Poems by Bob Boyd

Sometimes I wonder how Pat Curran is doing now
I wonder if she is still alive or gone to the Great Unknown 
She was my sweetheart when we were both sweet sixteen
Blonde and beautiful, she caught my attention at a YMCA Teen Dance
With a single close dance, magical things happened, my heart in flight
I felt romantic love bloom; she did too, in our tender sweet innocence
But, woe, she was from Montclair, New Jersey and I was from Woburn, Mass
At least we had romantically amazing summers together; she stayed with a relative then
A song You Belong To Me was our song; our hearts chimed to it, we lived it
But, oh God, those falls, winters and springs were so unbearably cold without her
Summers were never as warm and exciting and as euphoric for me 
Her hugs and her kisses launched my heart into a heaven like place 
The sight of her so amazingly beautiful, so perfect in all ways 
Made me feel like I’d won the biggest romantic lottery ever
And, guess what? We had vowed to marry when we grew older
A fairy tale happy ever after teenage dream I always had
Finding the right girl in high school and being with her forever
But, woe, then came the final summer when the weather cooled off
And she dropped a bomb on me that blew up my heart and ended our love
She told me she was sorry she was seeing a freshman at Rutgers U.
I bawled my brains out, my heart sank like the Titanic; I didn’t want to live
My dreams dead, my fairy tale romantic notions shattered, nothing mattered
But, hey, who hasn’t lost a love and who, like me, didn’t get over it
Still sometimes I wonder how Pat Curran is doing now.   

Bob Boyd

I don’t care about her wrinkles
She is still beautiful to me
Her inner beauty is forever
My love for her is too.

Bob Boyd

The rush. The joy. The heaven.
Of a new love.
Incomparable. Joyous. Ecstatic. 
Pity like life
It’s impermanent.
Though love remains.
It never reaches those 
Rapturous heights of   
The newness again.

Bob Boyd

Supposedly people can create thought
form entities, tulpas, usually in human
form with one’s mind through concentration 
and visualization.

Tibetan monks are said to have created 
tulpas to rid them of attachments
impeding their spiritual progress, seemingly
kind of like a temporary helper that was
disposed of when the attachment was
dispelled.

Long ago, I read of a black magic magician
creating familiars in the same way, for what
I do not know. I suspect for nefarious 
purposes, if real thought form entities can
be created with one’s mind.

Now there are people creating tulpas for
companionship. There’s even a website with
a forum about creating tulpas and other
facets of having one as a friend.

I don’t know if tulpas are real or imaginary,
but people who create them believe they
are sentient. 

Maybe they are right. Maybe one can create
a tulpa with the power of one’s mind. I don’t 
believe it’s possible, but I could be wrong. 

Bob Boyd

Once beautiful, young and sprightly
Seemed like they’d be young forever, 
like silver screen immortals.

No longer beautiful, young and sprightly,
old and only silver screen images now,
breaking hips from falls, many dead.

If only they could have been immortals,
beautiful, young and sprightly forever.

Bob Boyd

sitting here
thinking about
my life that’s past
remembering women
I’ve been with
too many to recall
them all
none lasted
beyond seven years
few stand out
none I’d want
to be with again
sometimes I think
if only I could
have a redo 
and maybe find
lasting love
at other times
I think 
gain the nonattachment
of a Buddhist monk
and forget about 
women and 
lasting love

Bob Boyd

Some people seem to thrive on
arguments
word duels on x and elsewhere
I’ve no time
no patience for that
besides arguments
usually amount to nothing
disruptive
wastes of time
as for trolls
the saying
don’t feed the trolls
seems wise
better, if able,
shut them down
delete them if
you control the media
you might indulge
in arguments
as for me
I’ve better things to do
and in the grander
scheme of things
they really have
no relevance

Bob Boyd

seconds
minutes
hours
days
weeks
months
years
lives
everything
all
eventually
gone
forever
sometimes
I feel
I’ve learned
the point of
it all
the TRUTH
from
NDEs
Eastern
Western
philosophies
but
then I
realize
even these
sources
could be
entirely
wrong
as time
and my
time
passes by
and is no
more
it’s all
so fleeting

Bob Boyd

When I was a teenager
I wanted to be a rockstar,
which in retrospect was
a foolish dream for me.

I had no talent for singing
and didn’t have the patience
to learn how to play a
musical instrument.

And unknown to me back
then, I wouldn’t have liked
all the traveling, probably
would have burned out
on it after six months.

And unknown to me back
then, many rockstars have
died young, often from
drug overdoses.

Had I the talent for singing
and the patience to learn
how to play a musical
instrument, I easily could
have been one of them.

Bob Boyd

I’ve been seeing women in dreams again
nearly every night.
Saw them like this when I had cancer,
thought maybe they were there
because I was close to death.
Not sure what it means,
but the dreams are nice.
Maybe I’m close to death again
and they are back to guide me
into the afterlife.
I doubt that I’m close to death.
I feel far too good.
But death has a way of
sneaking up on you and
sometimes taking you out
when you least expect it.

Bob Boyd