Category: Poetry

I heard the horrifying howls
That chilled my blood
That terrified me
That froze my body
And I knew another
Person was going to
Be shredded to pieces
On that full moon night
And I knew the beast
Was coming for me
I barred my doors
Locked my windows
Loaded my shogun
With regular bullets
Hoping without silver
My shots could stop him
The werewolf smashed
The door open with ease
And leaped upon me
Before I could shoot
A miracle happened
Huge hairy hands
Pulled him off me
And strangled him
To a whining death
Bigfoot to the rescue

Bob Boyd

I was tired of all the BS about supposed evil dolls,
The nonsense about them being cursed or possessed.
When my aunt a foolish believer in all paranormal things
Bought a raggedy doll named The Evil Victoria,
I guffawed at her paying $1,000 for that obvious fake.
When that healthy woman died of unknown causes
A day later, I didn’t entertain suspicious conclusions.
When my uncle took over store and died the same way,
I more than began to entertain those suspicious conclusions.
And not wanting to see or touch the doll to throw it out,
I torched the store right after my uncle died and left it to me.
It burned to the ground reduced to smoldering ashes,
But that damn doll remained sitting and smiling in a chair
Untouched by the burning flames of the fire.

Bob Boyd

he used to ward off vampires
with his trusty Christian cross

his never failing vampiric repellent
that vanquished those fiends

he’d flash it in their fanged faces
and poof they were done

but a new strain of vampires
were resistant to the cross

one grabbed it out of his hand
and broke it in two pieces

as if it were a flimsy toy
as if it had no more power

his only saving grace
was the stake
he pulled out of his belt
and stabbed the vampire
in the heart with
and prayed the stake
would never lose
its power

the vampire done
melted into the floor
and was no more
far as he knew

Bob Boyd

John Worthington lived in the 12 century.
He never believed the stories about vampires,
nonsense he always decried.

But in the stillness of a foreboding night,
he heard the scream of a damsel attacked.
With his sword drawn, he rushed to her aid
and saw a fang-toothed fiend about to
sink his fangs into her unwilling throat.

The grotesque creature turned and hissed,
bared its fangs and charged at him. Almost
unstrung by that horrifying, menacing sight,
he back up a bit before he regained his nerve
and cleaved the fiend’s head off with his sword.

He carved a stake from a nearby branch of a tree
and slammed it into the undead vampire’s heart.
And he never doubted the existence of vampires again.

Bob Boyd

fifteen-year-old Danny identified as a dog
his parents and his teachers went along with it
even when he barked too loud
at home and in school
he slept in a dog house in his room
he wagged his imaginary tale
his mother fed him soybean doggy bones
his gender fluid girlfriend Emma
took him for walks on a long leash
everything was grand until Danny growled at a pitbull
and the pitbull tore the shit out of him
now Danny identifies as a fire breathing dragon
and plans to scorch that pitbull into oblivion
once he heals from all the torn flesh and the bites

Bob Boyd

He always felt he was connected to the cosmos.
He wondered if he was close to becoming enlightened.
He pondered the mysteries of the universe day and night.
He died without attaining enlightenment.
He needed more incarnations
to climb higher on the evolutionary ladder.
But he’d been preternaturally advanced
for a single-celled amoeba.
Maybe he had buckets of bad karma
in a former life and had to
take a step backward
to atone for heinous behaviors
as that lower rung amoeba
with his human consciousness still intact.
But I’m just guessing.

Bob Boyd

Fred told me
he was going back with Nora.
I cautioned him
it will be great
for about a month
she’ll be changed
you’ll be changed,
a blissful honeymoon
phase.
then Nora and
you will become
your real selves again
and be restuck in the rut
of a rotting relationship.
Fred didn’t take my advice
six months later
Nora drove him crazy
Fred drove Nora crazy
and they broke up again.

Bob Boyd

Full moons had a strange
lunar effect on him.
He wasn’t a werewolf.
He didn’t go bat crap crazy.
He didn’t go temporarily insane,
Or maybe he did a little.
When the moon was full he
claimed to have lived on it
In a long ago former life.
He said the moon had been
Populated millions of years
Ago by inhabitants like him.
He did look a little weird;
So it almost seemed true.
And during those full moons.
He would talk In a strange
language intermittently
Unlike any language on
Earth which made you wonder.

Bob Boyd

My last thought when the vampire bit my jugular vein
And I began to pass out and thought I was going to die.

I came to about an hour later.
I couldn’t believe I was still alive.

But I knew I had been cursed with the vampire virus,
And I hungered for human blood.

Yet somehow I didn’t have it in me to kill another human
Or turn one into a vampire like me.

So I learned to draw my own blood and sate myself on it.

Remembering fictional vampire lore, I decided to look in a mirror
To see if I was there. I wasn’t. Not even a shadow. Not even a trace.

Desperate to try to end the curse, I grabbed the large wooden cross on my wall
And pressed it firmly against my chest and prayed to God
To deliver me from the curse. It didn’t work.

My girlfriend knocked at my door. When I opened it she looked shocked,
Said I looked sick and had a pale, ghoulish complexion.

