soulmates and such

on my youtube playlist
Paul Davis is singing
to a woman about
coming over tonight
and how he wants
to hold her by
the firelight

and I’m thinking though
old school romantic
songs are my absolute
favorites maybe they’re
not good for me

I start remembering
how a woman coming
over and holding her tight
can be such an ecstatic
experience beyond
most experiences a
man can ever have

and despite being kinda
like a monk I find myself
slipping into a reverie
where i find myself
missing all that and
forgetting that what
first seems sweet can
eventually turn sour

and I start thinking
about the beautiful
concept of soulmates
and how I never met
mine no way no how
and I think that maybe
just maybe those who
who don’t find their
soulmates in this life
find their soulmates
in the afterlife

then I come to my senses
calm down and accept
my never met a soulmate
fate like so many others
and get this zenlike
attitude and accept
things as they are and
go back to being kinda
like a monk

bob boyd

Author: BobBoyd

79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, retired and enjoying a reclusive, solo, ever seeking knowledge life. View all posts by BobBoyd

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To Lady Mori with Deepest Gratitude and Thanks
The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a new spring.
Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise.
Mori, if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you,
let me burn in hell forever.

Ikkyū Sōjun

Enlightenment

White Light illuminates the darkness of the inner night.
To mystics common fare, to others never there.
One in whom the sun never sets sees it everywhere.

Bob Boyd

What Matters to Me

I don’t care how rich you are.
Riches mean nothing to me.
I don’t care how degreed you are.
You might think you’re better than me.
I don’t care how successful and important you are.
You might be too self-centered and have no time for me.
I do care about how humble, compassionate, and kind you are.
Those are the things that matter to me.

Bob Boyd

Heaven’s Hope

I cannot imagine 
a woman 
or a man
psychopath born
psychopath dead
cast into the
fires of Hell
by a loving
reasonable God.

If you believe
I’m wrong,
how can you 
account for a
God who’d send
a psychopath
into the world
without heaven’s hope? 

Bob Boyd

My Love

There are mystics 
who say love is the way
to total liberation,
becoming one with God and 
getting off the wheel of rebirth, 
living forever in eternal bliss. 

I love the thought of that. 
I’d love to be one with God
and get off the wheel of rebirth
and live forever in eternal bliss.
But, honestly, my love, 
I’d rather stay on the wheel 
and keep coming back to this life,
forever ... in love with you.  

Bob Boyd

If

If the planets stopped spinning,
and the sun and the moon exploded in the sky,
and with another big bang the universe died ...
I’d still be loving you.

Bob Boyd

Pink Dogwood Tree Petals

In the yard across the street
Pink dogwood tree petals are falling,
Ordinary, a beautiful sight.
Tonight they sadden me
Remembering the last time I saw them
When you said you were leaving me.
Now like the pink tree petals,
Tears are falling from my eyes.

Bob Boyd

I'm in Love With a Witch

I don’t care if she is a witch
My pulse reaches a frantic pitch
When She looks into my stunned eyes
And her love above all I prize.

I don’t care if she casts a spell
That could send us both to hell.
For her love, I’d even go there,
For her love, I’d go anywhere.

Bob Boyd

Before the Big Bang

I loved you before the Big Bang
When the universe was born
Before the planets spun in
Vast galaxies 
Before the stars rose in
Night skies
And I know we are
Destined to be 
Reunited soulmates
In this life 
Or the next
This existence
Or the heavens

Bob Boyd

Terminal Zen Sickness

He studied Zen Buddhism.
Practiced zazen every day.
Chanted sutras every night.
Began meditating too much,
Addicted to the daily highs.
Developed Zen sickness
And lost his mortal mind.
Now imprisoned in an
Asylum for the insane.
Walks like a zombie,
His eyes forever glazed,
And mumbles fragments of sutras 
Inside his disordered head. 

Bob Boyd

Skylark

A skylark sings songs while it flies
I wonder what it’s singing about
Maybe the fun and the freedom
Of flying so high in the open free sky
Above the earth liberated from gravity
Above the planet’s cares and concerns
Maybe the skylark gets high when it flies
An intoxicating rush among billowing clouds
I’d like to feel what the skylark feels in flight
And sing like it high in the open free sky   

Bob Boyd

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