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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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417.
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The Fallow Time
In the fallow time
The leach of impurity from the souls
Dark soil
A harrow to the haunting
Stick, encrusted rock
Fragment of the past
Turned with a spade and, plowed under
Water draining down gullies of broken clay
Shaping and replenishing
New depths of mind rising
To surface with sun and rain
The fallow time
The waiting time
Before the seed is dropped.
(Previously published in Tryst, Issue V, June 1,2003)
Laurence Overmire
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418.
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The Famous Cocky Paul
Sold cars
Suckers caught looking
Under the hood without a
Flashlight
Flaws disguised in sleight-of-mouth
He kicked the tires
Of many a re-tread
Badgered old ladies for bundles
Of ill-begotten cash
A snake-charmer with a chubby, schoolboy smile
So slick his hair sometimes
Slid off his head.
He did it his way
Pants down in the back seat of respectability
Before long
His dingy, pot-holed lot
Became a mega mall of
Showroom flash and four-wheel dash
An automotive mecca
So successful children imitate
His bad commercials on TV.
Now he lives on the lake
A stately mansion, white pillar and blasted brick
Belongs to the Kings Canyon Country Club
Where, it has been said
They even named a sandwich after him
Ham and turkey on rye with a very special
Horsey sauce.
(Previously published in ZZZ Zyne, XLII,2001)
Laurence Overmire
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419.
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The Fifth Of October
One night on a beach
Changed everything
A brush of cloud across the moon
The California sand cool
To the barefoot touch
The lap of waves advancing and retreating
We sat upon the shore and listened
Ancient tales told by the light of distant stars
Held close in the dark
Dreams stretching farther than the naked eye
could see
One soft kiss
Was all it took
The wind reaching inside us
Breathless
Time lost all bearing
New worlds were born
And the past, like an empty shell
Rolling in the wake
Receded
In the swash of the incoming tide.
(Previously published in Webstatic, Jan.2000; Poetry the Write Way Anthology, Writers Club Press,2000)
Laurence Overmire
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420.
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The First Taste of Beer
was enough to make you wretch
you remember how it was
but with time, we learned to savor
you and I, the bitters of the draught
the fond recollection on the tongue
when all was lost.
and life, like beer, it seems
flows equally as sweet, don't you think
from the hollows of the wood
the aging of the barrel
the passing of the mug from hand to hand.
Laurence Overmire
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