Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 4

DRIVEN TO DISTRACTION

But she says it’s normal, happens to her all the time…

 

Whenever I sit at my desk

Determined to do this,

I’m certain in five minutes flat

I’ll think I should do that.

 

I pivot to the other task,

And get on with my that.

But then the this I left behind

Insists I’ve lost my mind.

 

Whereupon I switch back again

To tend my nagging this,

But that keeps jumping up and down,

Convinced he’s more profound.

 

All day I pootle back and forth,

My laptop feels quite sloshed.

Is that in this or this in that?

Oh no, it’s gone and crashed!

 

BEYOND THE BRIM

I find myself -Finally! -Beyond the brim,My heart racing,Lingering In that delicious place Where story and wordEmbrace with abandon,Rolling over and over in the surf,Giddy with excitement,High on possibility.

HAVE YOU READ A ROMCOM THIS SUMMER?

It’s not too late for one last summer read, to make the season last. I began my summer with @Francesca Bossert’s wonderful romcom, Just Like A Movie and it was the perfect beach read. I wait all year for those summer reads, something lighter and frothier than the type of reading I do in fall or winter. And invariably that includes a romcom, the kind that takes you by the hand and with two really great characters destined to be together and all the plot twists the author conjures up for them, at last they get their big “movie” moment.

Add humor to the mix and I’m going to keep lying on my beach blanket, sunburn be damned. Just Like a Movie kept that promise. Set in Ibiza, with newly divorced heroine Gemma, 37, flying to Ibiza for the bohemian, creative lifestyle she’s always craved, escaping the airless marriage that kept her captive.

When the novel opens, she’s just getting settled on her flight from Barcelona when Cupid decides to put her heart throb in the seat next to her, the gorgeous Spanish superstar singer Emilio Caliente on whom she’s long had a crush. As the story unfolds, it had a little of the flavor of the 2024 film, “The Idea of You” starring Anne Hathaway, but Gemma is entirely her own person and she makes me laugh and feel for her predicaments on every page.

It’s Gemma’s first-person voice that grabs me, like your funny, self-deprecating, vulnerable and totally relatable friend. She’s endearing. And so I’m rooting for her all the way as fate has a field day in throwing rocks at the Emilio-Gemma romance.

The novel made me laugh out loud and rip through its pages to find out what happens next. My favorite element, though? Just like Francesca herself, it has so much heart.

Review posted today by AMY BROWN, on Substack

DON’T YOU

 

My theme song

was the title track

from The Breakfast Club.

I played it over and over -

metaphorically speaking of course -

But hardly anyone

got the message.

 

Lately I feel more

Llke a track from

The Police’s debut.

Oh, please!

not Message In A Bottle -

we’re far too old

for lonely island drama.

 

Mind you,

even that would be better

than static.

 

Meanwhile,

my body plays me

Loony Tunes

on a loop

in Surround Sound.

 

RUNAWAY

If I could runaway,

Go somewhere

Far away from me

Myself

Personally,

Find another me,

Today,

I would run.

 

GO ANYWHERE

There is nothing quite like

The magic stairway to anywhere

Born of the alchemy of crisp paper,

A smooth-gliding pen,

And your vivid imagination.

 

Pick up your pen –

Take the trip of a lifetime!

 

WEATHER FORECAST: COVERT OPS

ballerinas, terrified

In covert ops,

Wind slither-crawls down the mountain,

A meteorological army raid,

Building to

A destructive stampede.

 

Coarse-breathed boots on the ground

Wrench sun-zapped leaves

From fried sockets,

Forcing pirouettes and curtsies

From flower-ballerinas, terrified,

Just because they can.

 

Shrubs gesticulate in protest –

Surely such heinous behaviour won’t be tolerated?

Surely summer won’t be such a pushover?

 

Surely?

 

FOREVER FABULOUS: On hips, colour, and forever-fabulous friendships

All dressed up and unable to go!

