My Archived Poetry Blog With 3,750 poems
My clocks keep ticking
kind of like my beating heart.
Pity the clocks will most likely
outtick my aging heart.
Ironically or maybe not ironically
my clocks have more time
than me and my heart.
They probably could live
hundreds of years and
still be ticking.
While my heart if lucky or unlucky
might make it to ninety and nine
and never beat again in this
dead body, far less reliable than
an uncomplicated ticking clock.
Bob Boyd
Everything was wonderful
They were so much in love.
They planned their wedding
for two thousand and six.
On the day of the wedding
before the thrown confetti
and the ribbons tied to
the honeymoon car
the attendees and the bride
waited and waited
for the groom and his best men
to show
but the groom decided he liked
the company of the best man
more than the love of his future wife
while he and the best man got insensibly drunk
until the groom sobered up and
got to the church after the bride
had ended the relationship with
the unreliable groom
and eventually married
a more punctual man.
Bob Boyd
Geese are flying in V formations.
Wolves are running in packs.
Salmon are swimming upstream.
Pigeons are flying in flocks.
Some animals, some fish, some birds
break the mode and travel alone.
It fascinates me that nature or whatever
creates some species this way,
in groups or alone.
Bob Boyd