Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 8

WHEN A FRIEND TURNS YOUR POEM INTO A SONG

I have a beautiful, talented friend who - artistically at least - goes by the name “Loopy Galore”. She doesn’t seem particularly loopy to me, but if she does have a few loose screws, she’s turned them into magical instruments, writing beautiful, soulful music.

Recently, Loopy spent a few months in America. We kept in touch by text while she was away; she sent me her latest compositions, and I shared my poetry. She returned to Switzerland just as I left for Spain, so we missed each other in person, but our exchanges continued through words and songs.

Loopy knew I’d been struggling with my health for a long time. She understood that poetry - and working towards publishing my book, “Illicit Croissants at Dawn” - had become my life vest in a sea of doctor’s appointments and social isolation.

Yesterday, she sent me a song. Upon listening, I realized that the lyrics are inspired by one of my poems, “Sunbeams Through the Mist”

The song is gorgeous, but beyond this I can’t begin to express how much her gesture touched me. When so many people who were once close to me drifted away in the months I was housebound, never calling, never visiting, Loopy’s generosity felt like a warm hug. She took my words, blended them with her own, and created something beautiful out of kindness, empathy and thoughtful understanding.

Maybe Miss Loopy Galore is as loopy as I am. Maybe “loopy” is another word for “kind”.

 

Find Sunbeams Through the Mist in my poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn.

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST BIRDWATCHING IN MY NIGHTIE!

What a difference a little under 48 hours makes! The last time I posted I felt deeper than the dumps, worrying that I’d never be able to go for a decent walk again because my IBD has been horrendous these past few weeks. And while I haven’t yet been for a decent walk – have a little patience, as Take That says – since I began taking the medication my Spanish doctor prescribed the improvement is remarkable. I’m trying not to get too excited as I don’t want to jinx it, but at the same time I don’t want to be Deidre Doomedpants.

Anyway, so far, so much better. Yesterday afternoon I pottered down to the pontoon on the big pond at the end of our road, where there is a little bench. I sat there for ages, watching the golfers (we live on a golf resort near Girona), listening to the birds and watching for fish, otters and tortoises. I heard a couple of frogs in the reeds among the beautiful water irises, but I was mostly captivated by the birds.

The pontoon, where I geeked out with Merlin

So many birds! I recently downloaded an app that many of you will probably already know. It’s called Merlin, and it recognises birdsong, and identifies each bird for you with a photograph. You press a button, and it records the birds in the vicinity, until you stop. Each time it picks up a bird, the photo and name of the bird appears on the screen. It’s wonderful!

There are so many happy birds here, singing away all day long. I’ve switched it on now and see that quite a few beautiful yellow European Serins are chorusing close by.

A European Serin! So pretty!

They’re joined by a Zitting Cisticola, a Cetti’s Warbler, a European Greenfinch, a Song Thrush, House Sparrows, Eurasian Blackbirds, Great Tits and a Common Nightingale, the latter being anything but common as he sings beautifully. I had no idea Nightingales sang during the day! Late last night, after watching our latest Netflix craze, Yellowstone, which we’ve almost finished - and I’ll miss Kevin Costner, because he’s just gorgeous, I opened my bedroom door to record what for the last three years I’ve thought was a Hoopoe bird, because there are loads around. Well, it turns out that it isn’t a Hoopoe, but an owl! It’s not a barn owl, but some other specimen and sadly I can’t remember his name. But he makes a particular hoop sound at regular intervals, a bit like the sonar of a submarine. I then went and listened to the Hoopoe sound, and it’s similar, but has a triple hoop hoop hoop call. So, now I hope to find a singing Hoopoe, too. Maybe I’ll start wandering around the resort late at night in my nightie, phone in hand, like a weirdo!

A Hoopoe bird. I love them!

My daughter turned me onto Merlin, so we’re now both bird-listening geeks, and I was joking to her earlier this morning - after I got up and took my new magic medicine, then went outside with Merlin – that before we know it we’ll be off to nature reserves in full birdwatching kit! Which sounds really nice, actually. There’s a stunning nature reserve just up the coast, near Roses, which we visited in October. It was quieter than it probably is now, as most of the migration would already have taken place. Nevertheless, there were plenty ofpeople there fully kitted with telescopic cameras and binoculars. I’m pretty sure pink flamingos return there every year, so I hope to go when I’m feeling a little stronger, as well as more confident that my intestines aren’t about to pull a wobbly.

