Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 16

LIMPING BACK TOWARDS FUNKY TOWN

My funky has been in bed with my aching body for a while,

and they are not exactly making wonderful music together.

All I’m getting is a laborious, sleepy, quivering violin duet

That needs way more practice in the art of Lamentoso.

Lamentosamente, now one of them (guess who) has a black eye, too...

 

Allegro? Non troppo. Forse domani...

It’s nothing much, just a nasty mole that had to come off, but it was right next to my eye, right in the corner, and this morning it really hurt! I had to sit down afterwards and eat chocolate (yay!) and drink sugar water because I was very shaky for some time.

THE ANSWER IS NOT ALWAYS YOGA

The answer to all ailments is not yoga.

Nor is it magnesium.

Or bone broth.

Or the B’s.

It’s certainly not a kick in the butt.

Sometimes nobody knows.

Although, admittedly, I did write this in corpse pose…

MOON BOOTS

Locked in a vice of exhaustion,

My blood throbs,

My veins host insane bungie jumpers determined to escape gravity.

I stagger, a drunk astronaut in Moon Boots.

Bedtime, again.

POOR BERT: A FUNNY AND RUDE LIMERICK

 

Bert’s rumbunctious intestinal nightlife

Seriously hindered his quest for a nice wife.

Trumpets and trombones overwhelmed his cologne

Somewhat complicating his sex life.

 

LET THEM EAT CHOCOLATE BUNNIES

If all the Mega Bad Guys give up Badness

For Lent,

Maybe by the time Easter rolled around

And they wanted their Badness back,

We could have been sneaky enough to have confiscated

All their Evil Clusterfucks and vapourised them

Like dangerous luggage.

 

And then the Mega Bad Guys would all be lumbering around

On Easter Sunday,

Looking for trouble,

But they’d only find Chocolate Bunnies.

 

 

THE SECRET TO ETERNAL CONFIDENCE

You need this,Said the wizard, waving an assortment of makeup brushesAnd guiding meTowards a seat before a mirrorIn the beauty zone/danger zoneOf the pharmacy.Oh, I said, meekly,My obedience surging In a sudden weird need for beautification.So, I sat,Surrounded by elegantly packaged dreams,And the wizard flewBack and forth between meAnd a fancy Japanese makeup brandOn his magic makeup brushes,Returning each time to dab my face with Yet another Secret to Eternal Confidence.Voilà! he said, preening at himself in the mirror.So, I peered at myself,Wondering whether this might finally beTHE FOUNDATION,The one that takes a decade (or two?) off my many decades,And has the staying power ofMy parents’ marriage.Bonus points for fixing every single one of my problems.I shall keep you posted!

My poetry book, ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN, will be out sometime in late April!

SLEEPLOGGED

I felt underwater. But it wasn’t turquoise water, sadly…

There are days when putting away breakfast,And taking a shower is an heroic act.(Washed your hair? Superhero!)Afterwards, even as you try to rally,Attempt to read a book, Or simply enjoy the gorgeous view on a gorgeous day,Your body just bleeds fatigue,Thoroughly sleeplogged.So you crawl back beneath the duvet.Today, I am having one of those days.

SLOSH-SLURRED IN ALPHABET SOUP

(I THINK THIS IS MY NEW SPIRIT ANIMAL)

There is a warm, drunken element in waking from my afternoon fibro-naps, my brain and body slosh-slurred in thick alphabet soup, emerging but not quite, reaching for fog-drenched sentences, then free falling again. The stoner-struggle is otherworldly delicious.

RUDE MAN WITH CIGAR

There is something off about the acrid smell of a cigar

Contaminating the peaceful fresh, sunshiny air of peoples’ cappuccinos on a busy mountain terrace.

Also, the smoker, tanned the same colour as his stinker, exudes that wallop-worthy air of worldly entitlement.

This is definitely not his first anti-social misdemeanor.

Verdict : Rude!

THE MORNING AFTER

The sun rose once again,

Ignoring the dark clouds

Lounging all over the white mountains

Like obese, loud-mouthed bullies in ill-fitting suits.

The Alps had seen it all before,

Knew the sun would dissolve the squatters

And their bad attitude

With a quick sparkle of golden truths.

 

And sure enough,

The losers skedaddled,

Leaving the white peaks to glisten

In the sunshine.

Meanwhile, outside my window,

A bevvy of birds celebrates yet another morning miracle

By skipping between split coconuts

Filled with the best things in life.