Up the tower,
In Brugge.

On the flow,
In Brugge.

Wander the streets,
In Brugge.  

Kiss a stranger,
In Brugge.

Drink till Dawn,
In Brugge.

Throw on the way,
In Brugge.

*** in the river,
In Brugge.

Over the Bridge,
In Brugge.

Play the *****,
In Brugge.

**** the destiny,
In Brugge.

I am anchored to thoughts of Brugge.
My gastronomical panache is set.
Walking in a medieval town is like
voyaging  to the summits,
the stillness of the morning air
comes with a sense of belief.
Rossie our  tour guide
quilts you with the  knowledge
and a  knowing boon.
Nowhere else provides such testimony.

it spoke to me in
medieval Dutch,
like an obese King
of Belgium who
hands out free ale.

Tourist in Bruges
I was in Bruges, in Flanders, once
Saw beautiful old buildings where the patrician class
The merchants and charlatans lived
Where the poor lived in the past has been erased
The poor now live in high rise flats.
We rented a carriage with a bored horse that did its round
On streets too clean to be true; animals peed on canvas.
We walked around took the pictures as did others.
We had lunch at a café too expensive for its food, but the beer
Was good and that is worth remembering.

I've both toasted and buttered
having been served equally well
with marmite and marmalade.
I've dinned in Brugge and Halifax
trod the true path of kings
in places of requisite legend
still flavour claret
in truer climes
and tried to sting like a bee
composite and true living
slight of hand yet self assured

All those madmen buying bunches of  flowers
on Valentines Day,
tables double booked at the Restaurant
weekend Brugge chocoholic confession
yet all my cat wants is to be stroked
the gentle purring of the unfazed
overlooking my patio  
and pots of love lies bleeding.

I met a boy
His name starts with B.Finally.
He's small but charming.He speaks French and Dutch.(genius)

First I thought he was boring(cause everybody says that)
But in fact, he's well educated and humorous and endearing.
Though he lives on waffles and beers(and chocolate),
I don't mind, cause he's care-free.

He calls his heart Brussels(weird huh),his head Antwerp and limbs Ghent,Namur and fingers Brugge.
I love every part of him.

I once lived in his head, Antwerp, where he hides all of his best assets.
Full of whimsical,creative and splendid thoughts.
The weather in his head is unpredictable.I still love it

He's sometimes proud and sometimes kind, but mostly very caring
I love him, but now i should leave.

Brussels Sprouting had a Franco
German mushroom philosophy
avec their nocturnal germination
procedure und horse **** which
prevented consumer unawareness
of devious productivity methods
until The British exposed them by
throwing stones at their glasshouses.

Just coined new noun
discovered in the Irish
sea off the coast from
Belfast, drifting quickly,
blown off course by the
trade winds into the Gulf
Stream where it is expected
to liquefy and eventually
vanish in The North Sea
before Brugge in Belgium.