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Best Poems From
LAURENCE OVERMIRE
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317.
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Mr. Beene
He shuffles in
like hes walking on flypaper
each step sticks on the carpet
and only with laborious effort can he
heave his weight forward and
manage yet another.
When finally he sits down
he cranks his neck over his shoulder
and with the lifting of an eyebrow
signals the usual to the bartender:
a double scotch on the rocks.
As the minutes pass into oblivion
the skin hanging from his bones
eyes glazed, hands trembling
some wasted satisfaction
an elusive pleasure
creeps into the hollows of his face
curling uncomfortably in a comatose smile
the years of pain
obliterated
in the dull, unconscious vacancy
of a half-empty
glass.
(Previously published in The Hold, Jan 2005)
Laurence Overmire
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318.
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Mt. Rushmore (senryu)
Rushmore's peering heads
wisdom in a granite brow
questions for the mutes
Laurence Overmire
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319.
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Narrow Crossing
The cross rises out of the high ground
Above the freeway, like a mighty white
Sword stabbed provocatively into
The bosom of the heartland
Looking down with righteous indignation:
The thousands of Buddhists, Muslims
Atheists and Jews, Hindus and
Agnostics who
Bravely make their way
Albeit uncomfortably
Through the narrow passages of hypocrisy
Toward the beckoning horizon
of an American dream.
(Previously published in Lynx: Poetry from Bath, England, Issue 14, Feb 2000)
Laurence Overmire
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320.
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'Neath the Pines
Neath the pines
Tall majestic pines
Still woods
Sleeping
Quiet cabin
Dark
Log walls hewn by ancient axe
Hear
Stories
Time-lost songs
Loves and lives and sorrows passed
They flicker in the moonlight
Spackled cross the fallen leaves
Needles on the forest floor
Know
Listen for a moment...
The wind sweeps through the boughs
Like a sigh.
(Previously published in Over The Back Fence Magazine, Fall 2001)
Laurence Overmire
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