Author: BobBoyd

79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, walk 2 hours daily. Kundalini energy rising since age 27, began writing poetry October 2023.

I’m Relating a True Account – This Poem is Not Fiction

One night after she turned out her bedroom lights and went to bed
A shadowy nonhuman hulk appeared at the door of her bedroom.
It had no tangible bone and flesh substance.
A dark malevolent form, no legs, no arms, no head, no face,
It silently summoned her attention; she could not resist its bidding.
It paralyzed her body, her will too weakened to move or flee.
A glowing white cross manifested upon her bedroom wall.
A voice inside her said repeat the Lord’s prayer over and over out loud.
The shadowy nonhuman hulk drew nearer more menacingly.
Terrified, she kept repeating Our Father …. Our Father …. Our Father ….
The horrifying dark form gradually dissolved into nothingness;
The glowing cross turned in upon itself and melted away.
She telepathically heard the assurance she was safe always;
Never more to be tormented by that monstrous, intangible hulk.
All her previous cares evaporated in that miraculous moment;
Whereupon her life became more carefree, more liberated.

Bob Boyd

Luckless, loveless Old Man Lament

As a luckless old man ten unsteady steps away being in the obits,
I’ve given up on the ship I’ve waited for all my life to come in.
I think it’s docked forever in Singapore or at the bottom of the Bering Straits.
The only ships I see are those that always pass me in the night.
I sit here marooned in a beggar broke, loveless unshipworthy life.
Almost won the lottery, 10 million, but somehow the ticket got lost.
Had what I thought was the love of my life, Daisy Bobby Sue Mae,
Didn’t know she was half crazy and crazier about the monied life.
She left me when she somehow got flush with cash and bought
a BMW, designer clothes, diamond rings and a fancy pants gigolo.
I know what you’re thinking.

Bob Boyd

A Tangled Life

He lead a tangled life,
A miscreant in high school,
A troublemaker in the military,
A criminal back in the real world.
Then as an incarcerated outcast
Had an epiphany in solitary that
Untangled his tangled life.
Saw he was the architect
Of his destructive behaviors.
Reformed and rebuilt himself
Into a better benevolent man.
His troubled life vanished
like dark clouds after a storm.
Spent the rest of his days
In compassionate service to others.

Bob Boyd

Anu

When Anu was in the highest heaven
I was waiting in the wings of the ethers
To be born.
Though there a thousand years
passes in a millisecond,
Trillions of those is a long time to wait
To be born.
Soon I’ll die and go back into the ethers.
Will I have earned heaven
or liberation from the wheel?
Or will I be back in the ethers waiting
To be born?
Whatever the outcome, I’ll be
Better off than Anu. No longer
In the highest heavens, he’s
Dead and gone.

Bob Boyd

The Bad Boy of Religion

The bane of Heresiologists
The scourge of Polemicists
Even Peter didn’t like me
He wouldn’t take a bribe
I was formidable
I was a sorcerer
I was a magician
I could levitate
I could fly
I was the bad boy
Of religion and I
Never knew why
They said I was
Malevolent
I said Nobody’s
Perfect we all
have our
Imperfections
In Rome I
Was redeemed
And deified
Name’s Simon
You probably
Know the rest

Bob Boyd

Amazing Woman at Harris Teeter

She works making pizza at
Lawndale Harris Teeter,
Friendly, helpful, compassionate,
Exceptionally nice.
Survivor of cancer three times,
Now in remission.
Fiance got cancer too, the
Cancer ended his life.
So terribly heartbreaking, hard to
Imagine coping with the loss.
She has a strong, brave spirit,
And a beautiful disposition.
Awes me how despite the cancers
And her fiance’s death,
She still smiles and stays strong
And exceptionally nice.
I’m so impressed with this amazing
Woman at Harris Teeter,
Hope she has a long and happy life
And never gets cancer again.

