Free verse poetry, mostly fiction, some nonfiction
I hear the raging rain outside,
A hundred blows against the windows
Like ancient archers shooting arrows
Attempting to bridge my apartment fortress.
I, like a fearless knight inside, scoff at their puny blows;
I’ve taken far worse blows in my war torn life.
Cancer was a far mightier foe than paltry rain drops,
Who’s hundred blows nearly killed me
On the battlefield of this transient life.
So let the rain strike as much as it wants;
I’ve survived more serious things.
Bob Boyd
This may sound kinda contrary, but I’m grateful I got cancer, no regrets. It vanquished my whitecoatitis; It liberated me from medical fears. It gave me admiration for the medical profession. It abolished my hate of hospitals; now I love what they do, though I still don’t want to be stranded in them, and I hate those freakin’ unwieldy hospital gowns. I’ve become like the phoenix out of the ashes, more inwardly powerful, my character enhanced. I’m grateful for the knowledge of cancer I gained and for all the wonderful infusion room nurses who like angels on earth helped save my life. I like how “I’ve been there,” kinda like street cred and can connect, commiserate, and relate with others with cancer so easily. It made my presentations ten times more powerful, my kinda like street cred makes me more legit. The worst thing happening, the dreaded C gave me the calmness of a Zen Master, something I never had even with years of attempts to reach that elevated state. And if I have to face cancer again, I’m game. And if it kills me I’m good with that too. The way I see it, I get to go to my real home, the abode of unconditional love and eternal bliss. You may doubt that, but I’m as sure as you are a living, breathing human being reading this that that’s where I’m going. I base that on extensive research into the land of NDES, shared death experiences, deathbed visions, a mystical experience I’ve had for over 50 years and having experienced bliss beyond description and the peace beyond understanding many times in the past and an unwavering faith in the Ruler of Time and Space despite His name being taboo in many quarters now. And this is a stream of consciousness poem.
Bob Boyd
When I had cancer, dreams of women every night.
Angels, spirit guides, soulmate in many guises, something else?
Visiting me in dreams because I was near death?
There to guide me Into the afterlife? Never knew for sure.
When the cancer went into remission, the women in dreams
disappeared, and haven’t been back. Maybe a close call.
But I miss those women in my dreams. And I long for
the unconditional love of the afterlife.
Bob Boyd
Cancer is like Humanity’s Russian Roulette
You pull the trigger when you draw your first breath.
Bob Boyd