Category: Poems

Thousands dead on
The blood-laden
Battlefield strewn
With the corpses
Of young men who
Had futures but
Now dead never to
Return home
Never seen by
Loved ones again

They fought a senseless
War for a dictator safe
Far from the battlefield
He sent those dead
Men into battle like
Pawns on a chessboard
Their lives insignificant
To him

Bob Boyd

Sammy had been in the Air Force in Germany
For three long years, and he was close to
going home discharged from the Air Force.
He counted the dwindling days by saying
So many days and a wake up call like
“I got 4 days and a wake up call!”
But beneath all that jubilation, he worried
About the plane home to America crashing
Before he ever got to his home shore.
When the wake up call came and Sammy
Was bound to America, the last time he’d
Ever see Germany or the Air Force again
The plane kept hitting jarring air pockets,
One so violent people screamed. But
After the bumpy trip and the scares
The plane landed safely in American,
And Sammy sighed with relief and felt like
Kissing the ground in the airport until,
In what America has become known for,
A psycho guy with a gun splattered bullets
All over the airport and Sammy took one in the chest.
He died on the frantic trip to the Emergency Room
And never got another wake up call.

Bob Boyd

Martha, John’s coworker, chided him
For not giving the can factory they
Both worked for a two week notice
When he stormed off the job
After an outrageous slight
By the owner of the company.
Ironically, a month later Martha
got fired without even a day’s notice
By the toxic owner of the can company.
Shocked, she wondered how she was
going to pay her rent and all her bills,
And how long it would take to find another job
With the possibility of a negative reference.

Bob Boyd

Before they got married
She spent all her time
With him.

After they got married,
she spent most of her
time with girlfriends.

She thought he’d put up with a
Lonely with her marriage
Until he walked out the door
And never came back.

Bob Boyd

He saw them in his garden
cooking up word concoctions
To put fatal kill spells on him.
They were mad he called them out
For their evil designs against anyone
Who disagreed with them.
But they picked the wrong prey
And knew nothing about
Who he really was and
The power he possessed,
His true identity hidden.
Just as they began chanting
Spells empowered to kill him
They screamed in horror
As their bodies evaporated
And they felt the blunt force
Of his advanced wizardry.

Bob Boyd

I would like to have a cat as a pet
I love the way, unlike with dogs,
They automatically housebreak
Themselves with a litter box.
No poo on the floor, easy to
Maintain the litter box. I
Don’t like how they jump
On tables. The worst is if
You are at someone’s house
For dinner, and the cat strolls
Across the dinner table.
I couldn’t deal with that.
Which is why I’ll never
Have a cat, except Bastet.
Let me clarify. Bastet is an
Egyptian cat goddess that
I have a 12 inch statue of.
That’s cat enough for me.

Bob Boyd

He took the saying if you can believe it you can do it as undeniable truth.
To him it aligned with the Biblical faith of a mustard seed truth,
And he figured his faith and belief in being able to fly would work.
Why this cockamamie idea got into his head, no one knew?
But as he said, “I believe it with all my heart and all my might.”
He prepared himself for the day of his flight that he knew
Was going to astound the world and make forever history
By repeating If you can believe it you can do it over and over.
To further guarantee success, he visualized himself flying too.
On the day of his take off to fly like the birds in the air,
He dressed in a superman costume to give his flight some flair.
He took an elevator to the top of a ten storey building
And climbed on the guard rails, yelled Geronimo and
Soared into the sky downwards flapping his arms like wings,
The street below excitedly waiting to smash him to bits.
The gods of flight must have been with him that day;
He landed on a truck filled with mattresses and lived.
To doubters who said he never flew, he said, “I kinda did.”

Bob Boyd

Where did the years go, he wonders?
Seems he was twenty one yesterday.
Now at ninety one, death closing in,
He’s just an empty shell to those
Who know nothing about his life.
Another nondescript old man
Hobbling about on a cane. He’s
Like the dull cover of a book with
no pages within. Age has rendered
Him nearly invisible or a nuisance
To some, sucking money out of the
System with his Social Security.
Hanging on pointlessly to life
When he should just be dead.
But within that dull book cover
There are amazing stories and
A rich personal history of a life,
That none could imagine. And
Many won’t take the time to
Hear his amazing stories.

I remember when old age was
Associated with wisdom and
Elderly people were esteemed,
Respected and held in high regard.
More’s the pity times have
Changed.

