tales.  Seems a very suitable poem to end this list on… all about life and the cherries thrown at us.

I can’t believe how difficult it was to list just 10 favourite poems, I know there are so many more!

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde   #WorldPoetryDay2016   #NanWhitcomb  #PamAyres  #TAGHungerford  #GerryMurphy   #ABCTales:Bee  #GregoryO’Donohue  #HarryFarrell  #EstherMorgan  #GlenPhillips  #ABCTales:SilverSpunSand  #Begorrathon16   #Poems  #Poetry  #Word-weaving  #Top10FavPoems  #MunsterLiteratureCentre

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Poetry Challenge No 1.

Has anyone else found scissors inspiring?  Never thought I would but as my favourite Professor said, the scissors chose me – I didn’t choose the scissors.  Very Zen.

To encourage you, here are the first & final versions of a poem written after 10 minutes of  Scissor contemplation & manipulation…

1st Version:

Cutting into my life.
Sharp edges that define.
Cruel severance.
Pointed.
Cold steel ‘ shiny, hard, distant.

Cream/grey plastic
warm, smooth, closer.

Why is?
Unnatural – closer?
Cut/pain ‘ endings,
Death/severance ‘ no going back.
No return ‘ finality.

Blades slicing together
teamwork ‘ severance.
Teamwork – blades;

actually touching.
Wiltshire Staysharp,
a warning of actuality;

‘THIS IS WHAT I AM’

engraved,
scoured into the hard steel,
un-erasable,
undeniable.

Circular pivot – the turning point;
the axis of action.

Inspired by these original words – I linked them to my (then, 2002) romantic dilemma: a man I loved 28 years before, contacted me on the net in 2002 – only I’d  sworn never to be fooled by love again!

Shear Love

You sever my reason,

shape my feelings with your

steely blades of perception.

 

You use the twin edges

of measured analysis

and practical application,

 

to rotate on my axis of impatience,

 

defining our new existence

with that swinging efficiency

of open – closed action. 

 

You manipulate me

with metal precision,

held in a warm moulded grip.

 

My paper reality

waiting for words

that define an Us.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002

Here’s My Challenge: 

Get a group of writing friends together & tell them to bring something odd.  

If no friends willing, do it by yourself…  I still use this exercise to kick-start a writing session & have loads of bits and pieces on my study desk.

Pile the odds & ends in the centre of the table (or desk).  

With eyes closed, mix them up & hover a hand over them.  

Still keeping eyes closed, pick one thing & take 10 minutes to write about it.    

Please share your results in my comments – I’d love to read them.

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:ShearLove  #Poetry  #PoetryChallengeNo1  #WorkshopWriting  #Writing  #Poems  #PoetryPostcards  #FMF:PoetryPostcards

 

 

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Plough Prize

I was very proud to find my name, next to my poem ‘Left Field’ on the long list for The Plough Prize in 2007, discovered quite by accident years later.

So I can imagine how pleased Afric McGlinchey was, I’m sure just as thrilled, when her poem ‘A River of Familiars’ appeared in this year’s longlist.

I proudly own a copy of the E-book  “The Star of Hidden Things” published by Ireland’s foremost publisher of poetry; Salmon Poetry – a literal feast of magnificent word-obsession.

Like Afric McGlinchey, I was raised in a kinder Africa where, I felt loved and accepted and totally enfolded in the arms of my melting-pot community.

Her poems brought my African childhood back to me so clearly, I’m about to order her latest publication through Salmon Poetry; “Ghost of the Fisher Cat” which includes the Plough Prize longlisted poem, “A River of Familiars”.

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #PloughPoetryPrize  #POEM:LeftField   #AfricMcGlinchey  #SalmonPoetry  #ARiverOfFamiliars  #TheStarOfHiddenThings  #GhostOfTheFisherCat  #Africa  #Poems  #No1IrishPoetryPublisher #Begorrathon16 #IrishPoets

 

 

 

 

 

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If you’re alone…

…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.

