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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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541.
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Word to the Latecomer
Lifes too short
Not to start
On time
If your coming
Is not worthy of keeping
To the minute
Then do us a favor
Stay where you are and
Let the rest of us
Proceed
Before the date
Too late, expires.
(Previously published in The Short North Gazette, July 2001)
Laurence Overmire
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542.
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Words
Words have no meaning in the language of the heart
No sound
No syllable
No lettered thought
Can express the something
That dwells within the mirrored maze
Of human feeling
Only a touch
A look
A silent tear
Tells all
That can be told.
(Previously published by Stroll of Poets Society, July 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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543.
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Xenia, Ohio (Tornado, Apr.4,1974)
Heard it on the news, several hours distance
The tornado touched down.
Blew away the pond in the park.
The ducks were gone.
Threw a bus on the school.
Kids screaming inside.
The neighborhood leveled
Like the swing of a scythe.
Nothing was what it was.
Everything was rubble.
My childhood too was
Blown away.
The places I knew were
No more.
No where to go back to
The path that led from there to here.
Time has a way, twistered minutes wrapped
Around a telephone pole
The line is cut, with no way or why or how
To call home or even
Get help.
Note: Xenia, Ohio, a small town near Dayton and the boyhood home of the poet, made national headlines when it was devastated by a tornado on April 4,1974.
(Previously published in Three Smiles, Dec.2000)
Laurence Overmire
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544.
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Ye Gods!
I'd like to see the really bad poetry
of Keats and Shelley and Byron
of Yeats and Eliot and heady Mr. Joyce
the stuff that never got published
the stuff that makes the editors cringe
and wish they'd taken more courses in
accounting.
Then, maybe, with all that use-less
muse-less muck to behold
the rest of us, put-upon poor writers we
might not have so much of an
inferiority complex.
(Previously published in ZZZ Zyne, XXXI, April 2001)
Laurence Overmire
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