Poems by Bob Boyd

Wandered into Fisher Park brokenhearted;
my bohemian girlfriend Sheila had left me.

Didn’t realize night was approaching,
saw an old stoned friend Jed.

Twilight approached, and I got an
eerie feeling.

An ivory white female apparition,
appeared and telepathically said stop.

I froze, could not move, Jed spaced out
kept moving,

He stepped on a Mongolian Death Worm,
lights out, Jed dead.

Released by the apparition, I evaded the
worm seconds from its death grip.

Made it out of Fisher Park, apparition
appeared again, wife in a former life.

Bob Boyd

The ants assembled
in their underground temple

for community worship
prayers and meditations

unknown to humans
they had had their gods

that like gods of humans
changed with times and dynasties

Eventually their gods evolved
into the Oneness

the essence of them
and everything else

Ironically, or inspiredly,
they named the Oneness Cosmos

Bob Boyd

They called her a carpenter’s dream
because she had small breasts

flat as a board they said
barely a handful they jeered

It didn’t matter to her
It didn’t matter to him

She was far more
than her anatomy

She was far more
than the body she inhabited

Though her physical assets
were alluringly sufficient

her mind held the most prized treasures
the wonders, the magic, only she possessed

small wonder on bended knee
he begged her to be his wife

and she, a queen among women,
kissed him and accepted.

Bob Boyd

Sweet summer days
passed away

Enter the fall
and the chilling winds

The passing of summer
the beginning of fall

reminds me of the changing
human populations

born like the sun rising
dying like summer ending

dying like flowers
in fall

bodies buried
in the cold ground.

Bob Boyd

He sees her passing by in a mall.
God, how he hates seeing her.
He just wants to forget her,
keep her out of his mind,
abolish all those memories,
the good ones, the bad ones.
She sees him too, looks his way.
He doesn’t acknowledge her.
It’s just too damn painful.
He never wants to see her again.
He’s been trying so hard to let go.
Seeing her passing by
brought back all the memories of her.
For a disturbing moment, he lingers
on all the good times:
how good she felt in his arms,
the sweet softness of her body,
the smell of her perfume,
her tender embrace,
the sincerity in her voice
when she said, “I love you.”
With a near herculean mental effort,
he buries those memories
deep in the depths of his mind
and regains some sanity again.

Bob Boyd

Saw a woman in a YouTube video today
who had no arms.
I wonder why life has to be like this.
Why some have to suffer such fates.
Why others have easier lives
Devoid of the afflictions of many.
Some say it’s just Karma,
As if it’s of little importance.
I don’t believe it’s Karma.
Right or wrong, I think
It’s all just random.
But I find it heartbreaking
That so many people have
Such horrible things happening to them
In this tenuous, impermanent life.

Bob Boyd

I like the stories about animals escaping slaughterhouses.
They’re rare. You don’t read about them in the news often.
But when I read of them, it’s thrilling to me.
Maybe I identify with them, the rebel in me.
Maybe I like the idea of a life self-saved.
By self-saved I mean, when the animal usually
finds refuge in a benevolent pro animal organization.
They capture the escapee and give it a good life.
I hate it when the animal is captured and slaughtered.
I feel even slaughterhouses should spare them,
like awarding a soldier a medal for exceptional bravery.
But maybe the best escapes are when the animal
escapees and are never found.
Perhaps that is the greatest escape for them,
to never be held captive anywhere again.

Bob Boyd

After years of spiritual work,
he began seeing the light inside
people’s souls.

Some were brighter than others,
like father Morgan, his parish priest,
whose soul was a radiant white.

The light in some souls was barely visible,
like the man on the TV news who’d been arrested
for robbing the First National Bank.

One day a beautiful woman smiled at him
in a way that was like a flirtation.

But he saw only darkness in her soul;
something he hadn’t seen before,

and he got an eerie feeling
that prevented him from smiling back at her.

At first, he didn’t understand the full meaning
of her soul’s disturbing darkness
until he saw a documentary about serial killers,
who had the same darkness in their souls.

He heard the beautiful woman’s husband had
recently died of natural causes at age 38.

From what he saw in her soul, he knew better.

Bob Boyd

They came from the seas.
At first just a few fleeting sightings
that vanished when confronted
by aircraft.

With the years they keep increasing,
as if emboldened.

A few close calls with aircraft from
Russia and the US until a US jet
fired upon one with no effect.

When the world was on the brink
of a nuclear war, their numbers increased.

With rays that flashed and hummed,
they disabled all the nukes in the world
in a millisecond.

They made their presence known
to the world after that.

An advanced, underwater civilization,
ancient Atlantis.

