|
|
|
|
Best Poems From LAURENCE OVERMIRE
|
|
| |
|
|
437.
|
Sunrise At Garibaldi
The timbers rise out of the bay
On a clouded, sunlit morning
Reflections pier in the water
An old weather-worn shack
Five white windows to see the day
The seagull dips and glides
Slow-motion
This photograph makes
A stop of time
I want to get off
Walk the platform
Drop my line in the water
And wait
Watch, the suns slow
Mount from valley to crest, hear
The wind telling tales:
Of wise old men
And the daunting sea.
(Previously published in Blue Fifth Review, Summer 2003)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
438.
|
SwanSong
Peering through the musty, smoke-hued curtains of the mind
An image
Fleeting, but not forgotten:
A lonely swan crumples on the rippling pool
Sucking blood-stained wounds of shattered flesh
Thrashing in its wake of solitude, beaten wings cry for new-bloods nourishment
Then silence...
A single tear trickles down the haggard face of Time
Melting gently in the quiet stillness of sorrows crimson deep
And silence...
Heart beats.
Heart beats an echo.
Resounding echo.
Resounding echo to the lifeless sinews.
Wing-tip twitches in awakening glee...
Resurgent pulse of sudden flashing feathers tears the tear-dropped waters
Roaring white fury claps the deathly calm!
Smattered in the splashing life-blood of screaming wounds
The fire-red beak of the surging bird sings skyward!
Exultant.
Alive.
Triumphant! Laughter!
The dying swan...
Jubilant and alone in its bloody sepulchre.
(Previously published in L'Intrigue, Aug.1999)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
439.
|
Taste (senryu)
your taste and my taste
are not at all the same
who cares
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
440.
|
Techno Man
I'm plugged in. wigged out. logged on.
To the wall.
Brain-wired
Through windows of intercyber space
Tele-marketed on airwaves of
High-tech no resolution
Toastered in a micro-waved oven
Ears popped corn-wise
My electric eyes spin in sockets
Juiced like a jingled julep
Sucked through the jargon
Of video laser loserlips
Played for a lackey
By big no-name hucksters who think
I have no will of my own.
But if I pull the plug
Now
Will self and soul re-boot
Or just be
(Deleted) .
(Awarded Honorable Mention in the Barnes and Noble Fahrenheit 451 Contest, March 2004)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|