Best Flemish Poems

what to do with the grand mother
just a picture to me in an heavy frame
I never met her
she died before I was born
emptying my life
I look at her and try to find myself
buried in morocco she hardly spoke french
her husband gone a year earlier
they wait...

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I knew an old buffoon
quite the gloomy poltroon
who through a stormy monsoon
flew his hot air balloon
and among the Walloon
and Flemish
much to their surprise
did not meet his demise
but with neither a blot
not a jot
nor blemish
at all 
on hand
in the small
6-Government
densely populated
parliamentary constitutional monarchy
3-language country of Belgium
safely...

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