Bob Boyd

It began with not so subtle sarcasms
chop chop

Then the sarcasms increased and became wearing
chop chop

hacking away at him annoyingly
chop chop

until he blew up at her
and for a while the chopping ceased

but as often is the case with time
and bad behaviors rearising

her not so subtle sarcasms began again
chop chop

in the end he did the chopping
by ridding himself of her

chop chop chop
and she had to pack her bags and leave

Bob Boyd

I’m hearing a song about a moon out tonight
and a guy walking hand in hand with his girlfriend

and I’m remembering those days and how
good they felt walking hand in hand with you

and I’m remembering how sweet your perfume smelled
and how good you felt in my arms

but tonight I can’t even see the moon
and don’t remember much about you

except that the moon hid behind the clouds
and wept when you cheated on me back in 62

and now it’s 2025 and I’m old and wondering why
my first love couldn’t have been my last love

instead of so many lesser loves that like you
are long gone now

most by my own choice due to none of them
being as good as you were back then

but that’s love and life that some win in
and most lose in when it comes to lasting love

so now I’m thinking maybe none of it matters anyway
when the lid closes on my coffin at the end of the day

and I won’t remember you or care about lasting love
because my restless heart will be peacefully obliterated.

Bob Boyd

Why do arguments have to
interfere with true love?
Why do tensions have
to come with the bliss?
When I was a teenager
and knew less about
romantic matters,
I felt true love
would be hassle free.
I never imagined
sometimes it would
involve these contrary
emotions.
I never imagined
sometimes true love
would be untrue.

Bob Boyd

She was a nice lady
more than pretty enough
prettier on the inside
which mattered more
we had a nice date together
it seemed we could have had
a loving romantic relationship
but she felt we were incompatible
because I didn’t play golf
so in other words batting balls
around the ground
was more important than
the multiple benefits
of a heart to heart
soul to soul connection
I was grateful for that insight
into her character
and felt no sorrow
or disappointment
from her superficial
batting balls around
the ground rejection

Bob Boyd

Walking down Elm Street, Greensboro
many years ago

I spotted a man who looked like Santa Claus
standing behind a stand

I cannot remember his name

I only remember he stood out

Instead of giving Christmas Gifts
to passers by

He was a poet offering his finely crafted poems
to the world

as good as getting longed for Christmans gifts
on Christmas morn.

Bob Boyd

Her beauty was incomparable.
Flowers faded by comparison.
Painters could never capture it.
Poets could not put it in words.
To the despair of legions of men.
She never gave her love to them.
She surrendered her heart to God.
Became Sister Angelica instead.

Bob Boyd

While reading Du Fu’s poems and feeling such peace, I pause and think about how this serenity could be shattered by another that’s supposed to love me.

An argument the night before, an unkind word, a caustic remark,
my peace assaulted, my patience strained.

Though in rare, lonely times I pine for a caring, supportive female companion, at other more sobering times, I realize the insertion of another into my solitude could sabotage my serenity, compromise my peaceful life.

My occasional romanticization of an idealized other devoid of drama, free of tensions, love without friction, enduring forever, is as unrealistic as believing in Saint Nick bearing Christmas gifts.

Bob Boyd

September 29th, 2025. Today the weather
has finally gotten cooler.

It’s been like summer up till now.

Temperatures as high as 80, like a
sweltering fall

instead of invigorating cool winds
and lower temperatures.

You might be a summer person.
You might bask in the hot summer sun.

Me, I like the cooler weather and
dislike the heated rays of that hotter season.

Maybe because I’m at an age with the sun
can be like an enemy to an older person’s skin,
the ever present threat of skin cancer.

Or maybe it’s because I’m originally from a
much colder climate than where I live now.

Whatever the reason, I’m basking in the fall
winds and enjoying the refreshing, colder weather.

Bob Boyd

Despite claims of levitation from different quarters,
I just do not believe any human has ever levitated.

The evidence I’ve read seems more like hearsay
and embellished legends.

Were levitation attainable, I’d think we’d have
scientific, observable proof by now.

I’ve read some Catholic saints have levitated,
but those claims could easily be embellished,

or the alleged writings of saints making such
claims could have been altered

to make the faithful think those dedicated to God
were granted supernatural powers.

I also don’t believe because many claims of
supernatural abilities have been easily debunked.

And I believe in the quote “extraordinary claims
require extraordinary evidence.”

Bob Boyd

He senses they are coming for him,
as if he were somehow connected to them.
They come through his bedroom wall.
His mind becomes subdued, his body weak.
He feels his body being lifted off his bed;
it feels like a floating cloud.
They carry him through his bedroom wall,
as if it’s no longer solid matter.
Next he’s in their huge, oblong ship
strapped on something like an examination table.
The inside of the ship has a sterile, metallic smell.
He doesn’t like the look of the strange grey beings
and their unblinking, large black eyes.
He senses they are soulless and unfeeling.
They hover over him with medical-like instruments
in their abnormally long fingers and spindly hands.
They start extracting fluids from his body.
He feels weak and drained; he passes out.
He wakes up in his bed, his head aching,
his body sore, his mind dazed.
He feels like he’s had a terrible nightmare,
but he knows for sure it’s something worse.
And he fears they will be back for him again.

Bob Boyd

I can put up with a woman’s rabid politics.
I can endure with her talk about mansplaining
and her rantings about toxic masculinity.
I can withstand her constant dramas
and unhinged behaviors.
I can accept her fake body parts and
bloated buttocks enhancement.
I can suffer her constant nagging
about leaving the toilet seat up.
But I cannot live with her dislike of
my favorite ice cream, Häagen-Dazs.
That’s where I draw the line.
That’s the deal breaker.
That’s where we break up.

Bob Boyd