Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 17

QUICK AND SILLY THREESOME

SNOOT

 

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

If the florist is closed

I suggest Jimmy Choo.

 

HOTTIE AT THE DOOR

 

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

I ate baked beans for dinner;

Wasn’t expecting you!

 

RUDE

 

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

You sneezed on my onions

Now I’ve got the flu.

PS: In case you’re wondering, I don’t think Jimmy Choo’s fit me, I don’t like baked beans, I don’t have the flu, and nobody sneezed on my onions. 

PERKY PACKAGE

(the rear end photo is classified information)

I’m toldMy filter sometimes teeters into hullaballoo territory. The Doyenne of Oversharing? Coucou, c’est moi! Are you sitting comfortably? Me too because... My rear end recently receivedClandestine bum-implants While I was sleepingAnd - woopdeedoo - the bouncy stuff came as a box-setBecause I got the matching boobs, too!This acute awareness of absolute Super-Mega-BoingOccurred on January 6,The day my husband and I took down the Christmas Tree.So, I’m wondering whether I should thankThe Three KingsFor popping in and turningSecret Santa into Secret Surgery. However, I remain convinced that Caspar and co. Got their Regal Knickers in a TwistAs I’ve never sashayed down the bootiliciousAisle of the lingerie department.You see,Less protuberant nether-landsAre far more suited to my lifestyle and body type. So, if you didn’t receive your perky package,Rest assured.It is currently perchedOn a blue and yellow cushionImpatiently waiting to be redespatched To its rightful owner.

JANUWEIRDLY

I’ve gone a little skewwhiff,You know?Like, one eye on the potYet no sign of the chimney,And all that jazz.Under pressure to be all that I can be,While struggling to keep time to the beatOf the music playingAt the Wonkiness afterparty.I can’t quite get it together.And, yeah, nothing fits!Guessing it’s a case of theJanuweirdlies...(I'm so out of it I even sent this out with Januweirdly spelled Januweardly... which is mega OTT weird! Unless I'm thinking of Januweary...)Anyhooooo,It's uncannily hot here in Catalunya; I'm sitting in the living room in a summer dress with all the French windows wide open. I'd be writing outside if the sun was a little higher. When it's too low it's impossible to see the screen on my laptop. Next week is supposed to be ten degrees lower; right now 21 in the shade is definitely not normal! I spoke to my son earlier, who told me it's snowing at our house in Switzerland. I soooo prefer Spanish weather...What are your plans for the weekend? I'm driving to Barcelona on Sunday and will be having dinner with my daughter Olivia who will be working on a fashion shoot there on Monday and Tuesday. Can't wait to see her as it's been months and months and months! Tomorrow I'll probably do some more work on my upcoming poetry book. I hope to publish it soon!Lots of love,Cesca xx

Moneymoneymoney…

THE SNARK IN THE MIRROR

Photo by Jana Shnipelson at Unsplash

I am beginning to find itHard to ignoreThe insultsBeing hurled at meBy the rude, impatient personIn the mirrorWho should know betterThan to pass ridiculous, cruel judgment onThis new plethora of full-body pudge-pudding rolls,All ailments and brilliant new medications considered.I should rebuke her insensitive remarksAbout my trunk now overflowing with junk,Send her to the corner to mull overThe amount of crap I’ve endured.I should tell her that the hissy fit she pulled tonightOver a series of unexpected and somewhat upsetting wardrobe malfunctionsWas beyond unacceptable,And that from now on she can bloody wellZip it.But of course, I know damn well she’ll just smirk and say,“Well, I would if I could, but everything’s too tight.”She’s awful, you know. She really is.

Buy me cake!

