Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 6

DIAMONDS IN YOUR PUDDLE

I had a crappy day yesterday. My IBD came roaring back when I decided to stop taking one of my medications because the bloating it caused me made me terribly uncomfortable. It wasn’t really helping either, at least not enough to warrant putting up with the distended stomach.

 

Inevitably my body went ballistic, and despite my determination to stay on the sunny-side of life by writing a poem about my blessings, by yesterday afternoon I was so fed up that I retired into my bedroom and connected with my inner-wounded animal. Once the storm subsided, I fell asleep for hours, woken up by my lovely husband suggesting dinner.

 

Honestly, I’m so over food! I know it sounds crazy, but I really am. If I could avoid eating altogether I would. Apart from breakfast! I love breakfast. But this morning I even cut down drastically on that, in an attempt to calm the flare. Ha!

 

Today’s poem grew out of my wounded-animal spirit which nonetheless always reaches for the silver lining.

 

I hope it speaks to you, and that you find diamonds sprinkled all over your path today.

 

With love,

 

Francesca xx

 ❤️🌿❤️🌿❤️🌿🔧☀️🔧☀️

DIAMONDS IN YOUR PUDDLE

Maybe you stumbled today,

sweet pea,

and heavy darkness

muddies your sparkle.

 

If it feels like you’ve spent

every last penny of courage,

and despair has tossed you

face down in the puddle of your impossibilities,

 

Know this:

You are not required

to constantly present your radiant

sunny-side up.

Especially if

your forecast

is raining spanners.

 

Forecasts change.

 

Maybe -

just maybe -

there are diamonds in that puddle.

 

Otherwise, there’s always this poem.

 

TO-DO LIST FOR THE GROUNDED

My body is a prisoner,in a gilded cagefluffed with love-feathersfor which I am grateful.Yet how I long to air my mind -for outdoor adventure,a day at the beach,a hike in the Pyrenees,a trip to the city.How I missmy freedom!But I shall not surrender to the slouch of sadness.Instead, I will fluff the love-feathers of my fabulous cage,Inhale the summer-scented Spanish heat,Enjoy a water adventure in the pool,Swoon over the rich eccentricity of the agapanthus,Admire the butterflies relishing the tiny red flowers by the front door,Seek the kitten and its mother spotted among the tall grasses,Watch the willow flirt with the breeze,Ponder the possibility of a Cyprus tree,Flatter the oleanders into offering new blooms,Marvel at the wild agility of Oenothera (a.k.a Gaura),Praise the geraniums for matching my nail polish,Chirrup with the goldfinch,And smile at the cicadas.It didn’t take long to wish everyone could share my to-do list.🌿☀️🦋🌸🐜🐥🦆🐇🐈Blessings have been counted.Also, @Jane Pike, I may even paint some more Shitty Birds 🦅🦢😀I just finished the audible version of The Correspondent, by Virginia Evans, and loved it. Stunning production!I wish you a lovely day,Francesca xxIllicit Croissants At Dawn - poetryJust Like A Movie - romantic comedy

JOYRIDE: Lapis Sky, Sequinned Sea

Lapis sky, sequinned seaPerfect car, perfect we,Don Henley on repeat.Summer boys whoop and wave,Shiny teeth, flattery.We just smile, having fun,In our blue convertible!Salty air, salty skin,Scandi-gold, smooth as silk.White tee-shirts, denim shorts,Wind-whipped hair, old flip-flops.Bright red toes, shell-pink nails,We just smile, having fun,In our blue convertible!Volume high, seat-dancing.Cruise-control, Highway 1,Southward bound, chasing fun.Big Sur days, crazy times,Joy and I,Kind of wild!We just smile, having fun,In our blue convertible.🌊🌿🌞❤️🍾Good morning!A couple of weeks ago, I had a phone call from an old friend in California. Years - what am I saying? Decades! - have passed since Joy and I last saw each other. It had also been forever since we spoke.Our conversation brought back a flood of great memories from when I lived at Joy's house in California, way back in the eighties. Joy is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met, welcoming me into her home for months (and months!) at a time. She worked as a freelance real estate agent and was, therefore, master of her own schedule.A fun-loving, mischievous free spirit about ten years older than me, Joy loved to party, and often threw impromptu late-afternoon gatherings that turned into all-night fiestas, complete with guitars, singing, dancing, plenty of beer, wine, Margaritas, and the occasional smile-enhancing accessory for anyone so inclined.Joy and I would often take off down the coast in her trailer for a few days in Big Sur, camping at Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. I adored Big Sur, with its wild, unspoilt beaches, majestic forests, and picture-perfect river. I loved the laid-back hippie vibe, Happy Hour at the River Inn, and those gloriously floppy late nights at Esalen, where we’d loll in hot tubs beneath the stars, thoroughly off our trolleys, chatting with complete strangers until dawn. Magical powers would then cruise-control us back to Joy’s campervan, where we’d sleep for a few hours before heading back to the River Inn for bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns to soak up the hangovers.Later, we might hike up a canyon in search of the elusive waterfalls our hot hippie friend Johnny swore existed, or wander down to the beach, watch the waves, and hatch plans for another unforgettable evening.Close to forty years later, I look back in utter awe at Joy’s generosity, so freely given and, in my youthful thoughtlessness and naivety, probably largely taken for granted at the time. I hope I managed to repay some of that kindness when we later travelled together to Switzerland for further adventures.I don't have the perfect photo to share with the little poem I wrote with Joy in mind. I'm not currently at my home in Switzerland where I'd have found a myriad fun photos of those days. Then I remembered a grainy old Hotel California video I made at Joy's house, circa 1984. I'd spent hours splicing it together using rudimentary equipment, matching scenes to the beat of the music. I wasn't sure I still had it saved in my photos, but there it was, waiting patiently!Time has made this recopied VHS video extremely grainy, but I don’t mind. I think the grain gives it extra cachet. It’s a slice of life. A moment. An era.Also, have you ever met anyone who could drive with one leg out the window?I have. Her name is Joy!With lots and lots of love,Francesca xxx