As I stood there eyeing her jugular vein I became irresistibly driven by a desire
To feed on her rich young blood.

I dastardly mesmerized her rendering her unable to resist my vampiric intentions,
Bit her in the jugular vein and sucked blood out of her.

Curiously, I had no qualms about what I did to her. My conscience had been obliterated.
When my girlfriend came to and displayed her fangs, we went into the night in search of prey.

Bob Boyd

On a creepy night I lay in bed
Foreboding thoughts inside my head
Before I fall into a surreal sleep.

In an unwanted nightmare encounter
I see my dead ex wife shapeshift
Into a red-eyed, menacing demon.

Then she morphs into a night hag
And sits on my comatose-like chest.
My body unable to move,
My mind unable to depart
From the disturbing nightmare,
I scream myself awake.

My senses calmed down
I Remember my dead wife
Dabbled in black magic.
I wonder if she’s become
A demon in some ghastly hell,
And if she’ll haunt and attack me
In another night hag nightmare.

Bob Boyd

A weasilly rabbit trapper tried to ply his trade in a vortex park
unaware of the vortex and the dangers in the park after dark.
He snuck in with his rabbit lures and rabbit traps
oblivious of the high strangeness and the nighttime terrors.
He planted his lures and his traps throughout the terrain.
He twiddled his thumbs and waited for hours in vain.
Then at last! He heard a rabbit squealing and screaming.
He ran to the trap, elated and beaming until he
got sucked into the deadly void of the vortex, the
Trickster and Protector of all animals in the park.

Bob Boyd

he was obsessed with UFOs
his room was decorated
with pictures of them.

he had model UFOs dangling from
his bedroom ceiling.

he talked about UFOs and aliens
all the damn time.

people got bored with him;
they thought he was a kook.

he dreamed of meeting aliens
and taking a ride on a UFO.

one day he said he could
contact aliens,

something he called
close encounters of the fifth kind.

everybody felt he’d gone crazy
talking such nonsense

until they saw a UFO over his house
and they never saw him again.

Bob Boyd

Angela Barnes and her sister Jenny
went hiking in the Yosemite National Park.
Seasoned hikers, they knew what they were doing.
They had all the necessary gear and a Garmin inReach
in case they got lost and had no phone coverage
in the depths of the sprawling national park.
After an hour of hiking, Jenny turned to Angela
to ask her a question and walked into a portal
and completely vanished, as if swallowed by it.
Angela jumped back, screamed, and
hysterically kept calling, “Jenny! Jenny! Jenny! ….”
But Jenny was gone and couldn’t hear her
And became yet another Missing 411.
And Angela still cries whenever she thinks of Jenny.

Bob Boyd

He became so crazed with the
loss of his young, beautiful love
dead at only twenty-two
it seemed like a sin against humanity

he went insane
and dug up her corpse
took it home
embraced it every night
despite the foul decaying odor

maybe because of a strange, romantic fate
maybe because of a rotting corpse disease
he died cradling her in his arms
in his foul-smelling deathbed

Bob Boyd

he takes pills everyday
to keep himself alive
to keep the pain away
to keep a stroke from
numbing his mind or
killing him completely

sometimes he wonders
if all those pills are
worth living a little longer
or if he should chuck
the pills and let mother
nature embrace him to
death in her arms

Bob Boyd

he felt sorry for her having
had cancer three times

he also admired her
she was a warrior

she was sweet and
so nice to talk to

she wasn’t born a looker
but looked good enough

he suggested they
correspond by email

she smiled and wrote
down his email

he was so much older
than her

so he didn’t expect
anything romantic

she never emailed him
he wasn’t disappointed

he was old enough to
be her grandfather

he understood she
was probably not good with it

and changed her mind
about emailing him

and he knew with hindsight
he was better off without it

Bob Boyd

Milly told me she had
butterflies for pets.

Surprised, I wondered
where she kept them.

When I got to apartment
and she opened the door

her apartment was full
of hundreds of butterflies.

Sure it looked cool, but
it was all too much for me.

I left her with some of
her butterflies flying
behind me.

Cool to see, but way
too much for me.

Bob Boyd

In ancient China poetry was revered,
Seemingly more than today,
618-907 CE Tang Dynasty days,
High age of Chinese aristocracy,
Dream times for talented poets.
Du fu, Li Po, Want Wei and more
How I love those poets.

Bob Boyd

He never had any affection;
nobody gave it to him.
Unwanted as a baby,
sent to an orphanage.
Had to make his way
in his life alone
and unloved.
Than he met
a beautiful woman
who saw the untapped
love inside of him and
gave him so much
affection it made up
for the lack of it
in his lovelorn life.

Bob Boyd

Sad days and heartaches everyday
happen all over this uncertain world.
It doesn’t matter if you’re an optimist
and always see the good in it.
It doesn’t make any difference;
It doesn’t lighten the weighty load
of all the suffering and sorrow
in this ever troubled existence.
But it can lighten one’s load
if one can rise above the sorrows
And roll with the heartaches
and, to quote Apostle Paul,
“fight the good fight.” And keep at it
till the end of your remaining days

Bob Boyd