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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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517.
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Two
Old woman
Lies abed
Book in her hand
By that same hand writ
The curtains are drawn
The room is black
Only the sound of her quiet breath
Young lad
Of a distant land
Walks by a shelf
Of dusty tomes
One catches the flight
Of his playful eye
Draws his hand
To its tattered page
Two minds commingle
On a kindred shore
Cross those many miles
A young child's dreams
An old womans joy
The sights and sounds of bygone days
Pour from the pages of yellowed pulp
Flow like blood to a young boys heart.
But no one would see
In that blackened room
As a young lad skipped over stony streets
With a tattered book
Clutched tight in his arm
An old woman smile
Half a world away
And give her final breath
To the waiting dark.
(Previously published in Manx Fiction, Dec 1999, Vol 1, No 6)
Laurence Overmire
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518.
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Two Motorists
Two motorists
Stranded on the highway
Equal in all respects of dignity and character
Are differently disposed.
The first finds several amiable strangers stopping
To aid him in his distress.
Happy in his fortune, he exclaims,
Thank God all men are born so good.
The second finds a thousand faceless automobiles
Streaming past without a care.
Disgusted and perplexed, he shakes his fist at the heavens, and cries,
Damn you world, that men are born so selfish and cruel.
Meanwhile, people everywhere
On every highway
Just go on being
People.
(Previously published in Indie Journal, Jan.1999)
Laurence Overmire
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519.
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Two Timing
I took myself to a party
We sat in a corner
Nervous and out-of-place
With nobody to talk to but
Ourselves, and not being
Schizophrenic, that didnt
Seem like a very good option
So we didnt say anything
We just looked at each other
And wished we were
Somewhere else, the other
So alone outside myself, I
Wondered how he could possibly
Keep it all together.
(Previously published in Temenos, May 2007)
Laurence Overmire
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520.
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Unable to Label
Or understand the overlap of similar, yet
Different things, we waste
The opportunity, lose sight of
Horizons that measure the distance
Between earth and sky
Forget to ask the questions
Whose answers lie hidden
Behind the crenellated walls
Of our own perceptions.
(Previously published in A Little Poetry, Summer Fall 2007 Issue)
Laurence Overmire
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