My memories give me a lot of comfort,
And every single one of them mends
My heart, which suffers from the loss
Of family, relatives, and friends.

Ah, those glorious days we spent
Together as we journeyed through life,
Sharing love, laughter, and cheer,
And sometimes struggles through storm and strife.

Lifetimes have varied--some were cut short
Long before we'd ever expected.
They are considered short stories
Among life's stories that we've collected.

Others have been more fortunate.
Their lives are Russian novels, I'd say.
They lived through multiple generations--
Their skin grew wrinkled; their hair turned gray.

Some folks plan to reunite
With loved ones for all eternity.
Others are more inclined to believe
The idea: whatever will be will be.

Of course, we'd rather have the departed
With us, and in a way they are.
The light of their being shines on us
As does the light of a distant star.

Therefore, take comfort in memories--
A gentle balm that after a while
Will ease your anguish, lessen your pain,
Dry your tears, and make you smile.

-by Bob B (1-4-23)

(For some reason, I found this poem in my DRAFTS. I guess I hadn't "published" it for public eyes, and it sat, along with 25 or so of my other poems, in my DRAFTS folder until today. Sorry about the delay.)

Putin's year-long war continues
To batter Ukraine--to ****, to destroy.
The autocrat's reasons for being there
Are definitely a political ploy.

Killing civilians while also attacking
Ukraine's infrastructure as well,
The Russians are bent on total destruction.
Where this will go is hard to foretell.

And Russian sympathizers here
Join in with Putin's sing-a-long.
Florida's governor, Ron DeSantis,
Claims that Putin's done nothing wrong!

Who can tell where DeSantis gets
His false information and mistaken views?
Probably from too many incorrect
Podcasts and also from watching Fox News.

While Russia ramps up its fierce attacks,
Ukraine will fight to the bitter end.
Here's a reminder for those who've forgotten:
Putin, folks, is NOT our friend.

We pledged our support for Ukraine, and so
For the sake of freedom, we MUST follow through.
Condoning Putin's atrocities
Would certainly be the wrong thing to do.

-by Bob B (2-21-23)

(For some reason, I found this poem in my DRAFTS. I guess I hadn't "published" it for public eyes, and it sat, along with 25 or so of my other poems, in my DRAFTS folder until today. Sorry about the delay.)

Did God create human beings,
Or was it the other way around?
The question resembles a Zen koan--
Such as the one-handed clapping sound.

To some, merely asking the question
Is a virtual powder keg.
It's like the question: What came first--
Was it the chicken, or was it the egg?

Some things are beyond knowing:
We can only speculate
As to how and why we got here.
It's still fun to contemplate.

The writers of all religious scriptures
Have a bias they choose to share.
They hope that their ideas will make
Curious, hungry believers aware.

The story behind human existence
To some is a matter of great pith.
Others have a difficult time
Accepting a simple creation myth.

Some folks are not satisfied
And want to gaze beyond the façade--
Beyond the human formulations
That try to define the concept of God.

People adhere to what makes sense
To them, and some of them will chide me,
For I prefer to allow science,
Reason, and common sense to guide me.

Being able to think and question
Are benefits of humankind.
So who created whom? The query
Will always challenge the questioning mind.

-by Bob B (3-20-23)

(For some reason, I found this poem in my DRAFTS. I guess I hadn't "published" it for public eyes, and it sat, along with 25 or so of my other poems, in my DRAFTS folder until today. Sorry about the delay.)

You think you're healthy and in good shape.
Cholesterol is low.
Blood pressure is not a problem.
You've got some get-up-and-go.

You go on a daily four-mile walk.
You eat as well as you can.
Fruits and vegetables are both
Part of your daily plan.

Yes, you like your sweets; you feel
Life must have some perks.
You try to balance the good with the bad
And always hope that it works.

Avoiding stressful debt, you live
Comfortably in the black.
And then without any warning, what happens?
You have a heart attack!

Life we know is full of surprises.
Expect the unexpected.
It's strange how a problem with one's heart
Could long go undetected.

The help from paramedics and doctors
And nurses--I can say--
Has given me a new lease on life,
For I am alive today.

A stent in a major artery lets
The blood flow near the heart.
I hope that no more blockages
Will show up in my chart.

Although our bodies are strong and resilient,
It is also said
That despite our resiliency,
We hang by the thinnest thread.

I hope my ticker keeps on ticking,
Displacing some of my fears;
And may the beats continue to sound
For many, many years.

-by Bob B (4-2-23)

(For some reason, I found this poem in my DRAFTS. I guess I hadn't "published" it for public eyes, and it sat, along with 25 or so of my other poems, in my DRAFTS folder until today. Sorry about the delay.)

Donald Trump and Elon Musk--
And this, of course, is no surprise--
Continue to spread misinformation
And hope that we believe their lies.

Now it's about the devastating
Fires raging through L.A.
We are hearing attacks and blame
From Trump and his new protégé.

Musk is blaming the Dems and "wokeness"
And thus is throwing fuel on the flames;
Trump is stupidly misleading fans
By making false, inaccurate claims.

The two men rely on a place
Where lies and misinformation abound:
The Internet--now a perfect
Conspiracy theory breeding ground.

Fact-checking is crucial now
More than ever as Trump distracts
The public with his verbal garbage
And Musk with his alternative "facts."

-by Bob B (1-10-25)

How can we ignore what happened
On THIS dark day four years ago?
Let us paint it as though it were
Depicted in the style of Van Gogh:

The painting must show emotional depth
To clearly demonstrate its sadness.
The brush strokes, wide and wild,
Should display the utter madness.

To show the anger--not love--apply
Thick and intense globs of red,
Which will also represent
Brutality and blood that was shed.

Apply bright streaks of yellow color
To focus on the cowardly thugs--
There as insurrectionists
And NOT there to pass out hugs.

The Capitol should be depicted
From different angles. That represents
All the absurd conspiracy theories
Believed by all the malcontents.

The paint? Of course, make sure it's thick
To show the thickness of the lies
That Trump and his supporters have told
To make us NOT believe our eyes.

Swirling strokes should indicate
A stark but vivid intensity
Of violence, for which Trump's mobs
Have a scary propensity.

The composition should guide the viewers'
Eyes to see the overall truth--
And NOT to be taken in by those
With tactics questionable and uncouth.

Now stand back; observe our painting.
We must never ever let
The horrors of that day become
A bagatelle that we forget.

-by Bob B (1-6-25)

An odd prayer to say at bedtime--
Especially for the children's sake--
Is one that has them saying each night
"If I should die before I wake."

“Die before I wake”? Oh, no!
That is not a comforting thought—
That all my efforts to live and breathe
This very night could come to naught?

So when the kiddies say the prayer
"Now I lay me down to sleep…,"
Just imagine all the thoughts
That into little heads might creep:

Thoughts rekindling many fears--
Of ghouls ******* out their breath,
Of monsters crawling out of the closet,
Of countless things that might cause death.

And after that, while the children's
Imaginations are on a roll,
They think that from a distant place
A "lord" is going to take their soul.

How can that be comforting?
Wouldn't something life-affirming
Be much more appropriate
And not have little bed goers squirming?

Something giving them joy and hope,
Something that will help them thrive
And learn to appreciate the world
And thus feel lucky to be alive?

Are little ones still saying that prayer?
Are there parents who still demand it?
I guess that one would have to be
A praying sort to understand it.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I hope I won't be counting sheep.
Let's ALL have pleasant dreams instead,
And wake up glad that we aren't dead.

-by Bob B (12-31-24)