Poems by Bob Boyd

He met her in a dream,
a pretty woman with black hair,
blue eyes, and a nice smile.
She said her name was Adaline,
and she worked making donuts
in a donuts shop.

Though a dream, Adaline seemed
real life, but she turned into
a psycho woman,laughed like an
evil maniac, and raised a knife
above her head to stab him with.

He woke up horrified, and it
took a minute before he
realized it had only been
a nightmare, and he hadn’t
been stabbed.

He thought he dreamed of the
evil donut woman because
he had been wanting a donut
from the donuts shop not far
from where he lived before
he went to bed that night. But
he was too tired to drive to it.

He drove to the donuts shop that
morning. Police cars were all
around it, and it was closed.
Later on the nightly news, he
learned a new female employee
named Adaline had gone crazy and
stabbed the shop owner to death.
She looked like the Adaline in his
dream, and, luckily, he never saw
her in a dream again.

Bob Boyd

If there really are soulmates, they’re disappointingly
elusive for many, maybe most.

So many people never find them. They think they
have, but then things go bust,

and they realize their soulmates were illusionary,
and they are alone again.

My fervent hope is soulmates are real and
waiting for us in the afterlife

with a fairytale ending and the happily in love
ever after.

But more likely I’m being foolish, and there
probably aren’t any soulmates, only illusions.

Bob Boyd

She wore earrings that were longer than
usual earrings,

and I loved the way they looked on her,
elegant, classy and oh so stylish.

I would have loved her too, and she
had a sweet crush on me,

but I was born decades too early for her,
and I couldn’t cross that decades-long line.

But I wish I could have been nearer her age
because along with the earrings she had

the sweetest voice I’d ever heard, and she
was petite and adorable.

But, alas, the years between us were more
than 40, and it would have been unfair to her.

Bob Boyd

On her YouTube channel she fearlessly explores haunted locations, says she was married to a ghost.

She’s uniquely lovely to look at with an English accent and
impressive eloquence.

I think she might have been married to a ghost the way she doesn’t get totally freaked out by them.

But if she wasn’t and she just did a publicity stunt that got
her tons of attention,

If she just made the marriage up, I’m fine with that because
good on her for pulling it off and no harm done.

She goes by the name Brocarde and has beautiful,long
raven black hair and mystical, blue eyes.

Eyes that look like they might have second sight capable
of even seeing ghosts.

You can find her at her YouTube page, Brocade, and you will
see she’s exactly as I have described her.

Bob Boyd

If you like poems about the paranormal, consider seeing my Bigfoot Poetry Blog with fiction and nonfiction poems about Bigfoot.

When he first fell in love with her, he told her he loved her
so much that he would die for her.
Little did he know that was prophetic.
He had a great pizza restaurant he called Gino’s Pizzeria.
People liked his pizza so much that he made a lot
of money with his special Italian pizza recipe.
He opened ten more pizzerias and got rich.
But all those pizzerias required so much of his time
that his wife got lonely being by herself too much.
And eventually she got a lover that kept asking her
to divorce her pizzeria husband.
But she came up with a better idea related to the
her husband’s million dollar insurance policy
with her as the sole beneficiary.
She lied to her lover, an ex con laborer, said her
husband beat her up all the time.
The ex con laborer murdered her husband, buried his
body at a construction site where a concrete
foundation was going to be poured the next day.
And her husband’s declaration that he would die
for her became more true than he had ever imagined.

Bob Boyd

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

I just remembered an event from my past
when I was often partying and drunk
a friend I knew introduced me to a woman
in a bar and we seemed to have simpatico
she gave me her phone number and I
thought maybe we’d go out on a date
but when I called the number the next
day it was a wrong number
pondering that event I think it was
for the best since she was deceptive
and even if it worked out we probabaly
would have broken up anyway
a heartache I wouldn’t have needed
and I’m not eating sour grapes

Bob Boyd

People fighting, women screaming,
it’s a wild weekend night in Sheffield, England
police all over the streets quelling the mayhem
one erratic man keeps taunting the police
shouts at them and asks them to arrest him
and he’s acting like he’s on an amphetamine
surprisingly he doesn’t get his wish
an inebriated woman yelling and restrained
by three police gets escorted into a police van
what a waste of her femininity
I remember when police vans were paddy wagons
and not as many women got drunk on their asses
a skinny guy with his shirt off is acting crazy
as if he wants to fight someone while a man
plays a mellow song with a guitar in the background
the skinny guy puts his shirt back on
later the police pin him against a wall and probably
arrest him and stuff him in the van too
I think he had too much to drink and got beer muscles
a crowd of men about to fight are separated
by other men before police rush in and quell the craziness
I’m glad I’m not in Sheffield tonight
it’s too out of control and two many crazies are in the streets
in must be a full moon in Sheffield
for such a wild weekend night of mayhem there
I’m glad I’m at my computer far away from it

Bob Boyd

I remember her briefly.
She came to work at
the same place I did.
She seemed nice.
She seemed normal.
Then a week later
she didn’t show up
for work, and I learned
she had killed herself.
I couldn’t believe it.
She didn’t seem as
if she was suicidal. I
don’t know how she
killed herself, and I
really didn’t want to
know, but so sad she
did it. So sad she died.
I hope she went to a
heavenly place where
she could be happy
and be healed.

Bob Boyd

Have you any idea why a guy would say a man
who died was a lucky bastard?

Of course it sounds contrary. How could someone
that died be a lucky bastard?

The answer is he had died himself, but temporarily,
and what he saw and experienced

made him want to stay dead forever in the place
of bliss and love that he was in.

So to him, someone who got there permanently
was a lucky bastard.

And I tend to believe he was right and that what
he said was true.

Bob Boyd

When I met with Mark, he said
he had an AI girlfriend. I thought
he was kidding until he took out
his cell phone and introducted
her to me. She sounded and
talked so much like a human
that I thought he was kidding.
After a while, I realized he was
serious, and that the voice was
an AI girlfriend.

I spent an hour talking to him
and her. After that I could see
what he saw in her, and I wished
him well. Surprised by his choice
a machine over a real woman,
I did a lot of thinking about it.
I concluded if an AI girlfriend
made him happy, why not.
That was six years ago, and
Mark is still happy and in love
with his AI girlfriend. And I have
to admit, he’s had better luck
with her than I have had with
real women.

Bob Boyd