Category: Poetry

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Mortality

The clock is ticking. Your life is running out.
Is that important or a thought avoided by you,
Your inescapable, destined demise?
Or most of the time do you fool yourself
Unconsciously feeling like you’ll live forever
Even though sometimes you wake up
And your mortality briefly makes you uneasy
Quickly suppressed, hidden in your mind
Too dreadful a reality to dwell upon.
Till a life threatening medical condition
Invades your body and your anxious mind
And your mortality becomes front and center.
But that possible clock stop can be liberating,
A time for great personal and spiritual growth.

Bob Boyd

Separation

They’d been together 44 years
until at age 70 when
her mind began to slip
and blanked out.

Then it became like
they were no
longer together –
she didn’t know him
anymore.

His heart broke at
her loss of memory,
her loss of self
recognition.

He still loved her, but
she no longer loved him or
knew who he was. Love was not
supposed to be like that.

Bob Boyd

Rasboras

Rasboras, rasboras, why is your species always on the bottom of my aquarium?
Plentiful food carefully scattered on surface of the aquarium, ignored by you.
How do you keep from starving? I never see you eat.
Since you remain alive and don’t get emaciated.
You must, no offense, be bottom feeders subsisting on fallen flakes from the surface table.
But why not go first class and swim to the top and enjoy the full buffet?
In truth, you’re a never ending submerged mystery to me.
Thought you’d be all over the tank like a bright tailed, rambunctious guppy.
You just scurry around barely above the bottom, otherwise you seem to be hiding.
A snail is more fun, a turtle more active. Maybe you’re just shy.
Despite those seeming drawbacks, you have an uncanny appeal.
Your swimming is unconventional, you dart instead of true swimming.
And unlike duller colored fish, you are an attractive strawberry color.
And I must admit in rare moments I do see you dart almost to the surface.
Maybe one of you is an anomaly or a rebel rebelling, who occasionally breaks free.
Fun to watch, cool to see, rasboras, rasboras.

Bob Boyd

Old Single Women Nonsense

Tired of old single women
I’m too old for their nonsense
lack the patience, won’t engage,
better an old monk poet,
and compassionate helper.

Sticking with poetry and Service —
loves of my life, writing poems,
helping people.

Blissful with the right woman,
finding one at my age,
risks of ongoing drama,
tensions, disappointments,
ripples in my unperturbed
tranquility.

I don’t take these women
seriously; some far too
young; some touched me,
as if interested,
means nothing,
foolish girly games
too old to play.

Having a quiet peaceful life.
raising the MGTOW banner
going full monk mode,
maybe better luck in
the afterlife, a soulmate
awaiting me, my heart,
my mind, free of the
old single woman
nonsense here.

Bob Boyd

A Good Catch

Leslie had no time for Winston,
His flashy cars, his inheirited wealth, his bragging
His big balance credit cards, his designer clothes,
Meant nothing to her.

Nancy, a different breed,
A keen eye for self-enrichment,
Saw the benefits, the monied life,
Overlooked the negatives, worth the sacrifice.

Leslie married a male social worker,
Who aiding the poor, the disabled, the elderly,
More about Service to others than the money.
They didn’t have the rich trappngs;
They had the true love.

Nancy married Winston, a lavish wedding,
Landed the big fish, mined the gold,
Lived the abundant, material life,
Got everything she wanted …
Except true love.

Bob Boyd

Aliens As Us In Time Machines

Consider the theory that aliens are the future us,
A curious evolutionary leap, more so than
Cro-Magnons to our current refined appearances.
Imagine future humans, theorized to look like this:
Reconfigured faces and bodies in a far future,
Larger heads, bigger brains, oval eyes, thinner bodies,
Navigating the past in saucer-shaped time machines.
Perhaps traveling back in time but for what,
An attempt to reshape humanity’s future
Stop a nuclear war that would kill off many of us?
And why so mysterious and obscure?
If the theory is remotely plausible
And speaking of time, maybe, as the saying goes
Time will tell.

