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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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525.
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Voodoo Chap
I have a dapper little
British voodoo doll
With bowler and umbrella
I like to take the pins out of
His head and stick them in
His butt to wake him up
And sometimes when I
Really want to frighten him
I take off all his clothes
So no one can tell
What class hes from.
(Previously published in Cotworld, Issue 11, Sept.1,2000)
Laurence Overmire
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526.
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Wade In The Wave
Every stone I cast
on water ripples
to the edge of an unknown
world
and when in time
another stone skims past
the hand I know not
rippling why
remembers
the choosing of the rock
its color and touch
immortal, divine.
(Previously published in Poetry: Soul to Soul, July 2004; World's Strand Anthology,2007)
Laurence Overmire
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527.
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Washington Square Park in Fall
Washington Square Park
on a fall afternoon
cool breeze blowing
neath a water blue sky.
Kids on a concrete hill
riding skateboard bikes
frolic on the jungle gym
laughing childrens shrieks.
Young girl on a park bench
in a blue-jeaned sneakered pose
scribbles in a notebook
and dreams some faraway thought.
Black youth by the garbage can
rusty red bucket dented
mumbles to the passersby
disjointed joints for sale.
White youth tossing pigskin
in his stylish sports fatigues
tanned and bronzed like summer
muscles rippling on the green.
The middle-aged Joes play chess
black/white castles on the block
they send their dreams to battle
on ordered squares inert.
Old men sit in patience
cross their legs and heave a sigh
watching leaves go tumbling past them
like a memory
drifting
(Previously published in Ixion, Winter 2000, Issue 9)
Laurence Overmire
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528.
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Watch Winding
I watch myself die each day
Winding 9-5
Clockwise
Meaning-less job
Making nonesuch for non-descripts
Dollars is as Dollars does
Check for the mortgage
Check for the car
Check to see that the check is paid
Check back to work to check it all again
Come home at last
Numb-brained
Collapse on the sofa
Turn the boob box on
Flickering and snickering foolish little man
Munch the junk
Body trash
Slow poison
This life
To bed. To sleep. Half-wake. Again.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Thumpa thumpa thumpa thump
Check the heart beat
Days to months to years and then
The dreams are dust
The soul is lost
How the hell did I get to hell
So soon
Before my time?
Just watch.
(Previously published in Nuvein, Feb.2000, Issue 7; Pogonip, July 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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