Bob Boyd

They Used to Rock Us on the Way to Church

Elderly exemplary woman, eighty years plus, medical conditions.
Despite having little, better, nobler than most having much.
Daughter shot to death by ex boyfriend, four year old daughter
saw mommy in pool of blood on kitchen floor.
Elderly self-sacrificing grandmother worked two jobs for years to
Raise that child right, Honor Roll student, Bennett College graduate.
One Christmas, asked grandmother if she wanted a free Christmas turkey,
My agency had many that year. She said no, let someone have it
Who needs it more. Knew her for many years, had highest respect for her.
Despite how noble, how magnificent she was, when a child
walking through a field to go to church with preacher father and four sisters, racist teenagers and hateful grown men often threw rocks, rocked them, on the way, should have been arrested.
But things were different back then, justice for some never served.
How horrible, how sorrowful, must have been those hateful, dangerous days.
A religious woman of high character, she forgave them,
never holding a grudge. In my opinion, always saintly, and I’ll
Never forget her.

Bob Boyd

In Memory of a Mike McHugh

I remember you friend Mike McHugh, always a good story, always a great smile.
Women loved your raven black hair and your bright, deep blue eyes, to them
you were a handsome prize.
I hated how time dulled your bright deep blue eyes, grayed your raven black hair,
stole the stories from your lips, numbed your mind with a medical condition worse
than Parkinson’s.
How it saddened my heart that all that you were and more the years erased
And worse, now that all that you were and more is gone forever
buried in the cold, unfeeling ground.

Bob Boyd

The Older I Grow

The older I grow the more people and generational icons
I know in the afterlife.
The older I grow the more I realize I’m merely a
sojourner in this uncertain, fleeting life.
The older I grow the more my body breaks down and
needs medical repairs to maintain it.
The older I grow the more I become like a fossil in
this fragile, transient existence.
The older I grow the more things I see I dislike
in this ever downward spiraling world.
And the older I grow the more I see death as a friend
who will usher me into my eternal home of
limitless love and unending bliss.

Bob Boyd

In Memory of Joe Drew

From Woburn, Mass, a small city, in 1964 Joe Drew joined the Marines,
The few, the proud, the brave sent him to the front lines in Viet Nam.
A good, gentle guy, never harmed anyone with words or fists.
Often thought, Joe why … why … why you, the nonviolent one?
Concluded gentle Joe probably felt he wasn’t manly enough,
And the Marines made manly men out of gentle teenage boys.
I’ll never forget Joe Drew, goodhearted, tender soul, great guy.
Joe came back from Nam in a body bag, first in Woburn.
Tears rained all over the city, one of our own down forever.
How I wish Joe never joined the marines and went to Nam.
A nicer guy there never was. If when I die, I wouldn’t be
Surprised if I meet an angel in the afterlife … Joe Drew.

Bob Boyd

The Guppies or Me

My kinda crazy ex named Daisy had an obsession with guppies, seventy six tanks and counting. The guppies multiplied into thousands. She’d coo over them as if they were babies. She seemed to love them more than me. Soon so many tanks in the house I could barely get in and out. I told her she needed to see a shrink and cut back on her guppy explosion. She said never happen, the shrink or the guppies. Said I’ve had it, the guppies or me. She said good riddance, Bob. I’ve got my guppies, I don’t need you. I’ve got to get better at selecting or, more likely, being selected by, the wrong women.

Bob Boyd

Forsaken

The sun tearfully sets in the horizon
The moon cries in the lonely night
The world pines over your departure
I stand at your grave, eyes full of tears
Feeling broken hearted and forsaken
If only you’d given life another chance

Bob Boyd

A Glimpse of the Realm of Bliss

Temporarily clinically dead, a car accident
Above his body witnessed, heard everything
Before the scene vanished and his spirit
Went through the panoramic life review
Like passing movie scenes of his life events
Realized life and afterlife spiritual schools
Graduation permanence in the Realm of Bliss
Swept through the tunnel of radiant White Light
Glimpse of the inexpressible abode of Love and Light
Awed and humbled by encounter with the Absolute
Unconditional Love beyond words, source of everything
Unimaginable, inexpressible eternal unending bliss
His earthly life lackluster, unreal and dreamlike
Wanted to stay in his true home forever and ever
Told he had to go back and be more loving.
Came to in the ICU disappointed and saddened
To be back in the impermanence, longing
to return to where he was born to be eternally.

