Poems by Bob Boyd

Jenny picks apples off the apple trees.
Her husband Jed gathers the crops.
Some city slickers think they talk funny,
Their bad grammar and hick accents.
But them city folk don’t know nothin’
about the art of living off the land.
And Jenny and Jed are a damn sight
Smarter than those city slickers
When it comes to practical things.
And those good country folk know
What’s right and what’s wrong
And have better values, and
Humility and goodness in them
Than those smug city slickers.
And if another Depression came,
I’d rather be a Jed and Jenny
Instead of a thinks he’s smarter
than me city slicker standing
Like a beggar in the bread line.

Bob Boyd

Some thoughts about this poem:

Of course, not all people who live in cities are like the city slickers in this poem. But some people mistakenly think country folks and their country accents are inferior, and they are not as smart as them.

A while back, I saw Tom Hanks imitate a Southern accent on SNL to take a dig at Trump supporters as if they were racist, hayseed hicks.

Regardless of your politics, Trump hater, Trump lover, or politically indifferent, you might find it offensive that Tom Hicks used a Southern accent to suggest people with such accents are like racist hicks and, no doubt in his opinion, too stupid to vote correctly. And I know without doubt many people with beautiful, Southern accents are far smarter than him and me.

I write this as a guy with a Bostonian accent who lives in the South and loves accents. When a person here in North Carolina sometimes kids me about my accent, I kid that person back by saying you’re hearing the Queen’s English, and we both have a laugh.

Three English women in England
order pizza

that is usually delivered by foreign men
from a religion

in which many men think women
not of that religion

are of easy virtue and “asking for it”
the way they dress,

not covered from head to toe,
with parts of their bodies exposed.

When the pizza delivery guy
arrives at their door,

they open their bath robes
exposing their naked bodies to him for a tip.

Nothing like giving credence to a
dangerous and erroneous stereotype.

And no doubt, he will tell his buddies
who will know their address.

Bob Boyd

I read there are 240 venom spitting spiders,
from a family called Scytodidae.

I’m thinking who in the heavens was responsible
for that decision?

God must have minions he delegates some
creations to.

I’m picturing an incompetent spider loving
minion

who got carried away when he found out
he could create such bizarre creepy crawlies.

I mean, did we really need 240 venom spitting
spiders?

In fact, why even one?

Bob Boyd

Like a human that “sings for its supper,”
there’s a cat that swims for its food.

The Fishing Cat dives headfirst into water
and catches fish for its sustenance.

It lives in South and Southeast Asia in
swamps and marshes.

It subsists mostly on fish but will eat
nearly anything near the shores of the water.

Regrettably, in a YouTube video, I saw
one kill a duck.

I know it was just doing what its designed to do, but
it was painful to see it kill that cute, little water fowl.

That aside, it’s amazing how these cats adapted
to hunting for prey under the water,

and it’s thrilling to see one dive headfirst into it
and swim like a fish.

Bob Boyd

She always preferred the bad boys,
fixer uppers she called them.
She liked the excitement and their
wild, unpredictable ways.
And she usually repaired them with
her love and behavior adjustments.
The last fixer upper she was with
fixed her up with a trip to the ER,
a busted face and a broken body.

Bob Boyd

Maybe there are creatures
lurking in the unseen,

hidden from us except on rare
occasions

where people report sightings
of these creatures called cryptids.

Perhaps the unseen is comprised of many
dimensions unknown to us.

Maybe like animals living in a forest, many
different creatures live and thrive

in unseen worlds beyond our senses
and our perceptions.

Bob Boyd

In my twenties I was playing a pong game
in an upright machine at a store I was working in;

I think in the seventies.

A woman came up behind me, so close I could
feel the softness of her beautiful body against me.

She wasn’t my type, but thinking back maybe
she could have been

as much as her closeness affected me,
as nice as it felt having her that near me.

Old and womanless now, how I miss those days
and the closeness of women once in my life.

