Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 27

SEABLISS: a haiku

Brushed by silver sun,

Inspired by wave wisdom.

A sand-child cartwheels.

WEATHER FORECAST

Leaf carnage in Catalunya today, with erratic but stern westerly winds forcefully disrobing poplars.

The willow shimmies his long, skinny green arms in quiet anticipation, awaiting effeuillage.

 I sit, coffee in hand, knees hitched beneath the light fabric of my dress, pondering the appeal of swimming pool.

 A golf ball pings off-key nearby. Swear words resound.

 First world problems.

GHOSTS

I think I saw a ghost,

I think I saw a fly,

I think I saw a bat out of the corner of my eye.

 

I think I saw a spider,

I think I saw a bird,

I think I saw the cat sneak out in a flash of bright white fur.

 

I wish I saw blue butterflies,

Or lolloping giraffes,

But I know that what I really saw were floaters in my eye 🤪

SLURPS: a haiku

Classical music

Hides a multitude of slurps

Let’s pick our battles.

WEATHER FORECAST

Spontaneous displays of late season semi-nudity in Catalunya today, encouraged by capricious sun-rays and a breezy jigsaw sky.

Expect flashes of soft flesh quivering with delight in last season’s gaping bikinis.

Inverted tummies and shocked  expressions inevitable on pool ladders as water temperatures plummet.

Intermittent pshhhhs of sunscreen highly encouraged.

Wish you were here.

POETREE

I bought a tree from Peggy,

She said it would bear fruit,

A fabulous variety,

To help dispel my blues.

 

I placed it in my garden

And waited for its crop.

I prayed the tree might hurry

As I felt quite out of sorts.

 

One morning some weeks later,

I peered outside and gasped.

My tree shimmered with coloured cards

On every single branch!

 

I went to fetch my ladder,

And scrambled up my tree,

I picked a sparkling pink card

And opened it to read.

 

The card contained a poem,

About a little girl

Who gave away her happy,

To brighten the sad world.

 

I found a wicker basket

To harvest all the cards

Read poetry for hours

And felt my spirits soar.

 

Every single morning,

New poems adorned my tree,

Soon I had so many

My grin tickled my ears!

 

I filled a bag with poems

And set off down the street,

Giving everyone I met

Some of my tree’s magic poetry.

 

All year my tree keeps giving

Gifts of poetry for the soul.

I share its gorgeous bounty

With the people of the world.

 

GIRL TALK

 

I spent the weekend at my friend’s,

She has a double bed!

We whispered late into the night

About things they might have said.

Who’s they you ask?

Well, it depends, we two are rather fickle,

Last month I crushed on Jamie Crew but then he got a pimple.

My friend she once liked Wolfgang Sprout

Until he liked me more.

The problem was he left me cold; he really was a bore.

We both agreed that Jim was cute, if only he’d grow tall.

As for Bob, to me he was the hottest of them all!

 

My friend and I are older now

We no longer need to whisper,

We stay up late with herbal tea

And giggle acapella.

Jamie Crew and Wolfgang Sprout?

We saw them recently!

Jamie Crew’s got wrinkles now,

No pimples, just a belly.

As for boring Wolfgang Sprout

He turned out rather well!

He worked in finance in New York

And rang some famous bell.

Bob is still a gorgeous guy

He’s kind and quiet and lovely,

He worked in pharmaceuticals,

On drugs that fix bad tummies.

 

My friend and I will never know

If those boys used to whisper

About us late into the night,

Wishing they were braver.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MY SPECIAL PLACE

Good afternoon!

How are you? I’m feeling a lot better, and hoping this medicine truly is the bomb! I don’t want to get too excited, but since I began taking it yesterday morning I’ve been fine. Shhhhh…! Don’t want to jinx it…

I had a wonderful Osteo/physio/massagy-magic treatment earlier with my favourite therapist ever. He’s amazing and I fell asleep while he was working on me and was bummed and very sleepy when it was over! I’ve written a poem, and it’s a bit of a meh super simple one, but whatever. It’s cute and harmless, about how I always feel happier when I’m in Spain. I’ve felt his way for decades, ever since the first time I ever went to Ibiza, back when my kids were really small. There’s something here that makes me smile more easily. Switzerland is beautiful, and I love my house there, but I feel lighter here. Do you have a special place? Do let me know.

MY SPECIAL PLACEMy special placeI’m not sure why,When I’m in SpainMy grin revives.I start to hum,Sing silly songs,I find my goof,And let it rock.When I’m back homeIn Switzerland,It’s gorgeous too,Yet something’s off.Spain fuels my oomph,My yay, my me,I love the flowers, The trees, the sea.So, if you need some oomph, a lift,Perhaps a change of scenery,Just pack your bags, go find your placeYou’ll know as soon as you get there.Where is your special place?

Lots of love,

Cesca

QUICKSILVER: somebody that I used to know

Good morning!I'm in Spain! I made it! I decided on Tuesday to fly over here because on Monday I had a great Skype consultation with a gastroenterologist in Barcelona that I'd been supposed to see in person but had to cancel because I wasn't well enough to fly. But when on Tuesday morning I tried to get the medicine he prescribed, it wasn't available in Switzerland or France. So, I figured a change of scenery would do me good, and later booked the last seat on a flight to Barcelona the following day. And it was a great seat, too, right at the front, with more leg room.I was going to listen to my book on the plane, but instead I wrote a poem, inspired by someone on here (I'm so sorry but I can't remember who...) writing about the boys in her past. So I thought of a nice boy and wrote this. Will you write about nice boys (or girls) in your past? It's quite pleasant to think about! Only the nice ones, of course...Anyway, I made it over here, and my husband (he's been here 10 days) had picked up my meds, so I'm all set to get better! Hasta la vista, IBD!!Here's the poem. I hope you like it!

Cesca xx

Quicksilver 

 

Clooney’s cute wobble,

The charm all his own,

A dabbler in doobies

And probably more.

 

Quicksilver liaison,

Flash floods of lust.

Our passion palaver

Ignites the dance floor.

 

Fluorescent skinfare,

Nights in white swoons,

Delicious mornings,

Wild afternoons.

 

Sin sodden glances,

Star in his eye,

Compromised friendships,

Frissons galore!

 

THE BIG BUT

Good morning,You know this introduction to a slightly accusatory conversation. Happened to me yesterday. No biggie. Nevertheless, these things sting (and cling) when you're ultra-sensitive like me, so I had to kerpow-splat it with a poem. It's still clingering but it's its grip is loosening. And I still love her!!!Voila! No buts from me to you today, justLots of love,Cesca xxTHE BIG BUTYou know I love you,Say those who clear weedsBefore planting the BUT.Big but so what?Brace for turbulence.