He had dried roses in his coffin
for his wife who died before him
he felt certain he’d take them
with him into the land of the dead
and give them to his wife
when reunited with her there
Bob Boyd
My Archived Poetry Blog With 3,750 poems
He had dried roses in his coffin
for his wife who died before him
he felt certain he’d take them
with him into the land of the dead
and give them to his wife
when reunited with her there
Bob Boyd
Worldly people don’t care about transcendence
their lives preoccupied with worldly affairs
vacations, ship cruises, tv shows, dining out
obscure thoughts of transcendence
I wonder if their priorities shift
when they phase out of this impermanence
and leave all their worldly affairs behind
Bob Boyd
One man was told he couldn’t sing
by a music teacher.
Another man who wanted to be a painter
was dismissed by critics.
The man who couldn’t sing
became a superstar singer with many
hit records and decades of fame.
The man who couldn’t paint became a famous artist
renown for his post-impressionist paintings.
Though he’s been dead more than a hundred years,
today his masterpiece paintings cost millions.
The singer was Elvis Presley, the painter, Vincent Van Gogh.
Bob Boyd
When I changed my mind
about being with her
and asked her out,
too late … too late, she said.
You had your chance.
I didn’t push it. No always means
no.
After I showed no resistance to
her rejection,
didn’t try to change her mind,
she became interested in me
again.
Too late … too late, I said.
No always means no.
And looking back, I kind of
wish we hadn’t played
games
and just got together.
And maybe, just maybe, we
would have had a lifetime
of lasting love together.
But she is dead now, and I
almost was.
Too late … too late.
Bob Boyd
Beautiful women of every generation
fade away like fall flowers
while beautiful women of upcoming
generations take their places,
only to wilt and fade away as well.
Beautiful women, a tragic example
of how nothing lasts
in this impermanent life.
Bob Boyd