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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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89.
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Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show
Have you ever won the lottery?
Neither have I
But then, what are the chances?
Still, there are things in my life
Yours too, Im sure
Extraordinary chances against impossible
Odds
Recurring with more than expected
Frequency.
Enough to make you think
If only for a minute
What the hell is going on?
Ill give you one example
One of many it seems:
It was summer
Sometime in the early seventies
I was perhaps 13 or 14,
A hot day
Driving around
My parents, my grandfather, and I
Seeking out the old farm
Where Gramps grew up as a boy.
As the countryside became familiar
He recollected the times
That passed him by
And one in particular stood out in his
Mind.
He and a buddy named Poorman
Saved up their pennies
Took a train to the big city
Cleveland
To see the greatest show of the day
Buffalo Bills Wild West Show.
That was awhile back of course
About the turn of the 19th century
Before the horrible war
Destroyed what had once been
Noble and pure in many a young boys
Heart.
Now the road twisted, my
Grandfather, excited, directed us on
The gateway to his past
Down this road, up this hill
Turn left, turn right
And one final gravel mud-rut road
That hadnt changed for a hundred years.
We got out of the car
Proceeded to walk toward an old, but
Still functioning barn
This was the place, he said
This was home.
Two old farmers were standing idly by
Chatting by a fence as we
Approached
Gramps squinted and walked up to
The tall, lean, gray-grizzled figure
Is that you? Irl?
My grandfather chuckled in that
Wonderful, warm, content-with-life
Way he had.
They shook hands gleefully.
Gramps turned and said
This is the Mr. Poorman
I was telling you about.
Now you might think it
Quite a coincidence
To find the very man here
Some 60 odd years later.
Indeed it might have been just a
Coincidence
We could easily brush aside
And say, Isnt that something.
But that is not the end of the story.
Poorman looked at us kindly
A bewildered smile upon his face
I was just telling George here, he said
As you were driving up
how me and Irl once took a train to
Cleveland
and saw Buffalo Bills Wild West Show.
Now, I ask you, you whove never won
The lottery, how many times has it
Happened to you, the serendipitous
Moment that cant be explained
And all we dare say is,
Isnt that
Something?
(Published in Honor and Remembrance, Indelible Mark Publishing, '07)
Laurence Overmire
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90.
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Castle Loch
In great hall
Kilt and bonnet
Crest upon the wall
By cold stone, a fire burns
Ale poured in goblets
A grim Scots tale of woe.
(Previously published in The Poetry of Scotland, Aug 2007)
Laurence Overmire
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91.
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Castor Oil
Art has to be foisted on people
Pushed through the doors of indifference
Stuck on billboards of vacant mind
Paid for in guilt, tax-free
Conscience of the inhospitable State
Otherwise
There will be no Art
Only the creativity of the void of
Cornering Markets.
(Previously published in SubtleTea, Oct.2003)
Laurence Overmire
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92.
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Chucking Chicks
After a time
Used and abused we
Cant stand each other anymore
So nice to
Hurl unwanted relationships
Like left-over shoes and socks and
Under worn wear
Out the upstairs windows
Of our lives.
(Previously published in Hinge, Vol.4, Issue 1, May 2003)
Laurence Overmire
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