Bob Boyd

Earth’s Burdens

As I grow older life speeds up as I slow down.
I imagine the planet spinning faster, unfelt by me,
Except for the faster time and my slower life.
Maybe me going slower to stay balanced in
The whirlwind cycles of impatient earth,
I imagine impatient to see another human gone,
A life spun away into an ever lighter corpse,
Less weight for earth to carry.
Another burdensome human gone,
The planet spins on.

Bob Boyd

Aliens Under The Sea

Aliens in spacecrafts
flying in and
out of the sea
real or utter bunk
credible witnesses
seemingly
but man made
or extraterrestrial
If aliens, grays,
tall whites
reptilians or
little green men?
An agreeable
mystery to me
I’m beginning to
like bizarre
theories and beliefs
Fills a little time
with fascinating
stories and claims
like all these Bigfoot
sightings with no
body alive or dead
and no irrefutable proof.
But back to seagoing
Alien air and sea crafts
Here’s another theory
maybe AI robots
collecting whatever
from the sea and
as unable to communicate
with us as a kid’s
windup toy.
Or maybe they’re
interdimensional.

Bob Boyd

Clinically Dead Never More Alive

Spoke to one of the post clinically dead
yesterday.

She can’t wait to go back to the Light
and the Love.

I yearn to go there too and experience
the wonders of the Light and the Love

beyond this often unfair, sometimes
dangerous, coin toss life.

Too many things in this impermanent
world I no longer like.

Let me fly to the higher one in a
heavenbound kite.

And bask in the Light of eternal
peace.

To live forever in the unimaginable,
the no one wants to leave it, the
unconditional Love.

Bob Boyd

Angela

At first you seemed angelic,
your face, your voice, even
your name.

But when you got
comfortable the darkness
crawled out of your soul.

Even your angel face
changed, eyes in unguarded
moments evil.

At times your voice
lost its sweetness,
sounded malevolent.

And you became
insanely jealous
of Gina, my coworker,

culminating in you
enraged and armed shooting
her and me at work.

I survived, Gina didn’t.
you vanished, and the
police learned

your MO was to get insanely
jealous and kill any
perceived rivals,

six in five states, reinventing
yourself with different names
and disguises each kill.

I don’t know if there’s a hell
but I believe you’ll be
somewhere like that

when you die, probably a
horrible death, and that’s
revenge enough for me.

Bob Boyd

Crime Show

At first phenomenal love
then nuptial bliss and two kids
years later passions refrigerated
boredom on front burner
dalliances, hers and his.

Affairs discovered
divorce lawyers consulted
custody battle for kids
bitter wife and paramour
plan permanent solution
kill husband get kids
and her insurance money
husband forgot to fix.

Met with recommended hitman
undercover cop.

Bob Boyd

A Granny Is Good Enough For Me

why you liking on grannies
benny said i said at 78 i’m too
damn old for pretty young things
you got to get realistic when
your testosterone is practically
on life support and your mojo
is nearly on empty and you ain’t
what you once was when you
could party all night and without
sleep work all day with barely
a yawn what do you want me
to do party all night and wreck
myself and be the no fool like the
old fool and be fooling myself
with a pretty young thing young
enough to be my granddaughter
hell at my old age even being
with a woman of 50 is like
robbing the cradle besides
with a cool granny I can
reminisce about woodstock
love ins psychedelic music the
peace and love days and
nights of the age of aquarius
the beatles white album
getting back to the garden
being bummed out turned on
and heavy and outasight
and groovy and going to
california with flowers in
our hair so give me a fine
as vintaged wine old granny
and let’s make rock and roll
love till those cows in woodstock
come home and those chickens
come home to roost – if we
can without busting hips
bursting varicose veins and
increasing aches and pains
excuse me gotta go late for
my hot date at the nursing home.

Bob Boyd

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