Category: Poems

Her name is Claire.
She runs a YouTube
channel about
the morbid, the
mysterious and
the macabre
called Don’t Scare
Claire.

She’s English, blonde
beautiful, intelligent
and articulate.

Her Queen’s English
accent is a delight
to listen to.

Her angelic looks
seem a contradiction
to the subject
material of
her often
scary videos.

But damn she does
them so good and
her research and
presentations are
impeccable.

Watch Don’t Scare Clair,
if you dare.

Bob Boyd

To save some time, he took a shortcut through a cemetery.

A female ghost appeared in front of him and with mesmerizing eyes looked into his and stunned and froze him rendering him unable to move.

When the female ghost vanished and he regained control of his body, his body shook, his nerves were frayed, and he ran out of the cemetery. But the horror didn’t end there.

That night his body froze while he slept he saw the female ghost with the mesmerizing eyes in a dream.

This went on for three months until he lost his mind and ended his life by leaping out of the window of his sixth floor apartment and joining the female ghost in death.

And now with mesmerizing eyes he wanders the cemetery with her every single night.

Bob Boyd

Maybe it sounds strange, but to me cemeteries
are places of peace. I don’t make it a habit of
visiting them. I haven’t been to one in years and
will probably never visit one again in my life.

But the times I’ve visited them I always felt a
sense of peace, sometimes sadness. The
sadness was when I would see tombstones
of children who never had a chance to really live.

Once while on a hike, I found an old abandoned
cemetery in a forest. The markers were worn
and barely readable, and I remember some
of the deceased had been born in the 1800s.

Though I don’t consider myself superstitious,
I wouldn’t find cemeteries peaceful at night.
I’d be too creeped out and a little fearful.
Maybe I’ve seen too many horror movies.

Bob Boyd

Bi-pedal.
3’5” to 4’2” tall.
25-50 pounds in weight.
Head larger than humans
and elongated.
Large slanted black eyes
that almost wrap around sides
of its head.
No brow ridge.
Two small slits for nose
above slit-like mouth.
No external ears.
Smooth, find-celled skin
pale bluish-gray in color.
No hair on face or body.
Long arms.
Hands have three long
fingers and a thumb.
Feet small and narrow
Four toes joined together
with a membrane.
Origin unknown.

Is this true? I don’t know
any more than you do,
as to whether it’s true,
except it’s from an
alleged 1950s Eyes Only
government document.

Bob Boyd

Bipedal.
Larger, more rounded heads
than human heads.
Small wide almond-shaped eyes
with two lids.
Large pupils, whites
of eyes pale grey.
Skin pale, chalky-yellow,
thick and pebbled.
Approximately
5’5″ in height.
Weight 80-100 pounds.
Small ears low on head.
Nose thin and long.
Mouth wider than
human mouths, lips thin.
No body or facial hair.
Body muscled and thin.
Little or no body fat.
Small hands, four
long digits, no thumb.
Legs bowed, feet large.
Origin Unknown.

Is this true? I don’t know
any more than you do,
as to whether it’s true,
except it’s from an
alleged 1950s Eyes Only
government document.

Bob Boyd

When I lived in the Philippines, I saw that skin whitening products were popular, as if having a darker skin color was not as acceptable as being a lighter hue.

I found that a sad trend when I imagined a little girl growing up thinking because her skin was darker than white, that she was somehow less attractive and less valued.

To me, the darker skins of some women in the Philippines made them more exotically attractive and natural compared to wearing false skin whiteners.

Yet, despite my take on this, it is sad that we live in a world where some people believe right or wrong that the color of their skin makes them more acceptable or less acceptable.

Sadder still that in some countries that is, or has been, a discriminative norm instead of, to borrow from Martin Luther King, valuing people by “the content of their character.”

Bob Boyd

When I first heard the saying,
“No good deed goes unpunished,”
it seemed so contrary to all I’d
known: Good deeds beget good
feelings and good merit.

Even religions expose the value
and the merit of good deeds.

But I have seen many cases
since hearing that saying
where good deeds were punished:

When I lived in Vermont,
a woman who lived in
Burlington, Vermont
always invited homeless
people into her home to
console and feed them.

For her kindness, she
eventually was sliced
to pieces by a crazed,
homeless psycho.

Two young ministers
gave three men a ride
out of kindness. The men
kidnapped the ministers
at gunpoint, shot
them to death and
stole their money
and their car.

I could cite many more
examples, some my
own, but as you can
see and probably knew,
sometimes good deeds
do get punished.

My final take on this
is do good deeds, but
be careful in doing
them.

Bob Boyd

Born into a highly religious family, with members of her family prominent in the church, she grew up a devout, Christian woman. Graduated from a Christian College, found a Christian husband there.

Sometime after they married, she got a job as a secretary at a Christian College and met a young, promising Christian student there. Their friendship deepened and despite the sin of adultery an affair ensued.

When their relationship progressed and they fell in love, the student asked her, “Why don’t you divorce your husband?”

She replied to the student, “In my church people don’t get divorced, but if he were to die ….”

Unexpectedly the student did the unimaginable and killed the husband by sneaking into his home and stabbing him to death.

The police never solved the crime. The diabolical Christian couple eventually broke up. Perhaps they couldn’t live with their shared infamy.

Years later, the Christian woman had married a dentist and had twins. The student had gone on to another college for further study.

The police decided to reopen the cold case. They traveled to the Christian woman’s house not suspecting her as a suspect but to reexamine the details of the murder.

When the Christian woman opened her door to the police, she broke down and confessed everything and was arrested along with the student.

This true crime case puzzled me. At first, I couldn’t figure out how two Christians could even consider murdering anyone for fear of, in their belief system, going to hell.