PERMISSION TO PLAY!

Pastels, water, paintbrush,fun,sunny day,old skills long gone.Squiggles,colours,blotches,oops!Splodges,who cares! Carry on!Dipping,trying,smiling,yes!Doodlingquirky feathered friends.Itchy,Fishy,Silly,Loud!Join the Shitty Bird Club,You can’t paint wrong!Come on! Join in! I did and I haven't painted since high school!Illicit Croissants At Dawn - poetry Just Like A Movie - romantic comedy

GOSSIPEERS: beware the side-effects of gossip

Good morning,

I guess we all give into gossiping at times - if you don’t, please tell me what you eat for breakfast. I strive to be practically perfect at all times, but I do keep a pair of good tweezers and a toothbrush handy, just in case…

Lots of love

Cesca x

RUBIES AND RUBBLE: PARIS BIDS, PALESTINE BLEEDS

IMAGE AI

While snipers calibrate

to solve the Palestinian Problem

once and for all,

a bidding war breaks out in Paris

over a dead celebrity’s handbag:

cracked leather

stained lining

sticker residue

ten

million

dollars

 

Going once

Going twice

Gone.

 

Somewhere over the rainbow

an auction afficionado

on a private island

sips champagne and scoffs

“What a steal!”

having dropped

thirty-two and a half

million

dollars

 

late last year

for Dorothy’s ruby slippers.

 

Meanwhile, in Gaza,

a child is pulled from the rubble.

 

No yellow brick road

No good witch.

No shoes.

No home.

 

No heartbeat.

ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN

 

FIFTY SHADES OF BIC: from the stationary aisle to the edge of ecstasy

The notebook…

 

Your aloof attitude shall not spare you.

I have come for you,

Virginal notebook,

My pen cocked,

My ideas flowing.

 

You lie there,

Pristine, defiant,

Yet you know what lies ahead.

I shall find

Bliss among your blank pages.

 

You are my destiny.

 

Oh, do not act surprised!

You flirted shamelessly with me

from the stationery aisle -

all creamy paper and come-hither spine.

 

Let me doodle in your margins,

leave crumbs of brilliance

and droplets of midnight oil

between your lines.

 

You will enjoy the ride,

and together we shall become

 

Immortal.

 

My poetry collection, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, would love to be taken on holiday with you…

THE SPACE BETWEEN US

How do we drag the clouds aside,

return to the sunshine,

and simply breathe,

together

in that blessed hush

where love always shines?

 

Can grace and empathy prevail

when white waters heaped

decades of emotional debris

in the space between us?

 

How do we take the initial

unnerving, tormented step

while too fragile

to withstand anything but softness?

 

LA FETE DU LAC: Pop-Corn et Fausses-Notes au Bord du Lac (the French version of Off-Key and On The Rocks)

Sur scène, rictus de rockeur bien calé,
Jambes moulées façon chipolata,
Il écoute l’intro.
Yeux fermés, moue de mauvais garçon en place,
Il hoche la tête au rythme,
Entre dans son personnage,
Et tire le micro vers lui.

Il sourit, ouvre les yeux,
Et hurle Livin’ on a Prayer
Dans une tonalité douteuse
Avec un accent bien français.

Et la horde d’enfants dansants
Explose,
Sautillant comme du pop-corn,
Tournant comme des toupies déchaînées,
Tandis que leurs parents
Aperol Spritz au bar,
Pleurant de rire devant le carnage.

 

OFF KEY AND ON THE ROCKS: Power Ballads, Popcorn Kiddies, and Aperol Spritz

Not the right poster, but you get the idea!

 

Centre stage and sneer-perfect,

Seasoned legs sausage-splayed,

He waits out the intro.

Eyes shut, pout in place,

Nodding, he feels the beat,

Steps into the role,

Pulls the microphone towards him.

 

He smiles, opens his eyes,

And belts out Livin’ on a Prayer

In a dubious key

With a French accent.

 

And the crowd of dancing kiddies

Erupts,

Bouncing like popcorn,

Windmill arms and dizzy-spinning,

While their parents

Aperol Spritz at the lakeside bar,

Crying with laughter at the mayhem.

 

Hello!A friend in Switzerland sent me some video footage of a band playing at small lakeside music festival and I was only drinking water, but I giggled myself silly watching! This poem came from the little video that I will not share because the band, the kids, and the parents were all having a wonderful time! And fun is to be encouraged. 

Love

Cesca xx