Laurence Overmire Poems

When she wakes up
She flings her fat out of bed
And rolls like thunder down the hall
Barreling through the kitchen door
...

My pear are so
Delightful, I must speak now
With a fake French accent
...

Adam had just finished his corn flakes
Goat's milk and all

His briefcase was in his hand
...

Here I sit
Musing on the Muse
Oh glorious Muse
Muse-ic to my ears!
...

I lie on my back
Look up through the grate
Light streams in bars across the planks
The black and white reflection of an angry god
...

Shakespeare took poetry to the stage
And left her there
Singing songs
In the fire of footlight candles
...

He has an idea in his head
An idea that he knows the Truth
An idea that God believes in him
An idea the rest of us can never understand.
...

The timbers rise out of the bay
On a clouded, sunlit morning
Reflection’s pier in the water
An old weather-worn shack
...

The Prince was a stuffed-olive of a man
Beautifully proper and horribly dull
Little did she know that damn glass slipper
Would be her undoing
...

The artist born ahead of his time
Will see no reward, no glory, no fame
Alone with his demons
He wrestles to the death.
...