Sound of It

In a tranquil field
Flowers and weeds
Locked in mortal combat
On the serengeti plans
Lions
Hunting prey
In the cosmos
Black holes
Devouring stars
In a junkyard
In Kentucky
A mechanic
Dismembering cars
Sitting at my computer
In Greensboro, NC
I don’t know what
This poem means
I just like the
Sound of it

Bob Boyd

Avatar

Author: BobBoyd

79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA. Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional. I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more. I like and abide by the saying life's too short to be taken too seriously.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

error: Content is protected !!