Bob Boyd

On the dating app she wanted a man making $200,000;
That was her price per year. She knew the guy was
Getting off cheap to have a chance with a 50-year-old
Prize like her. Her appraisal wasn’t based in reality. A
Guy could get a younger, better looking woman for far less.
One 52-year-old guy scored a hot woman in her twenties
For only $50,000, proving that dating scene was a buyer’s
Market with a woman’s value declining with her years.

Fed up with the frustrations of online dating and depressed,
She went to a small Baptist Church near where she lived,
Seeking some divine intervention solace. She needed a
God-given fix. An attractive man her age caught her attention.
They talked and talked after church and had so many
Things in common. After two years of dating, her and that
$20,000 man got married in that Baptist Church.

Bob Boyd

His life bleak and joyless,
Kept alive with ten pills,
His complaints never ceased.
A great athlete in his youth,
How had he come to this?
Alone, his wife had left him;
All his friends had died.
Nothing left to live for,
He stopped taking his pills.
What was the use? Why
Prolong his miserable life?
He decided to kill himself.
Pointless to keep living
In such abject loneliness
And unceasing misery.

Just as he pointed his Glock
to his head and grasped the
Trigger, his phone rang.
An old flame who said she
Missed him and wanted to
See him. The romance
Rekindled, he took his pills
Again and lived twenty
Loving years with her.
He often said she was
The best medicine for him,
They died on the same day,
May 17,1996 in their sleep.

Bob Boyd

Rosalie, I believe that’s your name
Pray tell where are you?
I’m still here longing for you
I thought we’d meet in the
Springtime of our youthful days

Yet in all these passing years
In this lovelorn winter haze
Our stars have not yet crossed
Except in those romantic dreams
Which I thought were presaging
Our inevitable meeting in this life

Now I wonder if you by some
Devilish cruel design you
Were taken from me by Death
Before our predestined destiny
But my heart harkens with
The epiphany that we will
Meet in the afterlife where
Our love will be better
And forever minus
The uncertainties and
The sorrows and partings
Of this fleeting world

Bob Boyd

Rasboras, Rasboras
What liberated you?

For months all of you
Hid under the big sponge filter
Peeping out at the greater world
Of your ten gallon aquarium

I never saw you come out to eat
How did you survive?

Did fish flakes missed by the
Braver fish get delivered to you
In your sponge filter hideaway
Via the suction power?

Was your reticence because of
My Godzilla size compared to you?

Whatever the reason you broke the
Chains of your isolation,

Rasboras, Rasboras
it’s good to see you.

Bob Boyd

I dreamed we rode giant butterflies in rapturous delight
Through radiant astral planes with luminous blue skies,
Through glittering gold clouds that showered us with bliss.

Choirs of angels heralded us with voices more melodious
Than any we’d ever heard in the denser earth plane.

When we landed in a meadow and dismounted
Translucent flowers blossomed upon seeing us
Transmitting silent blessings in honor of our love
Beyond all loves, soulmates forever in eternity.

Bob Boyd

I step out of the apartment building I live in.
Giant bees swarm and buzz around me
As if I’m an intruder in their territory.
I see two of them mating on a step
Unconcerned about who is watching.
What the hell, have they no modesty?
Chidingly, jokingly I say, “Get a room.”

The other bees fly nearer paying no attention
To the indecent couple publicly copulating.
They buzz louder, fly closer to me,
Trying to intimidate me with their bluster.
Do they not know they are the intruders
Upon the previous bee-free doorway?

You might be wondering why I’m not freaking out,
Frightened about getting stung by those angry bees
flying like bomber planes around me.
It’s because I’m the apex predator here.
They don’t sting, and with a few sprays
I could take them all out like bomber planes
tail spinning to the ground in flames.

But like the Hindu Jains, today
I’m practicing ahimsa (nonviolence).
And despite their frenzied bravado,
Their madly buzzing fake attacks
Their puny intimidation attempts,
Like a deified, Roman emperor
In the stands of a coliseum arena
Making a decision to kill or spare
A defeated gladiator with
a sword poised at his head,
I give them a thumb up and
Spare their annoying lives.
Hail Caesar Bob!

Bob Boyd

She brought sunshine with her
Everywhere she went.
Everybody she saw.
Felt the rays of her charisma,
The warmth of her joy.
No matter how bad a day you had,
The sunshine she brought with her
Brightened your bad day,
And made everything okay.

Bob Boyd