Free verse poetry, mostly fiction, some nonfiction
Sometimes I think it would be nice
To have a girlfriend or a wife.
Then I think about how what is first supremely sweet
Can turn acidically sour.
I think about all the relationships and marriages
Shipwrecked on seas of disillusionment,
And wonder to myself, do I really want to take the chance,
The possibility of an abandoned love and a marooned heart.
Without doubt it can be advantageous when one becomes two,
But the tides are high and the seas can run dry.
Bob Boyd
Passing women in this brief life,
what’s the point? Procreation
of the species? Or are these
parades of princesses merely
random encounters, some, one,
or none, that stick to a man’s
millisecond life in the timeless
eternity and make him happy,
miserable or nonplussed. And
why is the nearly irrepressible
need for a female’s endearments
and addictive charms ingrained
in a man’s DNA to his dying day?
And how is it some monk men
seem immune to this persistent
need? At times, eight years strong,
I have been one of those monk men –
almost, not quite. Yet sometimes
stirring amore undercurrents still
well up in me breathing unguarded,
old man foolish longings into my
weathered heart. Occasionally
I ponder will death rid me of
this resurfacing need, that
I repress and try to negate, my
resistance borne of too many
disappointments and painful
heartaches, or unite me with
a bona fide eternal soulmate,
disappointments and heartaches
nevermore.
Bob Boyd