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

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

 

 

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

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The Bluebird

The Bluebird © Australian Ballet’s “The Sleeping Beauty” 2015 (from Facebook page) Photo: Kate Longley

The Australian Ballet

Page Liked · September 20 ·

“The magic of the Bluebird … The Bluebird Pas de deux is one of the definitive moments of The Sleeping Beauty – there can be no Beauty without Bluebirds! Principal Artists Ako Kondo and Chengwu Guo dance this sensational pas de deux in The Sleeping Beauty!” Photography Kate Longley

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  Sue Forde Coughlan Always a favourite: of many favourites… may I share my ballet poem? The Prima Ballerina

  She lives in a world of fairy tales,
  all fantasy, happiness and woe.

  Floating across the stage in tulle,
  fine silk or organza.,

  softly pirouettes through the mist,
  or dies upon the snow.

  This is the world of Ballet
  of the Prima Ballerina.

  So lithe and slim, so beautiful,
  so graceful and serene.

  On stage, supremely untouchable
  yet so frail behind the scenes.

  She’s the Queen of the ‘Corps de Ballet’,
  the star with the golden feet,

  dancing her way through ‘Petruska’,
  ‘Swan Lake’ or the ‘Nutcracker Suite’.

  The audience, transfixed with awe,
  watch silently, as in a dream,

  for gripped by suspense and beauty
  – such as they’ve never seen!

  They observe the scenery so real,
  the superbly made costumes,

  but their eyes are fixed on the ‘Bluebird’
  and all it’s fine blue plumes.

  And when the ballet is done,
  And encore after encore taken.

  And baskets and bouquets
  of flowers dispensed….

  There’s a feeling of despair and longing
  at the end of such unforgettable enchantment.

  Frances Macaulay Forde © 1968

  Like · Reply · 7 · September 20 at 10:30am

#FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #AustralianBallet   #AB:SleepingBeauty   #TheBluebird  #Ballet  #Beauty  #POEM:ThePrimaBallerina

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Trust…No Love…Love.

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #PoetryPostcards  #Postcards  #Poems  #Cinquains  #ExploringPossibilities  #HiddenCapacity

 

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Color-gist

Color-gist

 

black and white

colored exposures

torn to pieces

carefully measured

 

moulded

miniature portraits

fruit thrown

into a large ceramic bowl

 

it was blue then

I found a bucket

without holes

poured hot water

and glue

 

something to bind

some lemon rind

for freshness

rose oil for fragrance

newly delicate and soft

 

stirred the pot

a witch’s brew

deliberately changing

my past and future of you

 

snowflakes of my tears

softened over

three days/years

 

stewed quietly

to mush

crushed

 

until I no longer

recognised

pieces of wedding,

parties anything

 

dresses I wore

to make myself more

beautiful for you

 

a fleeting betrayal

of a heart filled

with love

 

with lies

happiness arrows – spies

your other women

who were my friends

 

thorns on the rose of my myth

 

 

Frances Macaulay Forde @ 2003

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #POEM:Color-gist   #Romance  #Poems  #UnrequitedLove

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Five-O

Five-O

Fifty isn’t old.

It’s really just a number…

How did I get here?

I don’t remember saying

goodbye to so many…

I’m scared once I break it,

like the fifty-dollar note;

the years will disappear.

 

Frances Macaulay Forde  © 2000

(Poem No 5, ‘Return of Rainbows’; “Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey”; 1st published Cork, Ireland, 2003.)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:ReturnOfRainbows  #POEM:Five-O  #Poetry    #BookOfPoems

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Exile

Exile

 

Colour my life with rainbow hues

happiness yellow,

warm pinks,

cool, distant blues

and the green of Ireland.

 

I miss you in my life.

 

I want to touch your skin.

I want to make you  smile

make your eyes twinkle

with lust – amusement

at my clever words

 

and electronic kisses…

 

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2002

(Poem No 30 in ‘Exploring Possibilities…’ section of ‘Hidden Capacity ~ a poet’s journey’, by Frances Macaulay Forde, 1st published in Cork, Ireland, 2003.)

 

@FrancesMForde  #FrancesMacForde  #BOOK:HiddenCapacity  #POEM:Exile   #ExploringPossibilities  #WrittenInIreland  #LovePoems  #Romance

 

 

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100 years of ANZACS

“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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