LASAGNA, LINDOR BALLS AND GREAT GLUGS OF CAVA: Catatonic in Catalunya

Do not attemptTo politely, moronicallyEat your wayThrough a giant plateOf lasagnaWashed down with great glugs of CavaFollowing a three-year hiatusFor health reasons. Do not attemptTo consider eating saidGiant plate of lasagna,Along with other unsuitable delectables,Such as German chocolate delicaciesAnd OMG LINDOR BALLS!!!!As a perfectly innocuous undertakingSimply because you are ingesting potent medicationTo counteract the effects of your incurable disease. Do not attempt to push throughThis utterly preposterous Moment of Yikes!Simply because you had told the hostess, In a gleeful, exuberant moment Of your newfound joie de vivre,That your food allergiesAre no longer an issue.Because even if most of them are, in fact, No longer the absolute, unequivocal no-no’sThey were two months ago,Be assured that you will inevitably come face to fork With the culinary equivalent ofThe perfect intestinal storm. Do not attempt to poo-poo this perfect intestinal storm,Unless, like me, you are an idiot.Because, last night,Yours truly threw common sense To the Windy MillerAnd gobble-giggle-scoffed her dumbass wayThrough every single stage of all-of-the-aboveWith her zest-for-life/tralala/watch-me-pop-another-Lindor-Ball typical abandon,Only yanking the hand brakeWhen she suddenly had to express a warning shot ofOMG PUKE!!!Into her napkin and then dispose of itWith all the discretion the delightful evening called forAnd that the charming hostess deserved. Do not attempt thisUnless you are preparedTo endure a restless, musical, hallucinogenic night,And to waste a perfectly lovely following dayTo the barracuda-bazooka-wakaboom effectsOf a gluten and lactose overdose. Yours truly,Catatonic in Catalunya

Buy me some antcids

 

 

PSYCHEDELIC MILLEFEUILLES

Image Distinct Mind on Unsplash

 

 

I walk,

 Rhythmically,

Slipping through thoughts,

Down to the edge of lightheadedness,

Intrigued by a myriad fragmented

Senseless semi-thoughts,

Thoughts of thoughts on thoughts,

Void yet teeming, shapeless yet shapeshifting

Mesmerising

As they get a little

Weird on me,

Layering wildly

Like the flakiest millefeuilles

In a psychedelic patisserie

In the forest.

 

I walk,

And I wonder,

What is a thought?

VENUS AND THE CRESCENT MOON

Photo taken by my friend JP Bersier the other night while walking his dog. It was so late that the moon had already given up on getting anywhere with Venus and had gone to bed…

 

Nobody strikes a pose like Venus,

Hovering like Ava Gardner in silver lamé,

Just beyond the reach of a crescent moon

Eyeing her with the crooked smile of a matinee idol.

I chose to mention Ava Gardner because she used to holiday on the Costa Brava, in Tossa de Mar, where there is a statue in her honour as you walk up to the fortress on the top of the hill with amazing views of the sea and the town. I also think there was a well known Korean series shot in Tossa, or maybe an episode or two, as it attracts lots of Koreans who come especially. Kind of like the cathedral in Girona, where fans of Game of Thrones love to come!

Anyway, my papa loved seeing Ava Gardner and enjoyed patting her bum! Please don’t cancel him…

Enjoy my writing? Buy me a coffee!

Buy my book here, or on the Amazon closest to you!

 

WHAT DOES POETRY DO?

Just a little fun with pastels after a long walk with my Nordic poles in the sunshine that made me very hungry, so I had eggs and toast. And then too much bloody chocolate!!!!

EAGLES AND AMAZONS

What is this World Wide Web thing?

I asked my American friend, feeling slightly daft,

Yet unable to contain my sneeze of curiosity any longer.

Please be seated, she replied,

Pointing to the black leather swiveller

Facing her computer,

Her gesture calm and accommodating,

Unlike the scornful scoffs splashed upon me

When, in sixth grade, I asked one of the popular girls what shit meant,

And ascended the throne of Dorkville,

Where half of me still remains,

Albeit joyfully so.

 

What is this Internet bookshop thing?

My husband asked me, not feeling the slightest bit daft,

His tone suggesting a blend of amusement and irritation

Over the frequency of brown parcels

Containing English books

Deposited in our Swiss letterbox.

Please be seated, I replied,

Pointing to the white leather swiveller

Facing my computer,

Where I delightedly dialled up

The World Wide Web

And presented him with a little-known website named

Amazon.

 

“It’ll never work!” he exclaimed,

Whereupon my spirits slithered a little

At the notion of my newfound, regular supply of books

Screeching to a sudden stop.

Because how could someone with

Half a bum-cheek still firmly smushed

On the Throne of Dorkdom

Argue with

The smarts

Of an international legal eagle?

 

How indeed?!

Buy me a coffee!

 

SHE LOOKS GOOD FOR HER AGE

She looks good for her age,

A group of women agrees,

Shiny painted pinkies fluttering

Alongside frothy cups of cappuccino.

And I wonder who

Has made it through the minefield,

Outrun the canons,

And summitted the hill

Without “letting herself go”,

As we tend to say, usually with a tight-lipped frown,

Tweakment consenting of course.

 

Good for her, I think,

Hoping she lets herself go with enough

Fabulous Abandon

To yell

WHEEEEEEEE

As she skip-sashays all the way

Down

              To

                            The

                                          Bottom.

 

Buy me some magic moisturiser!!