In other news, I’m excited to have registered to go to a reading at the Backstory Bookshop in Barcelona on the 10th of June, where @Daisy Buchanan and @Donna Freitas will be talking about using books to ease anxiety. I didn’t know there was an English bookshop in Barcelona, which is an hour away from our place here near Girona. The Backstory Bookshop looks amazing and regularly hosts all kinds of lovely events there, so I’m hoping to be able to go to more.

I received quite a few copies of my new poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, yesterday, so I’d like to organize a reading here at the resort, as soon as I feel confident enough, health wise. I think it would be fun. I also videoed myself reading one of the poems in my book, The Bohemians, and uploaded it to Instagram, and I’ll include it here, too. The sound is a little faint as my phone was a little too far away, but if you turn the volume up, I think it’s okay. I did it in one recording, which is a first, as usually I fluff my words over and over. I need to practise putting a little more “acting” into my reading. It’s hard, and I’m shy! Must be because my body is happy to be Spanish again! I only wish my voice could become a little more Spanish, too… However, I need to practise putting a little more life into my readings. It’s hard, and I’m shy!

What I’m reading: A Recipe for Sorcery a poetry book by Vanessa Kisule, and it’s beautiful. I’m also rereading Glennon Doyle’s Untamed, which I first read when it came out. I also find myself dipping in and out of Danielle Coffyn’s If Adam Picked the Apple, which I love.

What I’m listening to (apart from birds!!): I’m enjoyingChristie Brinkley’s autobiography, Uptown Girl. I’ve been a fan of Christie since the mid-Seventies, when she became the first supermodel, in fact I still have a book she wrote way back then which is really cute. She’s 70 now, and still looks incredible. Yes, she’s had work done, but she’s allowed, and whoever does her work does an amazing job; she’s not all lips and boobs! And I wish I had legs like hers…

New craving: Nespresso chocolate coffee capsules! I’ve been careful with coffee for a long time for obvious reasons, and on super bad tummy days I don’t have any. But I love cappuccinos made with Nespresso’s chocolate coffee and whizzy-whirled oat milk. The hazelnut capsules are also a new favourite. My husband hates both, so more for me!

No poem today (so far…), but who knows what can happen. Maybe my swim in the pool will inspire me. I saw a huge tortoise walking across the fairway yesterday while I was swimming, and I saw a fox recently. My husband told me he saw an otter the other day, which I’m hoping to see. It’s almost Disney!

What are your plans today? Have ever been birdwatching? What are you reading, and what do you recommend to add to my mountain of books? Also, if you’ve read Illicit Croissants At Dawn and not yet posted a review on Amazon, please, please do! It helps with my visibility. Thank you!

With love,

Francesca

SIMPLE MINDS, COMPLICATED LIFE

My IBD has been terrible these past few weeks, and I was at the end of my rope yesterday evening, worrying that I will never get any respite from the constant intestinal catastrophe my body inflicts on me day in, day out, preventing me from having any social life.Will I never be able to go for a walk again without worrying about whether my gut might throw a wobbly in the middle of a path? And what about the concert tickets I’ve bought for July and August at the gorgeous little coastal festival? We’re supposed to be seeing Simple Minds, and then Michael Buble. How can I possibly go? And what about my poor husband? Will we never be able to go to visit friends? And there’s that wedding in Portugal in September! I can’t possibly go! It will be so stressful! What if I get really sick during the reception?On and on my mind whirred. Living with this kind of anxiety day in day out is exhausting, and I often sleep for hours in the afternoon. I know it’s crazy, that I shouldn’t think this way, but I feel ever so guilty to be inflicting this on my husband when he should be enjoying his retirement. We should be able to do fun things together, but we can't.However, I am a little more hopeful this evening after contacting my Spanish gastrolenterologist this morning, right after speaking to my Swiss gastro who had nothing helpful to suggest, which made me cry in despair. My Spanish gastro - who is the most empathetic doctor I’ve ever met - sent me a prescription for a medication that should help, and told me not to worry because there are other options available. So, I’ve taken the medication, and I hope for a peaceful inner life. Keep your fingers crossed for me; I’m dying to go for a walk along the coast and a dip in the sea!Here is a poem I wrote early last year, from a prompt by Beth Kempton (the prompt was “bunch”) It was very short in its original form, so I’ve had a little play. I’ve completely re-written it, added a bunch of stanzas, and written it with someone in mind!Francesca xxTHE FIBBERI’m an excellent fibber,I can tell you a bunch,I fib before breakfast,I fib before lunch.I fib in the afternoon,I fib late at night,I fib when I’m wrong, I fib when you’re right.I fib to my wifeAnd to my kids too,I fib to my mistresses,- I have quite a few!I fib to my peopleDon’t mind if I do!I fib to world leadersHey, what can they do?I fib to make money,To make crooked deals,I fib to my people,The art of the steal.

