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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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25.
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A Rainbow Has Blue In It
She had to live in a world with lots of bright colors
Yellows and oranges and rosy pinks
Where everyone smiled and said
“Hello, how are you today? ”
“Just fine, thank you. And you? ”
“Oh, couldn’t be better.”
In her world, it never rained.
There weren’t even any clouds.
Winter was banned, and summer was always moderately cool.
People didn’t sweat or smell or say
Bad words.
Life was just peachy.
On the day of her funeral, there was a terrible thunderstorm.
Several tornadoes touched down and blew away
The pink and yellow flowers and
A big tree was ripped out by the roots and
Fell right on top of her casket.
But then the sun came out.
Birds were singing.
And people say they even heard her son and daughter
Laugh out loud
For the first time in years.
(Previously published in uXu, Dec.30,1999, #35)
Laurence Overmire
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26.
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A Supermodel In Bed
How many times do I have to tell you, Harry
Look. Don’t touch.
You know how long it takes me to do my hair?
Hours, Harry, hours. So don’t you dare mess with it.
And my nails. If you so much as chip the gloss
Why—
Well, I’d rather not think about it.
But it’ll cost you—
Big time, buddy!
So just you keep your hands to yourself.
And, Harry, please I haven’t got all night.
I’ve got to get up at 4 for a 7 a.m. shoot
So make it quick, okay.
Hey! What did I tell you about those hands? Off! Off!
Okay, good, that’s over.
Now just roll over and go to sleep.
What? A cigarette? !
Do you know what cigarette smoke does to my skin? !
You’re damn right we’ll forget about it.
Now turn off the light.
Oh, and Harry, stay over on your side of the bed.
I don’t want you poking me in the eye or something—
That could put me out of work for months.
And then where would you be?
Out on the street with all of your loser friends.
And none of them have ever been to Paris or Monte Carlo
And don’t you forget it!
Now hush up and give Teddy a kiss.
Night-night, sweet-ums.
(Previously published in Apples and Oranges, July 1999)
Laurence Overmire
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27.
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Alas, Alack
The poet had such a sad face
Because he took himself so seriously
If only he’d been able to laugh
He might have lived a while longer
Seen things others have never dreamed
Touched places fingers cannot reach
But no, he listened to harping hangers-on
Stiff-necked bailiwicks to prop up the dead
Devil-jesters with pitchfork tongues
Who must believe in jack-box antics
Foolish jabberwock of self-inflicted ego
An ending much too tragic to tolerate levity.
(Previously published in Megaera, No.4, Fall 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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28.
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Alternate Universe
I am haunted by the man
I could have been
He follows me down every
Wrong turn
The blocked wall in a maze of illusion
His face indecipherable and yet
Necessarily contentious
The making of ourselves
Hanging in the balance
The choosing of each day
Critical
With time running out.
(Published in World's Strand, An International Anthology of Poetry,2007)
Laurence Overmire
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