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Poems By Poet Laurence Overmire  7/31/2014 12:33:37 PM
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  81.     

White Knight

I am your Lancelot
You, my Guinevere

Have you not recognized me
In the far-off meadows of your heart
Racing my stallion o’er the wild-flowered fields
Daring the dragons of lust and desire
Their fiery teeth scorching my breast
Drawing the blood of memories lost

And I, captive there
Have laid down my gauntlet

A fight to the death
Let no man intrude
Let time itself my second be
And stay the tide of idle dreams
Onlookers' murmurs to distract
A blunted will

I wear your colors, madam
The green of your eyes
The rose of your cheek
Spur my steed to its final chase
We fly in the wind
A reckless charge to Destiny.


(Previously published in Emotions, Summer 2000)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  82.     

Workahol

Taking a bottle of work to work
In the desk, the file, the flask
Tucked inside the third piece of

A suit not suited to public
View, then stop at the store
To pick up more, work to

Put on the table, after dinner
Nightcap laptop under the
Covers, or a cell phone in the

Bath, working hard to make it all
Work, house car wife kids
Bigger and faster, sexier smarter

A skid row of home-ly places
Just south of Easy Street
A mile from the nearest

Mission.


(Previously published in 12 Gauge Review, Nov 2000)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  83.     

Xenia, Ohio (Tornado, Apr.4,1974)

Heard it on the news, several hours distance
The tornado touched down.

Blew away the pond in the park.
The ducks were gone.

Threw a bus on the school.
Kids screaming inside.

The neighborhood leveled
Like the swing of a scythe.

Nothing was what it was.
Everything was rubble.

My childhood too was
Blown away.

The places I knew were
No more.

No where to go back to…
The path that led from there to here.

Time has a way, twistered minutes wrapped
Around a telephone pole…

The line is cut, with no way or why or how
To call home or even

Get help.


Note: Xenia, Ohio, a small town near Dayton and the boyhood home of the poet, made national headlines when it was devastated by a tornado on April 4,1974.

(Previously published in Three Smiles, Dec.2000)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  84.     

According to Webster

Some would call him an
Aerobacter
A short, rod-shaped, Gram-negative
Bacteria
Free living in nature
Typically inhabiting the intestinal tracts
Of humans and other
Animals.

I call him a salesman.


(Previously published in Maelstrom, Vol.3, Issue 2)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Laurence Overmire