Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 49

LOITERING

And your husband ?

 

Thank you for asking!

These days he loiters

In Lounge Trousers.

Reconnecting

With those loose layers

Lost over years of

Lawyering with intent.

BAD MAN IN A RAINCOAT

The memory is vivid.

I am three years old. Maybe four?

Whatever.

I am a tiny girl in a department store

Rails of clothes tower above me.

My mother nearby is

Choosing pretty things.

A man.

A raincoat

Yes, I experienced the cliché.

An inappropriate hand finds me in an inappropriate place.

A split second knowing this is very wrong.

I find my mama.

I hold her hand tight.

But I say nothing

For over 50 years.

I still don’t know why.

How many little girls did he stalk between rails of clothing?

Elsewhere?

I have never liked raincoats.

SEASALT

Weathered shutters, a faded aqua-blue,

The shade of his eyes

The way she remembers them.

That night, all those years ago.

As he stood in the entrance of this house

Framed by a tangle of fading jasmine and budding pale pink roses.

Tiny Ballerinas, her grandmother called them.

His shy smile, his skin like a perfect summer-beach.

Sunblonde hair.

Wind-mussed curls

Taut with seasalt.

  

She will see him again.

Tonight.

 

FRENZY

 

Week after week

A frenzy

A torrent

Floodgates wide open

While for two decades I heard

White noise

Embellished by hoofbeats

While lingered a certain melancholy

For joyful words that once had tumbled.

 

Now I play catch up

Running with wide-eyed wonder

Dancing

Feeling

Breathless in this fun frenzy

This frenzy of fun

A Discovery

Poetry ❤️

 

DRIP

 

(A not-so tiny spring poem, the prompt: DRIP)

I know it’s mean to let it rip,

But my ex-husband was quite a drip.

Not in the way you might suppose,

His looks were good, he wore nice clothes.

 

A couple of years after we’d been wed,

He turned into a bonehead.

This man who’d once been rather fun,

His sense of humour came undone!

 

Every time I had a laugh,

He eyed me like I was riffraff.

I wore eggshells instead of shoes,

My heart felt like a giant bruise.

 

And then one day he met a chick,

Some nasty meanie from Munich,

Her little Schnitzel he became,

Apparently she lit his flame.

 

So I asked for a divorce,

Refused all money, cried myself hoarse.

Then suddenly I’d had enough,

Hey, Gemma Talbot could be tough!

 

I washed my hair, reclaimed my groove

To Caliente’s music began to move.

I rang Celeste, then booked a flight,

I would celebrate my life!

 

Ibiza’s the place for me,

I’m the creative sort, you see,

The flight was late, I was quite bored,

When suddenly, oh my sweet lord!

 

A gorgeous man sat next to me,

Emilio Caliente in the next seat!

The Spanish popstar! It was him!

I worried he might find me dim.

 

But goodness me, we had a chat!

But it didn’t stop at that!

To know the rest, I’m so sorry

Read the book Just Like A Movie!

 

SWITZERLAND DECLARES ROMCOMS MANDATORY READING

A great missive arrived today

A fabulous communiqué

I can’t believe this happy news,

It has me tickled, most amused!

 

An influential Swiss committee

Made romcom reading mandatory!

“The people in this land are sad,

It can’t go on, it’s really bad.”

 

“Happiness must be restored,

Across the land, and then paid forward.

Our belief in the power of giggles

Had all of us in quite a jiggle.”

 

“We did research, real serious stuff,

And found a need for frothy fluff.

Literary snobs can eat their hats,

In black and white we’ve got the stats!”

 

The government has passed a law,

Instated April first ‘24

“The good people of Switzerland,

Need romantic comedies for good health.”

 

As of today in this country

No more glum faces we will see.

Instead of chocolate or eating sweets,

Choose romcoms as your daily treats!

 

And throughout the land Swiss people danced,

Brandishing romcoms in their hands!

Across the world please spread this news,

Follow Switzerland’s lead and beat the blues!

 

 (as it happens I have just the book!)

PLEA

(Tiny Spring Poem, the prompt: PLEA) 

A million miles away

On the other side of the world

My child

Anguished

Fragile.

 

His tears tear me in two

I am home

Alone

With only words

Wielding verbal bandaids

Down the phone.

 

Beyond fear

A prayer finds me

And carries my plea

A million miles away

To the other side of the world

To my child.

 

A plea for solace in Bali.

 

Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IF

(Tiny spring poem from a prompt : IF)

If she had not fallen

I would not have been there to lift her up

With my oblivious innocence.

 

If we had not fallen together

We may not have risen

When they fell.

 

May we rise

To celebrate those who fell

While trying to rise.

 

But may we rise in kindness.

Always.

WATCHING

(TINY SPRING POEM FROM A PROMPT BY BETH KEMPTON: TODAY THE WORD IS “WATCHING”)

 

I sat watching.

But I couldn’t see.

I couldn’t move forwards until I learned.

That I would never see anything until I found a way to whoosh away the darkness.

 

And with that I saw.

I no longer watched.

I reversed the seeing.

Saw within to see without.

 

I sought someone to help me see.

So that I no longer simply watched.

 

And now I love what I see.

 

THE ITALIAN OOMPA-LOOMPA

Or The Week My Father’s Future Looked Orange!

“Mamma mia, Sylvia dear!

Come quickly, I’m over here!

I don’t know what’s going on,

One thing’s for sure, there’s something wrong.”

 

“My hands are now a funny colour,

Maybe I should call my mother.

Look at this, it’s really strange,

My palms have turned a bright orange!”

 

“I washed them many times and yet,

The brownish orange seems to stick.

A pumice stone would make them sore,

I don’t know what to do anymore!”

 

“Good morning doctor, it’s so strange

Look, my palms are bright orange!”

The doctor gasped, “Oh goodness me,

You must have some foreign disease!”

 

Doc went on, “Sit down, Monsieur,

I’ll have to take your temperature.

I’ve never heard of orange palms,

I’ll call my colleagues, ask around.”

 

“I’ll take a swab, alert the lab,

Let’s hope this disease isn’t bad.

Meanwhile I suggest you go to bed,

And hope the colour doesn’t spread.”

 

Stay quiet, drink fluids and get some rest,

I don’t know what else to suggest.

I’ll be in touch, I’ll let you know,

But as it’s summer, labs can be slow.”

 

“Mamma Mia, it looks like shit,

I do not like this crap one bit.

I’ll put some cream, I’m sure it’s good,

It’s used by stars in Hollywood.”

 

“I’ll go to bed and sleep soundly,

To rid myself of this disease.

Sylvia, please, I don’t feel well,

This disease ees terreebell!”

 

“My husband snored the whole night through,

Yet morning brought no better news.”

“Dear me, my palms are getting worse,

Madonna Santa, I have a curse!”

  

“More cream I must quickly put on,

That Hollywood one, I know it’s strong.

I’ll rub lots in, I will be fine,

And forget about it with some wine.”

 

The problem only got much worse,

Now orange everywhere dispersed!

When he next looked a few hours later,

What did he seee? An Oompa-Loompa!

 

Our daughter walked past the bathroom,

She had gone out to ballet school.

“Oh finally, there’s my fake tan,

Papa, you stole it, you naughty man!”

 

“That cream is good, but be aware,

If you apply it, you must take care.

Wash your hands immediately,

If not you’ll look like such a freak!”

 

“But don’t apply it everyday,

Cuz if you do, you’ll look quite strange.”

“Madonna Santa, but of course!”

We laughed until we all were hoarse!