Category: Poetry

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

The young moth was a daredevil
He loved flirting with death
To impress the other moths
Particularly the female ones
One night he daringly dive bombed
An old 1985 Buick on Highway 66
Intending to miss it by a moth’s hair
But lost his thrillseeker focus
When a female moth rustled her wings
Flirting with dashing handsome him
And he became moth splatter
On the old Buick’s windshield

Bob Boyd

He used to love hunting, bagging bears and deers
Every exciting hunting season.
Until he saw some of his kills in a nightmare.
Somehow they had guns and shot him in the chest.
He woke up in a cold sweat relieved it was just a dream
Until he suffered a massive heart attack,
Feeling like he had been shotgunned in the chest,
He barely survived the heart attack and never hunted again.

Bob Boyd

As a kid of ten years of age,
He liked working in his father’s little candy store,
Selling candy to adults and children,
Making people happy with delicious sweets.
As an adult of twenty years of age,
He made it big in the movies in Hollywood,
Acted in many starring roles on the silver screen,
Enjoyed entertaining people in the movies and on TV.
Eventually he tired of Hollywood and all the plastic people.
He realized he didn’t belong there and left the bright lights.
He returned to the little town he was born in
And opened his own little candy store.

Bob Boyd

Too late
She realized
She shouldn’t
Have been
Jogging alone
That scary
Half moon
Night

When he
Leaped out
Of the shadows
Grabbed her
Violated her
And killed her

Too late
For her
To ever
Live and
Breath and
Jog again

Bob Boyd

She dreamed she was a butterfly
Dancing in the air above a field of flowers
When she woke up it took a moment
To realize she was really a human
Then as if peering through a telescope
Back ions through time and space
She saw in her mind’s eye
That she had been
A beautiful butterfly
In a former life
And that explained to her why she
Was always so drawn to butterflies
And kept a butterfly farm
And she felt at one with the universe
And all creatures and things

Bob Boyd

She no longer loved him
But she stayed with him
His money was worth it
Despite her loveless
Unfulling marriage
That got old so fast
The money made it last
And last and last
Until he died at 93
And she was 73 and
Became reflective
And cried and cried
And cried over wasting
All those years for money
When in her youth and
With her beauty she
Could have had a shot
At true lasting love

Bob Boyd

He sits alone at his computer,
An old man love has forsaken.
No one knocks at his door.
No one visits him.
No one cares about him.
An introvert, he’s okay
With all of that.
Besides, he is just
Waiting around to die.
Everything else has
Become insignificant
To him in his final years,
Except eating ice cream
And sweet pumpkin pie.

Bob Boyd

The old man takes his daily walk on Washington Street
In New York City
A resident of eighty-four years, he’s saddened by the changes.
The quality of the city has gone down. Crime has gone up.
The Big Apple has had a chunk bitten out of it,
But he thinks to himself at least today is a great day.
The sun is shining, clouds are billowing, and he’s feeling good.
Then BAM a young thug knocks the old man out.
He falls to the street on his head and never gets up.
All his musings. All his memories. And his life. Are done.
And the Big Apple has become a little more rotten to the core.

Bob Boyd

Tired of his country’s dissolution
And the fake MSM propaganda
And all the disturbing news
He hightailed it to the mountains
Hid himself from the fractures
Of his country falling apart
And lived off the fertile land
Like a frontiersman of old
Hunting and fishing
And growing his own food
Oblivious to the outside world
Never read or listened to
The clamorous fake news
Had no internet
No radio or TV
Freed from the turmoil
Safe when the bombs fell
And decimated half of
His vulnerable country
And enemies took it over
Never affected by any of it
Died a free man

Bob Boyd

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

She always had to
Be in the spotlight
I never understood her
Need for so much attention
At first I thought I could endure it
In time I wearied of it
And she wearied of my
Abhorrence of the spotlight
Disdain of the attention
Had I been less needy
I would have seen the
Incompatibility before
I got involved with her
But, alas, I was lonely
And naively thought
I could make it work
Lesson learned
Be more aware
Going in

Bob Boyd

He feels like he’s going to live forever.
He forgets that happens never.
Once in a while he remembers
That he lives his life on a thread,
That one day will unexpectedly snap
And end his life forever.
He blocks that out of his mind
And goes on feeling like he’s living forever,
Again forgetting that happens never
He has no time to think of dying
He’s too consumed with living.
But tragically for him
A terminal cancer is stealthily
Sneaking into his waning life,
And soon will make its presence
Painfully clear to a shocked him.
And he will be aware 24/7 that
Living forever happens never.

