Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 19

SUNBEAMS THROUGH THE MIST

Artwork by Olivia Bossert

Light comes in through tiny cracks

It wriggles through to coax life back.

When joy’s a concept, a word, abstract,

When you feel guilty for feeling sad,

When you’re a burden, a mess, a pain,

And deep inside you’re so ashamed.

When you want to disappear,

But even that fills you with fear.

Reach for strength in random signs,

A perfect pebble, a breeze, moonshine.

The fog of sadness will slowly lift,

Replaced by a soft silver mist.

You’ll glimpse a sunbeam; first one, then more,

One day at a time rekindling joy.

THE PRINCESS AND THE PIQUE

Where were you

During my consultation?

I watched my words evaporate

Before they reached

Your brain

In an expensive indifference.

 

Were your needles placed

Randomly today?

 

I left feeling rather piqued.

 

Buy me a Sangria

 

The Stench of Power

Image by AI

What do they smell of,

Those Slippery Men,

Fluent in Sycophancy,

As they scurry alongside their

BIG MAN,

Beating their puny, hairless chests,

Tossing wads of bank notes like rose petals?

 

Do base notes of

Insanity and Disconnect

Peacock among a dangerous, poisonous accord of

Arrogance, Misogyny, Impunity, Entitlement and Greed?

 

Are the top notes of their reek found among the charms of

Plunder and Piracy, Putrefaction and Pestilence?

 

And at the core of this composition - and here we speak of core, since God forbid such a stench be in any way associated with heart – which nauseating, nostril-tormenting notes do we shrink away from? Is that icky whiff a puddle of spoilt milk? A platter of overripe cheese? A pool of decomposing beef? A splat of rotten eggs?

 

Sycophant, by Badombré. Because you’re an asshole.

 

Crikey.

 

Do you think they brush their teeth?  

PS: Badombré? Bad Hombre…

NOBODY WANTS GLOOP

Don’t squander your water,

Don’t just run the tap!

If you’re washing the dishes

Please don’t be a twat.

 

Add a bowl to you sink

And just fill it halfway.

Then do all your washing

In that bowl every day.

 

Are your plants looking thirsty?

Does your loo need a flush?

That nice bowl of water

Can do all sorts of stuff!

 

If this sounds too preachy,

Well, what will we do

When our taps dribble brown gloop?

Goodness me, we’ll be screwed!

 

 

Buy me some ecological washing up liquid

 

WEATHER FORECAST

Bright blue with ice, this morning,

So hunker down with porridge or toast

Or both

For a moment longer.

Read poetry,

Not news,

As the news is as chilling as the outside temperature

But far less beguiling.

Unless you’re into orange…

Juice?

No orange juice, please. Apple?

WHAT TO FRY NOW!

Artwork by www.oliviabossert.com

Remember when we were teenagers

And we used to say,

Of someone we were secretly envied

Or were intimidated by,

“She’s so fake!”?

 

Did you do that?

We did.

 

Why are we still

Eyeing each other up and down,

Zooming in on boobs and suspiciously-smooths,

And well,

Nicole Kidman?

 

Because now lots of us are at least partially fake.

 

And we're allowed (which is what my siblings and I used to say when we were young and snarky).

 

We need to concentrate on frying the bigger, stinkier fish.

 

Also, we mustn't forget to stock up on air freshener,

Because the Super Stinkers are about to hit the pan en masse.

Open the windows. Or close them.

I don't know.

 

Anyway,

Let's try not to be Stinkers.

Not even mini ones.

Or, maybe, keep our Stinkies in the First Aid Cabinet,

And use at our discretion.

Intelligently, you know.

  

Let's be nice. As much as we possibly can.

Cesca xx

PS: And let's be careful, too. You know, walls and (citrus-coloured) ears and all that...

Just a coffee, maybe?

SNOOTS, TOOTS AND FLU

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, and I don’t have the flu, so I suppose nobody sneezed on my onions. 

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…