Hello,This poem waves shyly at Jenny Joseph’s wonderful “Warning” (When I am an old woman I shall wear purple) and at Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” whose “sway of my hips” always makes me want to raise an eyebrow and wink at someone mischievously. It is also a love letter to my friend Sabina who remains forever fabulous, forever dancing on heavenly tabletops in scandalous boots. Sabina left us a few years ago, but I miss her every single day, so I was delighted when she came to sit next to me this morning, insisting on playing a big part of this poem.In other news, I'm back in Switzerland, and have loads of medical appointments lined up as my IBD is not improving with my current immunosuppressant; I had one of my worst flares ever last week and had to resort to taking cortisone again for a couple of days to be stable enough to fly home. I'm happy to be back here, even if a little freedom to go places would be a welcome bonus! Soon! Very soon...With love and gratitude,Francesca x

FOREVER FABULOUS

If I were elderly

I would not just wear purple,

But hot pink and turquoise and silver

And buttercup yellow,

In velvets and cashmeres and silks

And the softest cottons.

I would flounce down the high street

On my way to drinks with my friend Sabina –

She in orange or scarlet, or maybe, today, an exquisite emerald green.

 

Today, elderly me would wear turquoise and silver silk-velvet,

And sling a fringed suede bag over one shoulder,

Relishing how it bounces with the sway of my hips

As I flounce down the high street

to meet my dear friend

Sabina,

Forever fabulous.

 

Today –

Holy smoke! –

She’s in a scandalous scarlet number

With over-the-knee black boots with assassin heels.

Sabina forever has it going on.

 

She greets me with her mischievous

“Hello Madam”

Beige-busting hug

And we order cosmopolitans,

Pester the DJ

For Abba, Blondie,

And a whole lot of David Guetta and Ricky Martin.

 

Of course, we have no time

For the scandalized biddies in beige

Zealously guarding their handbags,

While Sabina,

Forever her fabulous self,

Let’s loose on a tabletop

In her scandalous boots

With assassin heels.

 

But wait a minute…

 Am I elderly?

Today I delight in a wardrobe bursting with colour and texture,

A swoon of hues.

I still flounce with relish

Whenever my hips are up for flouncing.

 

Sabina only greets me

With a mischievous “Hello Madam”

In dreams,

For she left this world far too early

And now lets loose on heavenly tabletops

In an endless parade of little numbers,

Each one more scandalous than the last.

 

Elderly, moi? Perhaps!

But I have Ricky in my hips,

Guetta in my veins,

And Sabina forever laughing,

Forever scandalous,

Forever fabulous,

Just out of sight,

Right by my side.

 

Sabina ❤️🦋❤️

THE CASE OF THE MISSING MINI

Hello!

Some of you may vaguely remember this one from early last year. I've tightened it up quite a bit, and it still makes me smile!

I'm trying to spend more time working on my novel, and so less poetically inclined, although who knows, since the poem pixies always arrive out of nowhere and demand my full attention. And of course, I ended up fiddling with this one for far longer than I expected!!

I hope this little story makes you chuckle! It’s inspired by something similar that happened to a friend of mine...

With love and gratitude,

Francesca xx

TAWANDA: Unstoppable! or The Amateur Cyclist’s Guide to Fearless Living

The only thing I stillpeelthese days –apart from fruit and anything thatcan’t otherwise be eaten, obviously - are the few stubborn layers offear-of-ridiculestill loitering in obscure corners of my body.However, those areasare so remote, so trivialI have no ideawhat they look like. Which is why, When I cycled to the post-box,smiling and helloing everyonewhilenonchalantlytrailing an entire roll of toilet paper,I failed to rousethe faintest blush.Tawanda!Hello! This poem was inspired by Beth Kempton's prompt for the new #tinysummerpoem. Yesterday's prompt was "peel". You're only supposed to spend ten minutes writing them, with no editing. But if I was a fusspot over words before, I'm even more of one now. So I spent longer, and I edited. Editing is not a crime. The poem was also inspired by my trip to the post-box yesterday... And no, I did not blush. I simply giggled, came home and wrote a poem. As you do.Have a ridicule-free day!With love and gratitude,Francesca xx