|
|
|
|
Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
|
|
| |
|
|
421.
|
The Forge
He asked for one thing in this life
Wisdom
He was graced with talent, dreams, ambition
But he asked for wisdom.
Despite all his gifts, opportunity eluded him
Politics destroyed him
Success and fame never came
Lovers and friends betrayed him, called him a fool.
Lost, alone and in despair
He came to understand
What most people never know
And, in the end, it made him a better man.
His wish had been granted.
Laurence Overmire
Read more: success poems, despair poems, people poems, lost poems, alone poems, life poems, dream poems, friend poems
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
422.
|
The Highland Clearances
The Great of my great great great grandparents fled
The bonnie shores of Scotland
Pinched for a penny by unscrupulous lairds
The time the land was cleared
A human no match for a breeding sheep.
Herded to a boat on a forbidding sea
The fatal winds to blow them
Some would succeed and others would die
To America, Canada and
Far-off New Zealand.
But there will always be the lingering cry
The broken song of the Highland
To be forced away
From the home you love
The place of your belonging.
(Previously published on Ancestry.com,2003)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
423.
|
The Iranian Girl
Theres a hole in the ground
A moving of earth, now made
A sad depression
Where once she played in
Puddle-rain
Splashing with the joy that comes
From child-like feet
The sound is still here
In the air, the breeze yet carrying
The secret laughter
That haunts the waking hours of those
Whove lost the way
How vain to think that
Memory can be erased
All will remember
No one escapes
I wonder if she saw it
The moment before
Her hair still flying free
The metal catching that last
Pure glint of sun
Did she hear the explosion
That made no sense
Did she feel
Her body come apart
And fall like dust, too soon
Does anyone ask
Whatever she felt, whatever she dreamed
Her dreaming time is gone
And no lofty word of God or
Glory will ever make it right
Dare to listen and you will
Hear her
Dare to open your eyes and see
The Iranian girl
No different
Like you, like me.
(Previously published in StopWarOnIran.org, Nov.2007; Tucson Troops Out Now Coaltion,2008; The Magical Blog,2008)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
424.
|
The Judge
The Judge
Sits regally
In his leather-backed antique chair
Deftly spreading the starched-white napkin over his satisfied lap
Preparing to sup
His wine glass filled with a delicate Chardonnay
A man of refinement and exceedingly good taste
His steak is of the choicest cut and must be cooked to rare perfection.
The waiter
Scurrying to be of utmost service
Cant help but marvel:
The classic gold clippers so effortlessly held in that commanding hand
The swift dexterity with which the dignified magistrate
Snaps the trimmings
And sends them flying
Like bullets to the floor.
(Previously published in Electric Acorn, Number 9, November 2000)
Laurence Overmire
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|