My Archived Poetry Blog With 3,750 poems
Savior of the sin ridden dead,
Sentenced to the hell fires,
He ate the bread,
Drank the ale,
That had been sitting on
The deceased chests,
Their sins consumed in
The bread and the ale
And in Munslow’s body,
The hell bound deceased,
Sins absolved,
Got a reprieve and
Went to heaven.
But what about Munslow?
Did consuming all those sins
Send him to hell?
Nay, he had a special
Heavenly dispensation.
Bob Boyd
I hear the raging rain outside,
A hundred blows against the windows
Like ancient archers shooting arrows
Attempting to bridge my apartment fortress.
I, like a fearless knight inside, scoff at their puny blows;
I’ve taken far worse blows in my war torn life.
Cancer was a far mightier foe than paltry rain drops,
Who’s hundred blows nearly killed me
On the battlefield of this transient life.
So let the rain strike as much as it wants;
I’ve survived more serious things.
Bob Boyd
Always liked that time worn saying
Lives of quiet desperation.
Makes me think of couples miserable,
Too afraid to part, fear of being alone
When joys of romance and love worn out.
Perhaps from growing apart or boredom
Or missing the excitement of first falling in love.
Pity that excitement fades with passing years
And for some those lives of quiet desperation begin.
Bob Boyd
I always thought angels hovered around her
Nobody could be that nice without angelic influences
She even looked like a beautiful angel without wings
Wondered if she was one and her name was Angelica
Never heard her say a mean word against anyone
Or lose control of her nonexistent temper
Was with her for a wondrous, magical year
Loved her unconditionally and platonically
A saintlike woman too pure to sexually corrupt
Surprisingly that was how I felt, her way as well
She believed real love should be beyond the physical
Strange though it may seem to you and anyone else
Pure and heavenly as she was I was okay with that
Unexpectedly for the first time in my unrestrained life
I enjoyed the sweet innocence of that absence of lust
She was the greatest, most memorable love of my life
The hovering angels took her home in the spring of 83
Flowers faded, a rainbow blossomed in the sky
And I always knew she was destined for the higher world
And would only be on earth with me momentarily
And I believe now she has heavenly wings
But O how she was the greatest love of my life
I miss you Angelica
Bob Boyd
An estimated 60,000 to 90,000
Mostly women accused of witchcraft
Tortured into false confessions
Slaughtered with wanton impunity
In the 150 years of the Burning Times
Insane decades, rife with superstitions
High Times for cold blooded psychopaths
Ecstasies of inflicting unimaginable pain
Mostly on hysterical unfortunate women
Who never dreamed they’d be victims
Lived normal peaceful lives unaware
Holy Hell coming into their worlds
Snarling men backed by the times
Bloodthirsty, heartless, infinity cruel
Under the cover of misused religion
Demons masquerading as men
Bob Boyd
As he wandered through Harris Teeter
Shopping alone as always
Sad words entered his mind
You’re like a motherless child
And alone in this world
Even though he’s an old man
That child thing and the aloneness
Rang a bit too realistically true
And he felt a little sad
Thinking about his situation
Parents dead, siblings estranged
Different paths, darkness and light
All alone in this world
Not a soul caring about
The motherless child
In a small sorrowful moment
He spied a Chocolate Easter Rabbit
With a half price sign over it
He bought it for himself
Though he’s more a giver
Than a receiver
It felt quite nice
For a motherless child
To have the comfort
The gift of a
Chocolate Easter Rabbit
And have his senses
Restored again.
Bob Boyd
Yellow guppies dying in my fish tank
Guppies often die young for many reasons
But this poem isn’t about that guppy fate
I’m putting myself in a guppies predicament
Imagine living just to die young in a fish tank
Imagine probably having no sense of self
And your only purpose to propagate
But thinking deeper are we not like that too
Here possibly only to propagate
Despite our sense of self and grand dreams
And whatever plans that all evaporate in
Death’s undoing, time erasing, all that we did
Unless some fame falls into out lives
And lingers for awhile but time erases fame too
In hundreds, definitely in thousands of years
Except for the propagation where our offspring live on
and on and on generation to generations
Many propagating just like guppies
Bob Boyd
In the city where I grew up
In the fifties, some Puerto Ricans
Sadly because they were few and different
Some ignorant people hated them
And disrespectfully called them spics
As a teenager I worked with Puerto Ricans
In a greenhouse picking plants
A father and his son about my age then
Good, decent, humble people and fun
I’ll always remember how the son and I
Had a disagreement about the devil
The son called diablo. He said
Okay Bobby, here’s how I can prove it
Go into the woods alone at night
And call diablo, diablo, diablo
And he will come to you
So I called his bluff and went into the
Woods and called diablo all night
I’m kidding. No way did I go into
A scary woods at night and
Try to summon the devil
The son won the disagreement
I was too chicken to try
What he said to do
Because what if
He was right and
Why tempt evil forces
If they indeed exist
It makes me smile
Remembering the son and the fun
I hope he’s alive today and
having a good life
Bob Boyd
Facebook thinks
I’m a bad hombre
Suspended my account
Before I started it
What the hell
Sure I was a bad hombre
In high school
Kicked out many times
Like a wayward delinquent
But with no priors, no Juvie
And Facebook didn’t exist then
Hell, we didn’t even have Google
Typewriters instead of
Keyboards and computers
But I’m a changed man now
No longer a screwed up kid
Whose problems stemmed
From home troubles
And corporal punishments
But that was eons ago
Since then I’m reformed
I found Jane and Jesus
Ok I’m kidding about Jane
I haven’t had a woman in my
Life in close to nine years
I took the vow of chastity
And swore off women
And God knows,
I had my share
Ok I’m kidding
About the vow
And the swearing off
Of late I’ve been
Thinking about the
Company of a woman
And how when it’s good
It’s as close to heaven
As a mortal man can get
But since I don’t go
Out of my way to find one
It’s kinda like
I’m dreaming
Instead of scheming
To find the real thing
Love of my life
Maybe my soulmate
But back to Facebook
(I digressed thinking
About the wonders
Of the right woman)
Because I want to put
Some of my poems
On Facebook despite
My pariah status
I did the appeal
What the hell
It’s like I’m
On trail guilty
Before proven
Innocent
Bob Boyd