Category: Poems

The Bad Boy of Religion

The bane of Heresiologists
The scourge of Polemicists
Even Peter didn’t like me
He wouldn’t take a bribe
I was formidable
I was a sorcerer
I was a magician
I could levitate
I could fly
I was the bad boy
Of religion and I
Never knew why
They said I was
Malevolent
I said Nobody’s
Perfect we all
have our
Imperfections
In Rome I
Was redeemed
And deified
Name’s Simon
You probably
Know the rest

Bob Boyd

Amazing Woman at Harris Teeter

She works making pizza at
Lawndale Harris Teeter,
Friendly, helpful, compassionate,
Exceptionally nice.
Survivor of cancer three times,
Now in remission.
Fiance got cancer too, the
Cancer ended his life.
So terribly heartbreaking, hard to
Imagine coping with the loss.
She has a strong, brave spirit,
And a beautiful disposition.
Awes me how despite the cancers
And her fiance’s death,
She still smiles and stays strong
And exceptionally nice.
I’m so impressed with this amazing
Woman at Harris Teeter,
Hope she has a long and happy life
And never gets cancer again.

Bob Boyd

They Used to Rock Us on the Way to Church

Elderly exemplary woman, eighty years plus, medical conditions.
Despite having little, better, nobler than most having much.
Daughter shot to death by ex boyfriend, four year old daughter
saw mommy in pool of blood on kitchen floor.
Elderly self-sacrificing grandmother worked two jobs for years to
Raise that child right, Honor Roll student, Bennett College graduate.
One Christmas, asked grandmother if she wanted a free Christmas turkey,
My agency had many that year. She said no, let someone have it
Who needs it more. Knew her for many years, had highest respect for her.
Despite how noble, how magnificent she was, when a child
walking through a field to go to church with preacher father and four sisters, racist teenagers and hateful grown men often threw rocks, rocked them, on the way, should have been arrested.
But things were different back then, justice for some never served.
How horrible, how sorrowful, must have been those hateful, dangerous days.
A religious woman of high character, she forgave them,
never holding a grudge. In my opinion, always saintly, and I’ll
Never forget her.

Bob Boyd

In Memory of a Mike McHugh

I remember you friend Mike McHugh, always a good story, always a great smile.
Women loved your raven black hair and your bright, deep blue eyes, to them
you were a handsome prize.
I hated how time dulled your bright deep blue eyes, grayed your raven black hair,
stole the stories from your lips, numbed your mind with a medical condition worse
than Parkinson’s.
How it saddened my heart that all that you were and more the years erased
And worse, now that all that you were and more is gone forever
buried in the cold, unfeeling ground.

Bob Boyd

The Older I Grow

The older I grow the more people and generational icons
I know in the afterlife.
The older I grow the more I realize I’m merely a
sojourner in this uncertain, fleeting life.
The older I grow the more my body breaks down and
needs medical repairs to maintain it.
The older I grow the more I become like a fossil in
this fragile, transient existence.
The older I grow the more things I see I dislike
in this ever downward spiraling world.
And the older I grow the more I see death as a friend
who will usher me into my eternal home of
limitless love and unending bliss.

Bob Boyd

In Memory of Joe Drew

From Woburn, Mass, a small city, in 1964 Joe Drew joined the Marines,
The few, the proud, the brave sent him to the front lines in Viet Nam.
A good, gentle guy, never harmed anyone with words or fists.
Often thought, Joe why … why … why you, the nonviolent one?
Concluded gentle Joe probably felt he wasn’t manly enough,
And the Marines made manly men out of gentle teenage boys.
I’ll never forget Joe Drew, goodhearted, tender soul, great guy.
Joe came back from Nam in a body bag, first in Woburn.
Tears rained all over the city, one of our own down forever.
How I wish Joe never joined the marines and went to Nam.
A nicer guy there never was. If when I die, I wouldn’t be
Surprised if I meet an angel in the afterlife … Joe Drew.

Bob Boyd

Remembering Ruth

Remembering you with tears my eyes misted
was saddened to learn you had 52 years only.
You should have had at least 70 or more.
Never learned what sent you into the afterlife.
Your nicotine decades long addiction, I suspected.
You always smoked too much, worried me.
But maybe you hit the afterlife lottery, leaving
sooner, freed from the ravages of aging,
and I’ve no doubt you’re in a heaven. And
just maybe … we’ll meet again.

Bob Boyd

Crystalline Unicorns

We rode on crystalline unicorns in the afterlife, the unconditional love and the bliss mind blowing beyond words, beyond imagination, beyond anything one can experience in the transient days of impermanent, earthly life. Me temporarily only, an NDE tourist, her, Brianna, luckier, a permanent resident. Bliss beyond measure as we gallop through euphoric Elysian fields, Brianna, my newly discovered soulmate.

Now I know why I never found love true In my earthly existence of near misses. I needed to die to finally find her, not only the woman of my dreams, but the one I’d seen in my dreams before the car wreck that killed me temporarily. And though I miss her I know she’ll wait for me until I die permanently.

Bob Boyd

The Parade

This passing parade of people
you see throughout your life,
some you love, some you hate,
some you barely know.
Some are strangers passing by,
some linger then say goodbye.
Of the many in that parade,
few remain. The rest are
as if dead, gone from
your life forever,
returning never.

Bob Boyd

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