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Poems By Poet Laurence Overmire  10/20/2014 5:47:49 PM
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  101.     

Entrenched

In the trenches we wait
Rain pouring down
Our mud-soaked uniforms
Pasted to our bones

We wait

Puff on a cigarette
A deck of cards
A broken box
And a tin can meal

We wait

Passing the time
The bullets fly overhead
Occasionally
And sometimes we hear
The screaming
But most of the time
We block it out of our minds

And wait

Sleeping where we stand
Until someone gives the order
And it’s our turn to die.


(Previously published in The Hold, June 2003)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  102.     

Equal Opportunity Knocks

Standing at the bottom of a huge cylindrical room
Surrounded by doors
All locked
Two chaps considered the situation.

The first summoned his considerable energies
Knocking and pounding with intrepid voice
Raising a clamor to fright Beelzebub, but alas, to no avail.
Spent, he collapsed, eyes closed, exhausted.

The second reached gingerly into his vest
Pulled out a wad of crisp new bills
And slipping one under the nearest door
Waited calmly as it opened.

He passed through quickly and bolted the lock behind him
Precisely so the poor fellow
Stranded on the floor
Would be none the wiser when he woke up.


(Previously published in CER*BER*US, XXXVII, Jan 2000)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  103.     

Excuse Me, Mr. Pranklin

I think your verse is very punny
Very punny indeed, but I wonder
How can that be, to go for a cheaf
Guppaw when everyone knows
Foetry ought to be serious in a classic
Sense, the highest porm of language
Noble and fure
Not to be filpered like a pilthy rag
By some ficked focket of a foet
Prittering away his talent in privolous
Nonsense, too poolish por the likes of
Fractical feofle, like me.


(Previously published in Panic! Brixton Poetry, Oct 2000)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 

   
   
 

  104.     

Family Portrait

It was so hard to get everybody
Together
At the same time
But finally we set a date and
First of all it rained
My shoes got muddy and
Oh it was a nightmare
Anyway
My husband wears plaid because
That's what he always wears
And my crazy brother Elbert
Shows up in polka dots
Can you imagine the clash
Ohhh! I thought I would die
Fortunately, we forced him to change
Into a black suit and tie left over from my Uncle Art's
Funeral
And as you can see, the picture turned out, well
Not too bad, that's Elbert see
The one with the scowl
But can you imagine how horrible
It would have looked with polka dots and plaid and
Oh!
Why, I wouldn't even be able to show it to people
Much less hang it on the wall
They'd think we were a
Dysfunctional
Family

Or something.


(Previously published in Friction Magazine, Winter 2000, Vol 2, Issue 1)
 
Laurence Overmire
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Laurence Overmire