Bob Boyd

Remembering Ruth

Remembering you with tears my eyes misted
was saddened to learn you had 52 years only.
You should have had at least 70 or more.
Never learned what sent you into the afterlife.
Your nicotine decades long addiction, I suspected.
You always smoked too much, worried me.
But maybe you hit the afterlife lottery, leaving
sooner, freed from the ravages of aging,
and I’ve no doubt you’re in a heaven. And
just maybe … we’ll meet again.

Bob Boyd

Crystalline Unicorns

We rode on crystalline unicorns in the afterlife, the unconditional love and the bliss mind blowing beyond words, beyond imagination, beyond anything one can experience in the transient days of impermanent, earthly life. Me temporarily only, an NDE tourist, her, Brianna, luckier, a permanent resident. Bliss beyond measure as we gallop through euphoric Elysian fields, Brianna, my newly discovered soulmate.

Now I know why I never found love true In my earthly existence of near misses. I needed to die to finally find her, not only the woman of my dreams, but the one I’d seen in my dreams before the car wreck that killed me temporarily. And though I miss her I know she’ll wait for me until I die permanently.

Bob Boyd

The Parade

This passing parade of people
you see throughout your life,
some you love, some you hate,
some you barely know.
Some are strangers passing by,
some linger then say goodbye.
Of the many in that parade,
few remain. The rest are
as if dead, gone from
your life forever,
returning never.

Bob Boyd

Robins

Robins scatter on the lawn as I walk by.
Why so afraid? I mean no harm.

Soon they fly off, as I wish I could
Make them see I’m a friend not a foe.

But I understand as little prey birds
They have to always be afraid

Of big human monsters like me.
And, honestly, I’d be the same,

Were I a little prey bird that
Could be crushed by a hawk,

Or killed by a big human monster
Unlike me.

Bob Boyd

Desiree O Desiree

Desiree, O Desiree there’s never been a woman like you,
not even the Greek goddess Aphrodite could compare.
Sometimes I wonder if you’re an ancient goddess too,
sent from Mount Olympus to an undeserving mortal like me.
And I wonder why this insignificant mortal came to be
with a goddess among women like you, Desiree.

Maybe Zeus sent you down to me for the time
I saved that Greek kid from a bully in DC.
Maybe he was Zeus’s son sent from
Mount Olympus for a mortal woman who,
for whatever mysterious reasons, deserved to
be with a god among mortal men.

Like ancient times, maybe ancient Greek gods
still intervene in the affairs and romances
of mortal women and men.
Maybe like you, Desiree, those Greek
gods are incomparably, mind-blowingly real.

Bob Boyd

The Aegean Sea

I’d love to sail with you
Between the Balkans and Anatolia
In the historically important Aegean Sea
Where Aegeus jumped into those waters
And drowned himself to death
Where the Greeks and the Turks
Argued over the sovereignty.
But let’s forget about the
Myths and the history
Let’s just be together
In our love boat afloat
in the Aegean Sea.

Bob Boyd

Drawbridge

Back to Drawbridge Cancer Center last Friday
Post cancer, blood test, and doctor checkup
Chocolates and poems for the wonderful nurses
Tirelessly laboring in the infusion room daily
Providing comfort, care, and kindness
Soothing and cheerful, helping heal cancers
With magnificent infusion machines
I miss those wonderful nurses
at the Drawbridge Cancer Center
And will be forever grateful for
their tenderhearted care and
skilled help in saving my life.

Bob Boyd

A Thousand Tears

He hears the cicadas grieving in the trees.
Their chirping grief in tune with his own.
Wife and three-month old child gone forever,
A raging house fire took them away.
His mind plagued with sorrow and guilt,
If only he’d been home instead of carousing,
A stable husband instead of a meandering one.
Maybe he could have saved them.
But what use of maybes now?
A thousand tears cannot wash away
The loss, the agony and the guilt.

