Sunny days and holidays
Great for many people
As for me I’m looking
For those sunny days
In the ever bright afterlife
For my eternal holiday
From the troubles and strife
In this fleeting uncertain life
But a doctor said I could live
Another thirty years
Alas, he may be more
Right than wrong
About my swan song.
Bob
Lived without your love for nine years
You came back after cheating on me
as if the years had erased your offense
against me, once your faithful husband.
I learned you cheated on your paramour
too, not surprised, bad habits prevail.
Fool me once, never twice, won’t roll
the dice on bad bet broken trust.
I wish you well in your future romances.
Maybe there’s a lesson here for you.
Maybe someday you’ll become truer
Because of your mistakes with me and him.
As for me, I’m nine years better off
with never having to be with you again.
Bob Boyd
I lived in Edinburgh during the Black Plague
My occupation, a well off Plague Doctor
Trying to heal victims of the Black Plague
Mostly removed dead bodies from homes
And buried their rotting, stinking corpses
Took their precious belongings as well
Got rich on those and my high salary
My garb, a black cloak and a bird beak mask
A cane to examine patients, cauterize wounds
Strong Herbs in the mask, incense in the beak
Cloak greased with fat and wax kept fleas away
Bird mask didn’t save me, plague seeped in
Died a horrible death from the plague in 1690
Bob Boyd
Flowers bloom as she walks by them
The grass beneath her feet feels blessed
Tree leaves sing silent songs to her
Rocks tremble as she steps over them
The wind murmurs about her beauty
The clouds gaze at her in wonder
The sky brightens when she appears
The Sun beams at the sight of her
A more beautiful woman there never was
Bob Boyd
Amazing how the body runs itself
Eyes that see, hair that grows
Arms and legs that move
Mouth that talks effortlessly
Nose the sniffs and sneezes
Body temperature that heats
Heart and pulse that beat
Automatic digestive system
Corpse that disposes of itself
Bob Boyd
My life seemed the envy of many.
Became a Hollywood starlet,
Did things I regret to get there,
Sordid times, casting couches.
Costars pawing me on the set,
Some with stinking bad breath.
Had seven failed marriages,
Hard to stay married as a star,
Rarely home, always working.
Male leads, bad husbands.
Me, not really a good wife,
Like my sister back in Ohio
In a little city I came from,
Three kids, one marriage.
She had the happy life;
I only had my dreams.
Bob Boyd
Lured me to North Carolina from Vermont
Stunningly beautiful, sweet Southern accent
Playful, full of joy, a lot of serendipitous fun
A year later, no money in my ATM
And a married man she was writing too
Telling him the same stories she told me
Stunningly beautiful turned criminally ugly
Found a pretty social worker girlfriend
Bob Boyd
Flying above the pigeon coop in ever widening circles
Wings chopping rapidly through the summer air
Embracing the freedom, the magnificence of the group flight
Such a beautiful sight for me to behold, few move me so
Makes me wonder what it would have been like
To have seen passenger pigeons block out the sun
Bob Boyd
I stroll through the verdant park
Families, singles, and dogs
Relaxing, enjoying the fun day
Birds flitting in trees above
Chirping away so merrily
Insects busying themselves
In the ground beneath the park
Butterflies floating above flowers
Bees seeking nectar in them
The sun beaming over it all
Bob Boyd
They met at a high school dance when they were both sixteen,
And the song Sixteen Candles was playing during their first dance.
To their surprise, they had the same birthday, April 15.
They got married after high school, he became a mechanic.
She went to beautician school and opened a beauty shop.
They had three children, one died in an awful auto accident.
The other two went to college and had comfortable lives.
She got breast cancer at thirty-three and survived it.
He got a heart attack at sixty-six and survived that.
Now they’re celebrating their birthdays in a nursing home,
Eighty-six candles and still madly in love after all those years.
Bob Boyd