Day: March 15, 2025

I’m listening to the man singing about Oz never giving anything to the Tim Man that he didn’t already have,
and I’m transported back to a time I liked better than
the aging out time I’m in now.

And I’m reminded of all the good times that are past
and gone forever except when I relive them in my memory.

And I find myself hoping the afterlife is a place where
good times never pass, where happiness always lasts,
where true love is always true, and where I’ll be spending an eternity with you even though we haven’t met yet.

Bob Boyd

Lucy was as fair a woman as a woman can be.
She passed from this life at only twenty three.
On the day of her marriage to Charles Porter,
She tripped on her wedding gown on a stairs.
She died when her head hit the bottom step.
Now she wanders day and night in her wedding gown,
As if still trying to get to her wedding that never happened.
I’ve tried to communicate with Lucy about going to the Light,
But she never seems to acknowledge my presence.
Perhaps Lucy is only like a film replaying day and night.

Bob Boyd

In case you are unfamiliar with this kind of apparition, Lucy is not in the scene described in the poem. To quote an expert in these matters. She is “residual energy, like a playback of the past, an echo of a past event.” Lucy has gone somewhere else in the afterlife, hopefully to a paradise.

Supposedly sometimes when a person dies from a horrible event or an accident, the scene of that death keeps playing back over and over. It’s like watching an actor in an old movie who isn’t there physically.

Another telling characteristic is Lucy doesn’t interact, just like an actor in a movie wouldn’t interact with you.

And as far as me trying to get Lucy to the Light, that’s pure fiction. Most of my poems are fictional, even first person ones, with some exceptions like a poem I wrote today: Boundaries of Love with a 25 Year Old Adorable Woman.

Another evil entity in Greensboro Park
In the scary, forbidden and evil dark.
Be there no end to this devilry?
Unknown to lovelorn me, Baba Roba,
Supposedly only a Slavic myth,
Was terrifyingly bona fide, and she had
Shapeshifted into a beautiful woman
And blew me the most tantalizing kiss.
Thought finally under a fortuitous moon
I’d met my life’s love, thanked the God above.
But, alas, when I gave her a mere kiss,
She shapeshifted back into a scary old witch
And cursed me into a croaking toad.
Said she’d remove the curse If I gave
Her half my bank account. I croaked an okay.
She removed the curse temporarily, so I
Could get to my bank, Summit Credit Union.
Upon my return, doused that Baba Roba
With a concoction of holy water and hawthorn,
And she screamed like a banshee and died.
Maybe. Hopefully. Crossing my fingers.

Bob Boyd

She was 26.
I was 75.
Old enough
to be her grandfather.
She was petite,
charmingly adorable
incredibly funny
and she had
the sweetest voice
I’d ever heard.

At work
she flirted with
me so tortuously
much that it took
all my will power
and more to not
get enamored with her.

Sometimes my
mind was assailed
with constant thoughts
of her like a person
gets on the brink
of falling in love.

But I couldn’t go there.
I had to put a boundary
on what would have
been a senseless
impossible love
that never would have
lasted.

Once she begged me
to attend a work event
with her, but sadly,
regrettably, I had
to say no. And it
hurt my heart so
much to have had
to reject her
and that I might have
hurt her feelings.

I really wanted to go
there with her,
to be with her.
But I knew that
spending an evening
sitting next to her
would have rendered me
unable to resist her
and I would have made
the foolish mistake
of starting
something that
just could not be.

I’ve never believed in
putting boundaries on
love, but I had to be
realistic and fair to her.

And though it
pained my heart
and could have been
foolishly seen
as old man’s
gift from God,
falling in love or
even going
out with her
was a boundary I
could never cross.

But oh how incredibly
adorable she was
and oh how I miss the
sound of her voice
the sweetest I’d
ever heard.

Bob Boyd

She calls herself Atmosphere, and her YouTube ASMR Videos
are like something created in an alternative world far richer than this one.
She must have a background in theatre productions, acting, and the like
to create such surreal, unreal, mystical, amazing, peerless ASMR videos
such as ASMR Morning Rituals for Your Highness in an Ancient Realm or Preparing For a Treasure hunt – Medieval Fantasy RPG.

She takes you into undreamed worlds and plunges your inner world into states or relaxation that are almost unexpectedly transcendent.
In a myriad of indescribable ways she navigates you on fantastical trips
through the many magical places she creates with her incredible imagination.
She is just as magical and mysterious as her ASMR videos, and I often wonder who she really is and how she has this phenomenal talent.

Hail to Atmosphere! Queen of ASMR Artists!

Bob Boyd

At Saint Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal, Canada
Brother Andre, a Canadian Saint is entombed.

Humble doorkeeper, a brother not a priest
least likely to be used by God, perhaps
the last being first, became a miracle worker
healed ailing supplicants from all over the world,
the power of his supercharged prayers and
unceasing devotion to Saint Joseph.

Never took credit for healing 10,000 or more
so humble, so devout, so saintly was he.

When he died, a million people streamed past his coffin
in reverence to this humble, God-blessed healing saint.
His mortal remains lie in the coffin at the back of the oratory in a sacred room, a powerful shrine where crutches of many healed pilgrims adorn the walls.

If you go there and visit his tomb, do not be surprised
if you feel palpable, saintly energy that will renew you
and replenish your faith. This I write from experience.

Bob Boyd

I saved a ladybug’s life today
It fell in my fish tank or maybe
It wanted to end it all. It thrashed
In the water desperately. Had my
Hearing been better, I probably
Would have heard ladybug
Cries for help.

I could have looked the
Other way and let the ladybug
Drown and become waterlogged
Fish food. But a nobler cause
Guided my actions. I couldn’t
Bear to let that little ladybug
Suffer a moment longer and die.

So with a piece of paper
Like a life raft for drowning
Souls at sea, I eased the
Gasping ladybug onto
The paper. When I got the
Ladybug to shore aka a
Ledge on a table, I swear
Inside my head
I heard a tiny ladybug
Thank you.

Bob Boyd

My parents always said why can’t you be like Arthur Koski
As if he was some kind of sainted kid above wrongdoing
And I was some kind of ne’er-do-well loser who always screwed up
I hated that ideal Arthur Koski and his supposedly perfect ways
When I dropped out of high school and Koski made the honor roll
My parents threw that in my face and kicked me out of the house
Years later that perfect Arthur Koski became a Catholic priest
I became a grunt working whatever construction jobs I could get
No doubt my parents would have said why couldn’t I have been as pious and as educated as Arthur Koski
I lived a common life with a good woman, made enough money to get by, and never got in trouble
Arthur Koski, on the other hand, was arrested for molesting altar boys
If I were less a man and vengeful, I would have said to my parents why couldn’t Arthur Koski have been like me?

Bob Boyd

Mary Lindsay went to church
And came home saved
Mary Lindsay went to a bar
And came home drunk
Mary Lindsay went to church again
And came home saved again
Mary Lindsay went back to the bar again
And came home drunk again
I’m not throwing any stones
At least she was trying.

Bob Boyd

This is a simple poem and I’ve created many fictional characters in poems, but despite the poem’s simplicity, Mary Lindsay is my favorite character.

I love her because I feel she had a difficult childhood that caused her severe harm, like being sexually abused as a child. And that dark chapter in her young life, and probably other horrible things, led her to alcoholism.

I love her because she’s not giving up despite what she’s been through, and I feel she will prevail in the end and have a great life despite the disadvantages she faced.