Bob Boyd

If only You Believed

Was listening to Jefferson Starship Miracles. You know the part where they sing “If only you believed in miracles, so would I?” That’s my lyric to you. I’m here, heart open, bouquet of purple Irises, your favorite color, offering you all my love and more. If only you believed in miracles. If only you believed in the epic love of a lifetime, yours and mine, ever true, always new, only for you, ever glorious, me leaving never. The love poets write about, singers sing about, movies film about, people dream about. If only you believed… like I do.

Bob Boyd

Crows

Demonized in movies
Omens of Evil
Big loud birds
Pests to some
Scary to others
Raiders of nests
But I love crows
Love the raven black color
Love the piercing caws
Love the high intelligence
Love watching the flocks
Gliding in the skies.

Bob Boyd

Morning Coffee

I woke up and found you gone.
In my dream we were together again,
You in the kitchen making coffee,
The smell fragrant to me as always,
I loved your morning coffee.
You made it better than I ever could.
You hugged me before we drank
Our coffee and discussed poetry.
Holding you, I smelled your fragrance,
Far more pleasing than the coffee’s.
Upon waking to the world I remembered
That you were gone. Six feet under
in the cold smothering ground.
Tears fell from my eyes.

Bob Boyd

Never Get Tired of This Song

Ever hear a song you could
listen to a thousand times?
I have.
Listened to it probably thirty times,
never get bored with it.

Strums chords in me resonate
with idea of a goddess womon
lights up the world with love.
Perfect woman for me
soulmate incarnate.

Love Grows (Where my Rosemary goes)
Edison Lighthouse. I even love the band’s name.

Bob Boyd

This Is True Love

Home from the Vietnam War, two tours,
Wheelchair confined, broken body, traumatized mind.
High School sweetheart wife waited through the
Years, the tears, the fears. Cared For him,
Stayed with him, loved him through PTSD,
Times of depression and despair, hospital stays,
Many health problems, her love, her caring unwavering
Through it all till at age sixty- eight when he died,
Wife at his bedside. Could love be truer than that?

Bob Boyd

A Strawberry Rasbora Fish That’s Like Me

The strawberry rasbora fish in my fish tank stay at the bottom.
They never come to the top for food, kind of annoys me.
I wanted to see them swimming merrily all over the tank.
But … one of them reminds me of me, the rebel one.
He breaks free from the herd, or should I write school?
He marches to that different beat. He drums his independence
from the restrictions of compliance with the other rasboras.
He swims all over the tank unconcerned about the opinions of
the other rasboras enslaved by the pack, or should I write school?
I think the repressed rasboras secretly admire his free spiritedness,
but fear censure from the other fish, rasbora public disapproval.
I salute you free spirit rasbora, escapee from the conformity.

Bob Boyd

Real and Lasting True Love

Remember the song You Didn’t Have to Be so Nice by the Loving Spoonfuls?
That’s how I still feel about you.
You came into my life on a dark, downcast day.
The woman I thought was the love of my life left me, and I felt so down and gloomy.
Until you showed up.
Years later when an auto accident put me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, half a man, felt like killing myself, thought my life was over, and I’d lose you.
Until you showed up.
And loved me even more, always there for me, taking care of me, never leaving me.
And I believe you’ll still be there for me In the afterlife.
When I’ll be a whole man again, and I’ll be there for you; and I’ll love you even more.

Bob Boyd

Not Addicted

No way I’m getting addicted to you
I’ve better things to do,
writing poems like an assembly machine,
mind in the heavens, heart hermetically sealed,
card carrying MGTOW member.

Never ever will I surrender to your
siren-like charms, angelic face,
caring heart, irresistible
inner and outer beauty,
mesmerizing ways ….

Damn! Once again you’ve got me
thinking about you.
But no way I’m getting addicted
I’ve better things to do.

