I like graveyards during the day;
I find them peaceful, not ghastly.
I like reading the headstones.
Some have sad epitaphs,
A child dead at age six,
Often with an angel on the headstone.
Some are so old you can barely read them;
The etched words worn away with the years.
I like finding old neglected graveyards in forests,
Symbolic of how nothing endures forever.
I find it exciting to see headstones from the 1800s,
Like finding a rare and nearly ancient treasure.
I don’t like graveyards at night.
Once, decades ago when
I lived near a small one
With a walking path in and out of it
To take a shortcut while jogging at night
I ran through it and felt so much fear
That I got goosebumps and felt
As if my hair would stand on end.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Quomodo cogis comas tuas sic videri?
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.
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