When My Bride to Be Got Attacked by a Werewolf

It was like something out of a horror movie
when my bride to be was in the hospital
hysterical and attacked by a monstrous beast
that the doctors thought had been a bear.

She was lucky, only a wound. But her mind
was terribly traumatized. The psychological
wound was worse.

Things got worse weeks later when a full
moon lit up the night sky and my bride to
be screamed at me to get out of her
apartment before I died.

I didn’t take her seriously at first. But when
she howled and began to morph into what
I realized was a werewolf, though shocked
and terrified, I could not leave her,
my bride to be.

Perhaps God was on my side that night. When
she fully morphed into that giant howling
nightmare, a real life horror, she spared me,
ran past me and into the forest behind her
house.

My bride to be broke off our engagement after
that, refused to see me. And I kept hearing of
people torn to shreds on the news during
full moon nights.

Though it broke my heart, I knew what I had to do,
a gun and silver bullets.

One night as the moon was becoming full, I broke
into her home just as she was howling and morphing.
I aimed my gun at what was no longer her, that
giant hairy beast with evil eyes that radiated death,
but I didn’t have the heart to pull the trigger.

I dropped the gun because though she had become
a monster, something in me still loved her.
I think even in her morphed monster form,
she still loved me and spared me with
only a bite instead of tearing me to pieces.

Now she is my bride to be again, werewolves
in love forever.

Bob Boyd

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Underdogs and Antiheroes

I like underdogs and antiheroes
I like them more than winners
and heroes.

I like seeing losers become
winners and the unlikely
become heroes.

I love the movies where they
are uplifted and glorified.

It’s wonderfully inspiring to see
characters like many, or most,
of us prevail in the challenges
and hard times of life.

Maybe I like underdogs and antiheroes
because I was an underdog in high school
and some teachers thought I end up
in jail because I was so troublesome.

Maybe because I proved them wrong
never spent a day in jail, never
committed a crime.

Spent the remainder of my work
history like an underdog reborn as a
nobler dog

for decades helping numerous
elderly people with their needs,
consoling them and brightening their
waning and often sad days.

But whatever the reason why, I’ll
always be rooting for underdogs
and antiheroes.

Bob Boyd

The Man From Looneyville, Texas

He came from Looneyville, Texas,
and he damn sure lived up to its name,
traveled all over the country doing crazy things.
He got drunk and kissed cars in Punta Gorda, Fla,
thrown in the pokey for public intoxication.
Somersaulted off a train in Little Rock, Ak,
broke an arm and nearly died.
Howled at the moon in San Fran, Ca,
got arrested for disturbing the peace.
Last I heard he moved to Odd, Wv,
felt it was a place where he could fit in,
marry a like minded wife and raise
a family of sixteen crazy kids.

Bob Boyd

Saw Bigfoot Reading a Book of My Poems

On a trek through a nearby forest
spied Bigfoot sitting on a boulder
reading a book of my poems.
Having seen Bigfoot a number of
times before, I wasn’t surprised.

I was surprised seeing him
reading with eyeglasses on.
I didn’t know he needed eyeglasses
for reading, and I wondered where
he got the prescription for them.

I was more surprised to see him
reading a book of poems by me
since I’ve never published a book
of my poems and don’t care to.

I could only speculate somehow he
took the unauthorized liberty of
publishing them himself.

I know what you’re thinking. It’s
absurd to think of that hairy beast
having the ability to print a book.

To which I must retort, you have
no idea of the magical things that
Bigfoot can do, and, by the way,
he’s not just a hairy beast.

Just as I was about to ask him
where the hell did he get a book
of poems I’d never published,
a portal appeared. Bigfoot laughed,
waved, and disappeared into it.

I tried to follow him to catch that
rascal, but the portal evaporated
just as I tried to enter it.

And the mystery of how Bigfoot
was reading a book of my poems
I never had published perplexed me
for a few weeks.

After pondering the anomaly
extensively day and night, now
my guess is with his paranormal
powers he probably psychically
manifested the book just to,
per usual, play a prank on me.

Bob Boyd

Never Had a Love of My Life

Twice I thought I’d found the love of my life.
Number one when I was a troubled teenager
(but with a heart that was true and a
gentleman to women)
who lived in New Jersey and I lived in Mass.

After about a year, she cheated on me with
a college guy, broke my heart, and ended
my feelings, my love, for her forever.

Number two was a social worker when I was past
middle age and felt our true love was forever.

It lasted six years until she was diagnosed
with a host of health problems, and like a
martyr decided she didn’t want to be a burden
on me despite my wanting to care for her and
love her no matter the medicals, no matter what.

Now I wish and hope, probably foolishly, that
number three and the real one will be
the love of my life in my afterlife.

I don’t see or seek any move loves of a lifetime
in my waning earthly life, even if I live to be 100.

Bob Boyd

Femicide in the USA

Too many women are murdered in this world
45,817 between 1996 and 2020 in the USA
mostly by men they knew or had loved.

God Almighty, why does this have to be,
and how can any man be so evil and so
cowardly as to kill the gentler, fairer sex?

I don’t believe in a hell, but this makes me
wish there is one to send these monsters to.

And I hope all the women they murdered
automatically go to a place like a heaven
regardless of what kind of lives they led.

And if they go to such a blissful paradise
instantly when murdered, I hope and pray
that the way they died won’t even matter,
will be an insignificant memory in a world
of unending happiness and eternal peace.

Bob Boyd

Gypsy Woman

Gypsy woman how you mesmerized me.
Lured me away from home and friends.
Captured my soul. Stole my heart
And isolated me with your magic.

When you tired of me.
Tried to have me murdered
By your new next fool
Who only wounded me.

You underestimated
My payback capabilities,
Did some magic on you.

Misfortune followed
When you and your fool
Were sent to prison.

And you died there
Ironically by a gypsy woman
For offending her gypsy heritage
By pretending to be a gypsy.

Bob Boyd

Nightmares

Accursed nightmares
why do you intrude
into gentle souls’ dreams?

Worse, why do you intrude
into many souls’ lives:

Little girls sold or kidnapped
into prostitution.

Innocent young women
raped and murdered.

Wives and girlfriends
beaten and killed.

Oh Lord above
why are there so
many nightmares in
this life?

Bob Boyd

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