THREADBARE

 

Tonight, I hang by a thread.

I hide the fear,

slip it beneath my tired smile

and let them call it resilience.

 

I count my many blessings.

I write, I rest, I sleep.

I hope for another new treatment,

for some respite.

But tonight,

after being shredded,

I hang by a thread.

 

On a happier note, Alisa is right, my poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, does make a lovely present, especially the hardback version.

 

GOLD-PLATED GOODBYES, A golden silence

Fly the Mandarin Menace to a gold-plated moon

in his ostentatious monstrosity,

and leave him splayed upon a moribund star,

anger-yapping at eternal silence

in severely unflattering light.

 

Strap the rest of the Greasy Goblins

alongside him for the ride.

Let then swing from defective moonbeams,

slowly slip-slithering into the void

as the void itself rolls its eyes,

jamming all earthbound transmissions.

 

How we’d enjoy the silence.

 

My poetry book, ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN, is available on Amazon.

 

 

PRIVATE EMOTIONS IN A BON BON WORLD

SONG TITLE POETRY: M IS FOR…HURRAY!!!...RICKY MARTIN!!!!

Ohhh, this was harder than I’d expected, because I know so many of his Spanish songs! Yep, I’m a mega Ricky fan, and I wanted to tell a story, so I hope this works.

 

Jezabel, Be careful…

Private emotion, Loaded.

Maria? Shake your bon bon! She’s all I ever had.

She bangs! Spanish eyes!

I like it, Livin’ la vida loca!

Are you in it for love?

Nobody wants to be lonely.

The cup of life? I don’t care!

The best thing about me is you.

 

 

EXPERT SWAGGER: SONGTITLE POETRY, K IS FOR LENNY KRAVITZ

 

 

I’ll be waiting,

Again

It ain’t over til it’s over, Honey

American woman, Believe in me

I belong to you,

Are you gonna go my way?

Is there any love in your heart, Lady?

Black velveteen, Dirty white boots Strut,

Show me your soul.

Sex? Bring it on!

Rock star city life, Dancin’ til dawn!

Mr Cab Driver? New York City!

 

 

 

MASTER MANIPULATOR, DATE AT YOUR OWN RISK

SONGTITLE POETRY: J IS FOR JOHN MAYER

 

Who says

Your body is a wonderland, Rosie?

Shouldn’t matter but it does. Beat it!

I got a woman Slow dancing in a burning room,

Sirens Daydreaming,

Waiting for the world to change Say

Go easy on me, wait until tomorrow.

Something like Olivia? No such thing.

Who says Love on the weekend? Why Georgia?

Are you ok Dear Marie, Famous Queen of California Assassin?

All we ever do is say goodbye, Dreaming with a broken heart.

Do you know me? The hurt Man on the side, Sucker Stitched up,

Crashing.

I don’t need no doctor, Victoria!

Good love is on the way.

Praise for ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN, available on Amazon

THE SHAPE OF HEALING

Baby rabbits frolic beneath the willow tree,

Yellow irises pose by the pond,

Blackbirds attend choir practice,

Golfers swing and swear,

Little dogs laugh next door.

The sun heals my belly,

As, slowly, gratefully, I go native.

^

SONGTITLE POEM: K IS FOR KC AND THE SUNSHINE BAND

 SNUBBED BY THE QUEEN OF CLUBS

Please don’t go, Queen of Clubs!

Keep it comin’ love,

I’m your boogie man,

I’m so crazy about you,

I like to do it.

Let’s go rock and roll’, Let’s go party,

Shake your bootie?

Get down tonight?

That’s the way I like it!

 

Do you feel alright?

How about a little love?

Come to my island, Give it up,

Don’t say no; I’m gonna do something good to you!

Baby I want your lovin’, I NEED a little lovin’

 

Red light?

Que pasa?

The PAINTER?!!!

You’re out of your mind!

Go now before there’s trouble!

 

BUY MY WONDERFUL FABULOUS AMAZING UPLIFTING POETRY BOOK, ILLICIT CROISSANTS AT DAWN. AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.