stink bug – Bob Boyd's Poetry

Lenora

At age seven, my sister Lenora
Developed an obsession with ants.
If you accidentally stepped on one
She would scold you for a week.
When my parents bought me an
Ant Farm one joyous Christmas,
As soon as I received the ants
Through the postal service,
I remember the stormy day,
Lenora went maniacally psycho
And smashed the farm to bits,
And set all the bewildered ants free
When a teenager, her obsession worsened;
She vowed to set all the ants free
At what she called the ant gulag,
The ant farm factory in Pittsburg, PA.
I worried she’d become a loopy
My suspicions confirmed when
She broke into the factory,
Somehow set numberless ants free
And tried to burn the factory down.
Now she’s spent fifty years
In a psychiatric hospital composing
Crazy paeans to ants while I write
Weird poems about stink bugs
Obsessively and dream about
Inventing a Stink Bug Farm
And selling it to the world.

Bob Boyd

Ode To A Stink Bug

He sneaks into my apartment somehow
He’s a weird-looking critter I must say
And he’s sitting here looking at me now
I could end his life in a flash, but hey
He’s just sitting there not causing trouble
Were he a mosquito, I’d be bitten
And that bug would be dead on the double
Unlike the stink bug with whom I’m smitten
Because of his odd look and gentle ways
I’m sure he’s not gentle with smaller prey
But it is not his fault in nature’s maze
We all eat smaller things; it’s nature’s way.
Poor stink bug saddled with a name that stinks
When named, if only he could have said nay
And gotten a cooler name like The Sphinx.

Bob Boyd

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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