Day: April 17, 2026

Once in a while I use to write love poems,
but not with any woman in mind.

I thought I wrote them because it seemed obligatory
to write some love poems as one who writes poetry.

But maybe as a song birds sings songs seeking a mate,
I was writing love poems for the same reason.

Now I don’t write love poems anymore, maybe
because I’m not seeking love anymore.

Bob Boyd

I’m watching actors in a 30s movie,
doubtlessly dead, all of them.

Lives once bursting with excitement,
dreams and ambitions.

Careers lighting up the silver screen,
some famous in their days.

Now all dead, the excitement, dreams
and ambitions

obliterated and gone to dust.

Bob Boyd

Little bird trapped in a tiny cage,
and born in one,

does a part of you ever yearn
for the freedom you never knew?

Is there a primordial collective
memory inside of you that

beckons back something more
than being trapped till you die

in a tiny cage?

And do you sing your songs
daily for the sweetheart
you never knew

and who will never hear
your beautiful songs?

Maybe like you, I’m trapped
in a tiny cage too.

Bob Boyd