Another day is passing
the sun is retiring
the moon is waking up
to bath the world in moonlight

Bob Boyd

Birds singing in trees
seem happy and serene.
But look how they scatter
when you approach them
when they’re on the ground.

Despite the fact they are
always singing like carefree
birds, at any moment a hawk
could swoop down and kill
one or more of them.

It’s almost like their singing
is a charade to mask the
fear they have inside.

Perhaps it’s a defense
mechanism to attempt to
ease their constant fears
and their necessary paranoia.

Bob Boyd

It’s 2:40 am, and I’m beginning
to write my daily poems.
For reasons unknown, Ideas
always come into my head.
It’s almost effortless, and it
feels good to create daily.
Sometimes I think how it’s
amazing that I started
writing poems at age 76.
And even more amazing
that I keep writing them.

Bob Boyd

I write poems everyday.
I’ve been writing them
for over 2 years.
It’s like a hunger
I have to feed.
I don’t write poems to
try to publish them.
I just write them for
myself and my mind.
At the least it’s a
great hobby that
also is good for my
mind and my soul.

Bob Boyd

He was a good kid who wanted to be a plumber
until he got involved with some delinquents
shot a person to death in a botched robbery
now the good kid turned murderer rots in prison

Bob Boyd

You’re feeling really great
your health is so good
until a medical malady
sneaks up on you

Bob Boyd

Everything procreates, ever notice that
I think that’s the reason for romantic love,
procreation despite the gushing about it
making babies and nothing more

Bob Boyd

When he came home after 4 years being away
he learned Denise had had a crush on him
four years too late after she had married
oh how he regretted that missed opportunity

Bob Boyd

He had a mother-in-law who for no
justifiable reasons didn’t like him.
So he grew to dislike her as much
as she didn’t like him.
When she died of cancer, he took
no relief or pleasure in that.
Actually, he prayed for her, hoping
she made it to heaven.

Bob Boyd

She senses she’s closer to the grave.
The cancer has eaten her up.
Her dreams keep getting more vivid.
In her last dream she sees her
twenty eight years of life before her.
Then came the tunnel of white light.
Her body drew it’s final breath, and
her freed soul made it to heaven.

Bob Boyd