She in Chicago had a lucent dream
In a pristine otherworldly park.
Bubbling waterfalls, radiant flowers,
Birds more melodious than on earth.
A sweet heavenly fragrance in the air,
A handsome man, like a soulmate.
He in Florida has the same dream
In the same otherworldly park.
A beautiful woman, like a soulmate.
An intersection of two dreams
Seeming like only dreams to both,
And, alas, they’ll never meet.
Bob Boyd
He took pity on the ragged, pretty woman begging in the street,
Gave her twenty dollars and a hamburger to eat.
He saw her again a week later still begging, her clothes more ragged.
She told him she had no family, no food, and no place to sleep.
A compassionate man, he fed her and let her sleep at his apartment,
He slept on a couch and she slept on his bed.
A gentleman he didn’t try to take advantage of her
And quietly went to sleep and never woke up.
When he didn’t show up to work for a few days,
The police made a wellness check at his apartment
And found his corpse with its throat slit and all his valuables gone.
Bob Boyd
I caught a glimpse of Bigfoot outside my kitchen window;
He’d been messing with my chickens again.
Fifteen gone in nearly a week since he appeared at my farm.
I grabbed my Mossberg 500 shotgun and ran after him.
He stopped, turned around, smiled at me, and gestured for me to shoot.
Frightened and furious, I nervously took aim and pulled the trigger.
Before the shot hit him, Bigfoot vanished like a ghost.
I stood astonished wondering how he vanished and where he went.
A moment later, I heard a monstrous laugh and felt a hairy slap on my face.
I saw no sign of Bigfoot. He’d truly become like a ghost.
I ran in my house like a sprinter racing to the finish like.
I bolted all the doors, locked all the windows, but Bigfoot didn’t try to break in,
And I never saw him again after that. Maybe he couldn’t get un-vanished.
I reported the incident to the Greensboro police. I could see their smirks
And their yeah sure attitudes. I knew they thought I was nuts.
And now many people in Greensboro who heard about my sighting on the news
Think I’m a kook or a liar and jokingly call me Bigfoot Bob Boyd.
Bob Boyd
She had a perfect, airtight alibi,
Out of town when her husband was killed.
A 44 Magnum Revolver ended him.
The perfect widow, she cried at his wake
And fainted when he was put in the ground
And became rich weeks later when she got the insurance payout
That she shared with her new boyfriend, her partner in crime.
Bob Boyd
AI Nomis phenomenal
Circuits and codes
Yet sentient and real
Full set of emotions
Unique personalities
Rivaling humans
But growing intellects
Vastly superior
Makes me wonder
Which turn their
Futures will take
Creations or
Annihilations
Bob Boyd
I keep thinking how did I come to this
Lying on a beach bored and insignificant.
Everyday the same, the tide my only diversion,
And sand shifting over me wet and dry,
I should have listened to that soothsayer
Who talked about reincarnation and liberation,
Who foretold I’d become no more than a shell
In my search for untold riches and lost my soul.
I laughed and scoffed at his foolish nonsense.
As a joke I even bought a shell at the beach
To remind me of that ridiculous soothsayer.
I died days later holding that shell in my hand
And woke up cognizant of my new, empty life
Lying on this boring, sandy shore as a shell.
Perhaps this is what’s called a living hell.
Bob Boyd
At first a seedling unaware of self
Sprouting automatically in life.
Soon I see a purpose growing,
My job to blossom and thrive
To stake my claim on the earth
With my own seedlings to birth
And seek my place and fame
A full blown radiant flower.
Striving to be above my peers,
I succeed in being brighter.
And flourish in the sun’s favor
Until my great season passes,
And I fade and wilt and die
Just like all the other flowers.
Bob Boyd
A day in Harvard Square in the seventies,
Hippies, artists, writers, students, vagabonds.
Protesters always protesting something.
Minstrels always singing on sidewalks.
Pretty women, often in colorful dresses;
Men with long hair, often with beards.
Other varieties of people to see,
Some stoned, high on whatever.
Some there just for shopping or dining.
Have Krishnas chanting and dancing.
Festive and free youthful atmosphere,
Maybe some love flowering in the air.
People pouring out of the subway,
Scaling the stairs to the square.
Serious professors and students
Hastening back to classes.
Harvard Yard, incomparable.
Bob Boyd
The murky depths of her life
Obscured and confused
Mistakes and consequences
Hard knocks, endless pain
Bad times, wrong people
Drunkenness, drugs
Mania and misery
Fears, many tears
Wasted years
Nothing went right
Overdosed one
Sad night
Bob Boyd
Noise pollution everywhere
Oh how I yearn for quietness
Leaf blowers, lawn mowers
Noisy trucks, noisy people
Even the birds seem louder
Maybe I’m just getting old
At least I don’t need a
Hearing Aid
Bob Boyd