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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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113.
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The Mona Lisa
Her appeal is universal
Something mysterious, enigmatic
Like the universe itself
She holds the secrets behind her eyes
The smile tantalizing in its awareness
But she will never say a word
To behold must be enough
To marvel and to wonder
The beauty of her poise.
Note: For those who are interested, check out Da Vinci's Mona Lisa here:
http: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mona_Lisa
(Previously published in The Stellar Showcase Journal, Spring 2007 Issue)
Laurence Overmire
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114.
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The Seeds Of Power
were sown before I was born
in another mans field
from the window of my small hut
I watched his mansions grow
the servants bringing news of the secret lives there led
the dalliance of love without effort
romance on the deck of a sailing ship
rendezvous and midnight soirees
Grand Balls at the Governors Palace
polo with the Prince on his chestnut steed
I often wondered had I been granted
the reins of fortune
without the means to suffer indignity
would I attend the play
take the mallet
with a mighty swing chuck
the troubles of this world
galloping through life with only the thought
to finish the day in
winning colors?
(Previously published in Some Words: A Place for Poetry, Aug.2004)
Laurence Overmire
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115.
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The Wild Horse
I ride the wild horse
The windy steed with the bloody hooves
I have no reins, no control, no will of my own
My arms tight around the surging neck
Fingers clutching the flying mane
Heels dug into the galloping muscles of the flanks
Down rocky slopes, steep terrain
He carries me
Helplessly
Deep inside the darkest passages
Of my self
The dreaming unbidden places
Where the timeless wisdom of the midnight moon
Touches the fire of the stars and
Gives breath
To the wakening soul.
(Previously published in Shadyvale Magazine, Winter 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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116.
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Three Secrets of Fatima
Fatima whispered
Three secrets
To terrorize the world
With speculation.
Faith in the balance
Hanging
Childish infatuation
Catastrophe lurking in fantasy
A fear of end-time and
Apocalypse.
Fizzling finally
At millenniums pass
In revelation of deeds
Not-so-momentous.
Age-old epiphanies
Merely
Quaint in metaphor and allusion
Subject to the stretch of
The willing imagination.
(Previously published in Newspoetry, Aug 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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