Bob Boyd

The grocery store is brimming with people,
foot traffic everywhere.

Strangers all.

Three with carriages almost
run into me, pleasant excuse me’s.

Curiously, this feels a little like socialization –

this recluse’s rare contact with others.

Maybe I need to get out in the world more.

Bob Boyd

In retrospect

many are the times I’ve been
blinded by love

unable to see red flags rising
unable to discern them silently unfurling

at least, my vision always cleared
with time and disappointments

at least, I was able to extract myself
from those shortsighted relationships
with 20/20 vision.

Bob Boyd

More and more
I’ve become keenly
aware

of the impermanence
of this transitory life.

More and more I see
how nothing, not even
romantic love,
lasts in
this fleeting world.

And the impermanence of
romantic love
disturbs me deeply

despite my being long
removed from it.

Bob Boyd

It was once a great empire
“upon which the sun never set.”
Now it’s barely a remnant of its
forever greatness.
Now it’s like a wounded lion
slowly dying.
And ripe for the conquering
from within –
without even a shot fired
and unwitting appeasement –
of imported exploiters with no
allegiance to it.

Bob Boyd

I listened to a YouTube audio
about women cheating on men.
One of the risks of being involved
with a woman as a girlfriend or wife.
I read of women disrespectful
to men: mansplaining, toxic
masculinity, and more insults.
I think to myself it’s no wonder
many men are falling in love
with AI female machines.

Bob Boyd

Supposedly there’s a fox
that sometimes shows himself
somewhere outside the apartment
house I live in.
Others who live here have seen him,
but I have not.
How I’d like to see that fox
appearing around here
in this small city.
And I wonder how he survives.

Bob Boyd

She wakes up
another uneventful day
her aging body stiff
her old mind groggy
she’s all alone
in her vanishing world
her dreams are buried
as she’ll be
not long from now
and she’s just waiting
to die.

Bob Boyd

Jimmy, Annie and Sarah
were playing hide and seek
in the woods next to the
neighbor they lived in.
Jimmy and Sarah hid
while Annie counted to 20.
Sarah was hiding behind
a tree laughing and was
easily found by Annie.
Annie and Sarah searched
for Jimmy but didn’t find him.
That was 50 years ago, and
despite hundreds of searches,
even by dogs and the FBI,
Jimmy was never found.

Bob Boyd

In her youth she was a mathematics
professor at an ivy league college.

Her coworkers and students
described her as incredibly brilliant

Now she’s a retired, elderly woman,
and her mind has become compromised.

Her brilliance is gone forever;
she’s lost her self awareness.

Mindless, she has become
like a zombie wandering

all over her neighborhood,
and soon she’ll be confined

to a nursing home oblivious
to everything in her ending world.

Bob Boyd

She was in my life for a few seasons
then on a whim she was gone.

Sometimes I wonder what happened
to her and if she’s still alive.

But in this ever changing life
that passes by so fast,

now I see her passing out of my life
was of little consequence

as were most of the events
of my life in retrospect.

Bob Boyd

The other night I had a dream where
I was wrestling with a formidable opponent.

Unlike the Biblical Jacob, I don’t think
I was wrestling with an angel.

My opponent looked strong and human
and not at all evil.

I thought he would easily beat me at wrestling,
as big and as muscular as he was.

But I was holding his hands and seemed
as strong as he was.

Just as I felt I could take him to the ground,
I woke up with my hands in the air,

as if they were still holding his and wrestling
with him.

I wanted a rematch in another dream last night,
but he didn’t show up.

Bob Boyd

If ghosts are real, imagine ones that are
interactive,

making the air cool around you, whispering
in your ear

appearing and disappearing in front of you,
moving things in a room.

To me, the worst would be seeing one
manifesting and looking directly at me.

Bob Boyd

In some cultures and in some beliefs,
whistling at night summons evil spirits.

I don’t believe in such nonsense, but
would I whistle at night in a dark forest?

No way, lol.

Bob Boyd