After pondering it for a while, I came up with two theories. The first was maybe these Christians ascribed to the belief that once you are saved by Jesus, you are always saved no matter what you do after being saved.

And maybe they delusionally thought even murder wouldn’t negate what they may have seen as something akin to a binding, contractual agreement.

Or, probably more likely, they believed no matter how heinous the sin, all you had to do was ask Jesus for forgiveness and the sin would be forgiven, the slate wiped clean, the soul cleansed.

Still it’s hard for me to imagine how the student, supposedly a devout Christian, could have been duped into committing a murder and ruining his life and maybe his afterlife.

I was six or seven years old and taking swimming lessons at a community pool and when I was out of the pool standing in front of the swings, I felt a soft tap on my back.

I turned around and saw a cute, red-haired girl my age smiling at me.

I was too young for boy girl romantic feelings and the power of flirtations back then, but something in me besides my back was touched. I think it was a budding romantic heart.

Before any words were spoken, the red-haired girl’s mother took her hand and walked away with her while she was looking back at me smiling.

I never saw that red-haired girl again, but, curiously, I think about her now and then even as an old man.

I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I’d met her again when she and I were old enough to fall in love, and I feel that would have happened.

I wonder how her life turned out. Did she have a full and happy life? Is she still alive? What was her name? But, alas, I’ll never find out any of those things.

Sometimes in overly imaginative moments, I’ve wondered if I’ll see her again in the afterlife.

Maybe she’ll be there as a beautiful, red-haired woman and tap me softly on my back, and I’ll turn around and fall in love with her.

And for reasons unclear to me, I got a little teary-eyed writing this poem.

Bob Boyd

Supposedly, The Akashic Records are a spiritual archive containing the events, thoughts, emotions, and intentions of your life encoded in a non-physical plane of existence.

Here’s my business plan: Because any bad things you did, or even thought of doing, are sealed hermetically in your Akashic Record, you probably have mountains of bad karma stored in them.

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For years there have been many reports of UFOs, also called USOs, entering and exiting the sea, aircraft operate freely in the water and in the air.

Tim Gallaudet, an oceanographer and former Naval rear admiral told Fox news in 2024 about the underwater submerged objects (USOs).

And in a 2019 29-page report, Gallaudet wrote, “Pilots, credible observers and calibrated military instrumentation have recorded objects accelerating at rates and crossing the air-sea interface in ways not possible for anything made by humans.”

Since I’ve looked into these otherworldly matters a bit, I’ve read of other USO sightings, and these do seem to have some credibility.

But stranger and more bizarre than this are Ufologists who classify aliens into 4 categories: Greys, Nordics, Insects, and Reptilians.

This all seems so strange and like Sci Fi conspiracy theories, but sometimes “truth is stranger than fiction.”

Bob Boyd

I change into my gray pants
and my long sleeve red shirt.
I put on my black sports coat
and my ruddy blue Gatsby cap.
I hop into my 2008 Honda
turn the key in the ignition,
back out of the apartment
parking area and head
out onto Wendover Avenue.
Fifteen minutes later
I’m walking into Harris
Teeter, my favorite grocery
store. I amble past the
many shoppers until I
arrive at the ice cream
freezer cases. I slide open
one of the doors and grab
a pint of Haagen Dazs
Chocolate Chip Cookie
Dough ice cream. I check
out at the self service
registers, transaction
approved, and I drive
home dreaming of the
first Haagen Dazs bite.
And think to myself,
it’s been a good night out.
Sure you could say it’s
boring, but for me at
my age, it’s far more
enjoyable than when
in a dark ages part
of my misspent youth,
a night out meant
getting drunk and crazy.

Bob Boyd

Sitting in my second floor apartment on top of the street below, people taking leisurely strolls on the sidewalk, an elderly woman walking a pesky pug dog, an old man hobbling on a cane, and farther than I can see, people being born, people dying, lots of joy, lots of crying.

A ceiling fan spins tirelessly over my head, fish in my aquariums swim about, clouds drift in the blue sky, the earth spins beneath my feet, the planets in the cosmos rotate above my head, the universe expands, the Godhead at the controls, and I’m sitting here, heart beating, lungs breathing, eyes seeing, trying to fathom what this creation is really all about.

Bob Boyd

A lonely, monarch male butterfly sat upon a pink verbena flower pining for his true love, his magnificent, stained glass orange and black lined wings fluttering and emitting pheromones with the hope of attracting his true love.

A beautiful, female monarch butterfly swooned over his pheromones and his handsomeness. She flew to his flowered perch, her wings and her heart fluttering, and it was love at first sight. They embraced and made love for sixteen hours, as was the butterfly custom when true love bloomed.

And though the monarch male butterfly only lived for two weeks, those sixteen hours were the best hours of his life.

Bob Boyd

He’d been watching her for a week, getting her patterns down, a pretty, single mother with two kids.

A serial rapist and murderer, he had to have her and her life

He knew her schedules, when she went to work, when she came home, and he knew she lived alone, except for two toddlers, and went to bed at 10 pm.

The night arrived when his lust could no longer be denied. This was the night he was going to rape and kill her, and maybe her kids, and vanish into obscurity afterwards.

She heard him breaking into her house when the sound woke her up.

She yelled, “I’ve got a gun! He yelled back, “I have one too!”

As he busted down the door, she began shooting. He shot back.

When the shooting stopped and the gun smoke cleared, she was alive and he was dead never to rape and murder another woman again.

I don’t own a gun and would like to live in a gun free society, but it cannot be denied that sometimes guns save lives.

And I can understand how some see the need to take extra precautions to protect themselves and their families. And I have no problem with that.

Bob Boyd