Bob Boyd

Watch out!
Take heed!
Be vigilant.
Be careful.
Avoid
Dangerous
Places.
It’s risky,
This living.
And someone
Is after you.
You don’t
Know his
Name but
He knows
You.
And he
Never fails
When he
Makes
His kill.
He’s already
Planned the
Day and the
Hour he’s
Coming for
You.
Here’s a hint.
His first name
Is Grim.

Bob Boyd

A mother and daughter killed by a falling tree in a park.

An elderly woman falls on her bathroom floor and dies.

A truck smashes into a driving instructor, and he dies in the ER.

A young woman gets pushed in front of a subway in NYC and is killed instantly.

A girl falls off a rambunctious, whining horse and loses her young life.

A random bullet in a driveby kills a little boy.

An iron worker falls off a tall building and is splattered to death on the concrete street.

A teenage football player dies of a heart attack after a game.

An old man taking a stroll in a big city is murdered by a knockout punch by a young thug.

Random deaths everyday everywhere. What’s the point of it all? Are those condoned by the powers that be – or are they just random events in an unpredictable, uncaring world?

Bob Boyd

The stars aren’t shining quite as bright tonight
For the irreplaceable Judy Smith has died.
Unknown to the world, known only to friends and family
A beacon of love to those who knew her.
Compassionate, kind and giving,
Noble, principled and inspiring,
She left a wonderful, quiet legacy in this world,
Unmatched by the well knowns and the attention seekers
Farewell Judy Smith. Heaven is lucky to have you.

Bob Boyd

I never believed in werewolves
Until I took a casual stroll
One night in the peaceful scenic
Country Park in Greensboro, NC.
I’d hiked the trail once before
But not in the dark of night
When the moon was full and bright.

I don’t know what possessed me
To hike there after dark that night.
I remember a tall, muscular guy
Wearing a hat with a light on it
Jogged by me and said hello.
I perceived he ran a lot in the dark
To be wearing a hat with a light.

Minutes later I heard godawful
Howls shattering the peace of
What had become an eerie night.
I heard the cracking of bones,
The gnashing of teeth and saw
Werewolves tearing the jogger
Apart in the full moon light.

Distracted, they didn’t see me
As I ran the hell out of the park
And will never go there again.
I thought about reporting the
Incident to the police, but
changed my mind when I
knew they’d think I was crazy
Or a suspect when they found
The jogger’s mutilated body.

So I buried the tale in the depths of
My mind, but once in a while
That horror resurfaces in me,
And I tremble and nearly pass out.

Bob Boyd

She shows off her body on porn sites
And feels not a bit of guilt about it.
Makes loads of money paid by fools
And feels no shame about it.
The money is more important
Than her nonexistent morals,
Her soiled reputation.

She even brazenly brags
About all the money she makes
Revealing her intimate parts.
Maybe one day she’ll regret
How she cheapened herself.
But she loves the money,
And all the things she can buy
Way too much for any guilt
About how she has
Compromised herself.

Bob Boyd

Norma never needed a man.
Her career was more important,
And a man would get in the way
Of her climb up the corporate ladder,
Of her shattering the glass ceiling.
Many men asked her out
But her career was more important.
She attained an executive position,
Made a handsome six figure income.
At age fifty she began wanting a man
And bemoaned what she missed,
A family, a house, and children.
But men no longer desired her,
And they no longer asked her out.

Bob Boyd

Fireflies in summer nights
Flashing your mating lights
Like others in this creation
You seem to exist to mate
Solely to mass procreate
Probably you mate for life
Unlike more complicated
Human men and women
Many of whom separate
After they procreate
Their mating lights
Extinguished

Bob Boyd