I’m reading a poetry book beginning at the
end of it. but, trust me, I’m not a half wit.
What! You say that sounds odd. I have to agree,
trying to be an objective critic of me.
But hear me out and you might see the method
in my oddness is far from insanity.
I began by reading the book from the start,
but felt the poems had no heart.
So to in an attempt to put my dislike in the past,
I thought maybe the best were saved for last.
Now maybe that was crazy and my thinking was
hazy.
But like a crescendo, and I write this with no
innuendo, the poems at the ending were
better, more heartrending and mind bending.
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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