Bob Boyd

Surfer Charisma Death

Like a surfer, he had the look and the mellow attitude, a beach pretty girlfriend too. Peaceful, cheerful, charismatic, fun guy, the best.
An auto accident on a curve, him driving, her dead. After that, surfer charismatic fun guy died inside.
Became dark and sinister, began collecting Nazi memorabilia, praising Hitler. Never understood why he became like a retro Nazi.

The tragic loss of your love caused that dark descent? Maybe it was guilt because you were driving and she died instead of you. Maybe you felt like you killed her, even though it was an accident. I could understand that. Maybe you went mad. You have the love of your young life cruelly snatched away from you. No justice in the universe, at least not for her and you, insane and unjust she was taken from you.

Haven’t seen you in over 50 years. Maybe you’re dead. Maybe you resigned from the quasi Hitler Youth. Maybe you went from the Third Reich to the Holy Cross. Hoping that’s so, rather
than you lost forever in that descending, swastika darkness. Hope you’re In heaven reunited with her. My heart bleeds for you.

Bob Boyd

Rosemary

Edison Lighthouse song, Love Grows
(Where my Rosemary Goes) 1970.
Over 18 million hits on YouTube. Lucky fellas.
Magical, mystical song still popular with those
that hear it. And wow that Rosemary, maybe
ethereal, surely surreal, never forget her.
One in a million, mysterious goddess among women.
Every young man’s dream, greatest fantasy female
ever, song is so clever, makes you believe Rosemary’s
really a goddess, maybe she was. Maybe she still is.
O Rosemary, beautiful, mind blowing, ultimate,
should have been the love of my life, woman,
why did I never meet an amazing, magical,
enchanting woman like you? And like the song says,
“I would have loved you endlessly.”
But woe upon woes, you never existed except
in that beautiful make believe tribute song,
which I will always love, never tire of,
no matter how many times I hear it.
Listening to it now. Love grows….

~Bob Boyd

The Song About the Sun Catching You Crying

Decades ago heard a song about not letting the sun catch you crying. Why not? Wouldn’t the heat of the sun dry your tears, and I don’t think it would care one way or the other if you were crying. Did that song mean it would be better to have the moon catch you crying
when many people and werewolves go bonkers when the moon is full? I truly doubt that. But what if I was crying then? Would the tears turn into
craziness and cause me to do something totally irrational like trying to fly off a tall building like the legendary Superman? Or, does the sun have a problem with overly sentimental people who for human reasons cry now and then. Is it some kind of solar condition that the sun’s allergic to tears? Or is the sun so sentimental that it would cry too if it caught you crying. Is the sun that sensitive, that thin skinned, like some people have skin sensitive to the sun? If I wrote that song, I’d be more concerned about the moon catching people crying, especially a full moon for aforementioned reasons.

Bob Boyd

Ambiguous

Though you’re ambiguous, I think I can work with that,
provided you’re not volatile, rabidly political, or mercenary,
and can endure my rebellious, semi-reclusive, anti-social media,
anti-MSM, anti-nonsense, poetry-writing ways. Besides we both
love helping people, 8th century Chinese poetry, animals, romantic
music, philosophical ponderings, spiritual pursuits, NDES, and Haagen-Dazs ice cream. And if you’re uncompromisingly unambiguous about the Haagen-Dazs, that would probably be enough. If you love that Harris Teeter apple pastry, the name escapes me, but you know the one I mean, that some people say is to die for, and it’s so good some people might have died for it, I honest to God might no prenup propose.

Bob Boyd

Cancer and Women in Dreams

When I had cancer, dreams of women every night.
Angels, spirit guides, soulmate in many guises, something else?
Visiting me in dreams because I was near death?
There to guide me Into the afterlife? Never knew for sure.
When the cancer went into remission, the women in dreams
disappeared, and haven’t been back. Maybe a close call.
But I miss those women in my dreams. And I long for
the unconditional love of the afterlife.

Bob Boyd

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