Pushing at Silence by Andrew Burke

$16.available from selected Bookstores and Mail Order from: Folio (Salt) PO Box 202 Applecross 6153 Western Australia (Please make cheques/money orders payable to the publisher, FOLIO (SALT) and allow 21 days for delivery within Australia.)

Or WHISPERING GALLERY by Andrew Burke by Sunline Press.

‘The Roof Milkers’ by Annamaria Weldon

Her forthcoming collection, to be published by Sunline Press in June (2008), spans three decades of poems and two homelands and will be launched at Poets Corner 19^th July 2008.

'Flash Company – Poems and fictions’ by Murray Jennings

Rrp: $19.00 available from: LANE BOOKS, Claremont, MILLPOINT CAFÉ BOOKSHOP, South Perth, and PLANET BOOKS, Mt Lawley OR from Murray Jennings P.O. Box 460 COMO W.A. 6152 Price $21.00 posted

'Book of Days' by Deanne Leber

Shortlisted for the 2006 Western Australian Premier's Book Awards.

An autobiographical journey into the ways we remember. It is emotionally violent, humorous and playful. It traces lines of narrative which have been disrupted by madness.

Available from  http://www.angelfire.com/de/dustdream/

Contact Frances for further details.

A Found Memory

Fossil: Dry. Smooth? Not smooth – rough.

Light! Weighs nothing. I move my finger

to slip over the top end and find smooth.

A clean cut. A harsh chopping off.



A crack has appeared. It’s old,

dirt-encrusted, making the fissure

stand out from the beige of light

and dark mottled skin.



This portion of dead twig has been displaced,

into my warm, clutching hand.

It is bowed, perhaps with the weight

of brilliant blossom in fertile times.

But with age and exile,

the object bears no hint of past profusion.

No scar of leaf or flower.

Only grooves in dry, brittle skin.



Viewed from the smooth top,

a solid golden core betrays its strength.

Marred by a red blemish - perfect oval,

tree blood showing the pain of dissection.



Where did you come from, my severed arm?

You stood in proud grandeur.

High, looking down on sheep

grazing green grounds beneath.



Your ghostly mother, her children

housing nests, hollows, where new life begins.

Waving in the sweeping wind. Bowing

to earth’s elements. Dressing for season’s ball.



A young boy climbed your sturdy limbs

seeking adventure, chasing the sun

to knock a parrot’s nest – not caring

about fragile eggs of new families.



You remind me of my mother.

Her honesty. Loveliness.

No frills - just lines of age.

Her purpose obvious. To bear fruit.



The golden core of subtle strength was always known.

The ability to bend when winds buffeted.

Fissures evidence damage – results of force

against will or ability. Life wasn’t always easy.



My mother has been gone for a long time now,

but hugging this piece of dry, light branch,

comforts me. The memories of mother.

The naturalness of her protection.



I remember her hands at the end. Dry,

mottled, beige and brown. Clutching

mine in death. Cold. The heat from my warmth

trying desperately to infuse life.



NOTE: Also on this page: http: //www.mmbpublishing.com/MothersDayPoems.html



Frances Macaulay Forde © 1998

My father was a Squadron Leader in the RAF, awarded a D.F.C and flew Lancaster bombers. 

My Uncle was a Captain of a British Navy Submarine, another lost both legs in the Second World War.

When my son was a Reservist in 2003, I was terrified the Australian Government would send him to Iraq. 

He would have been proud to go.

How brave a person must be to give their life in the service of others...  I am proud of them all.  

ANZAC Day

And we will remember them,

brave soldiers all



who raised the trumpet

and answered the call,



marched in straight lines

to the war, in tin hats.



How many, these days,

have the courage for that?



Can we take heed and listen,

learn lessons or care?

And never send our young people

to die 'over there'?

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2008