Category: Poems

When his girlfriend left him for another man,
the surprise and the shock of it made him crazy.
The rage inside him burned like a flaming furnace.
Many times he imagined killing her for what she’d done.
He bought a Glock 19 pistol, learned how to use it.
He knew the hours she worked at her supermarket job
and waited for her outside one night at 9 pm in his car.
When she exited the supermarket, he jumped out of his car
and told her she was going to die until he changed his mind
and put the pistol to his head and killed himself instead.

Bob Boyd

He spent weeks in solitary
confinement nearly going
insane until he figured out
how to save his sanity.

He pretended he was on
a magic raft traveling
all over the sea and to
various countries and
having many adventures.

He got so good at
imagining his seafarer
trips that he didn’t mind
solitary at all and enjoyed
his daily imaginations.

After he got out of solitary,
he became a great writer
writing books about his
solitary confinement
imaginings.

Bob Boyd

Killing and dying shouldn’t be happening for
as long as humans have been on earth.

Humans should have been evolved past such
wasteful violence.

Yet, here we are with wars still happening,
and I think they will keep happening

maybe until every last human is obliterated
into absolute oblivion.

Bob Boyd

Because I’m old now, time
rushes by, as if it’s in a hurry
for me to die.

I didn’t want to know my dying
date when I was young, but
I’d kinda like to know it now.

That way I could plan ahead
and probably eat more ice cream,
pastries, and chocolate before
I died.

Maybe I’d do some important
things, but I can’t think of any
right now.

And at this age, it wouldn’t
frightened me to know my dying
day, and I’m good with expiring.

My hope is I’ll die by 85 instead
of 99 because the older you
grow, the longer it takes for you
to die, the more impaired you
will become.

And maybe you’ll lose your mind
to a dementia or Alzheimer’s,
so please God let me die at 85.

Bob Boyd

August is here
soon the fall
winter following
the cold, the snow
I like the challenge
of living with
the winter cold
using less heat
a challenge to me
this winter I’m
getting a bed tent
like camping in
the cold outside
but with the warmth
concentrated in a
smaller space
in my bedroom
a challenge to me
an experiment I
can’t wait to try
if it fails at
least I won’t die

Bob Boyd

Once they seemed like friends to you.
You thought they’d stay in touch.

But they never did and didn’t really
care about you or your life.

And when you die, they probably
won’t even know it. And if they do

if will be barely like a ho hum,
those who once seemed like friends.

And when you wake up and realize
this, you will feel the same way

about them and won’t know when
they have died and left this world.

Perhaps that’s the way it’s meant to be.
Maybe things will be different in the

coming afterlife for them and for me.

Bob Boyd

This seems fair. To me it seems just that
you kill the predator of your prized pigeons.

But, alas, hawks are protected by Federal Laws,
and if you kill one in Florida, you could be fined

up to $10,000 and put in jail of up to six months,
and you may be prohibited from racing or

exhibiting your pigeons ever again. I find that
unjust. It gives the hawk free reign in slautering

your pigeons. And it is nonsensical that a hawk
is allowed to slaughter one’s pigeon.

It makes no goddamn sense is what I’m trying
to say in the proverbial plain English.

And outrageous that the owner of racing pigeons
gets screwed over in the courts of law.

And the hawk can go on killing prized racing
pigeons with impunity. That law needs to change.

Bob Boyd

Leah lived in the background of her prettier sister’s life.
Her parents favored her sister. She was more popular
in school. And she got better grades than Leah did.
Leah suffered from an inferiority complex and she
blamed her sister for it. One day her pretty sister
disappeared and was found drowned in a nearby lake.
And the police called it accidental. Only Leah knew it
was no accident, and her life got better thereafter.

Bob Boyd

Just as he peers out of his bedroom window
he sees the moon is full

as if on cue, he hears the werewolf howling
not far from his house

the howls keep growing louder
nearer

he has wolfsbane planted around his home
a protective barrier

sprinkled salt surrounds his house too
supposedly it wards of werewolves

he has garlic hanging on the doors
and the windows

he has silver items on his person
another alleged werewolf repellent

a crucifix hangs around his neck
he’s hoping that will work too

he’s new at staving off werewolves
crosses his fingers for luck

and hopes those werewolf repellents work
that he read about in a book

but luck was not with him that night
the repellents were just ineffective folk tales

the werewolf, a spurned ex girlfriend, broke into
his home, tore him to shreds

in the last moments of his screaming, terrifying death
he regretted he didn’t buy the gun and silver bullets .

Bob Boyd

You’re wasting your love on that woman,
but you cannot see that yet

you’re enamored with her honeysuckle
southern accent and her bewitching beauty

you don’t know it yet because she’s hiding
her dark nature

a year from now she will steal some of your money
and be messing with a married man

you will leave her with your heart broken
and your mind in tatters

and, believe me, you won’t forget her
she’ll be unforgettable in your memory banks

filed under good times and bad times with
a deceitful southern woman

Bob Boyd