Laurence Overmire


Laurence Overmire Poems

161. The Face In The Tube 4/15/2008
162. The Fallow Time 4/15/2008
163. The Last Passage 4/15/2008
164. The Mona Lisa 4/15/2008
165. The Plumlee Mr. Bruce 4/16/2008
166. The Road To Baghdad 4/16/2008
167. The Road To Damascus 4/16/2008
168. Mirror Image 4/8/2008
169. Mis-Labeled 4/8/2008
170. Missing Pages 4/8/2008
171. Mortuary Science 4/8/2008
172. Mr. Baggot 4/8/2008
173. Mr. Beene 4/9/2008
174. Narrow Crossing 4/9/2008
175. No More As Usual 4/9/2008
176. No More 4/9/2008
177. Sad Sacked 4/12/2008
178. Safer To Ignore 4/12/2008
179. Sand Castles 4/12/2008
180. Secrets 4/12/2008
181. Seer 4/12/2008
182. Nothing Nouveau Really 4/9/2008
183. The Wake Of A Dream 4/16/2008
184. The Word 4/16/2008
185. Think About It 4/17/2008
186. Trapped 4/18/2008
187. Tower 2, Floor 87 4/18/2008
188. Return 4/18/2008
189. Trees Of Life 4/18/2008
190. True Art 4/18/2008
191. True Dagger 4/18/2008
192. Two 4/18/2008
193. Two Timing 4/18/2008
194. Undone 4/18/2008
195. Urchin 4/18/2008
196. Washington Square Park In Fall 4/18/2008
197. Watch Winding 4/18/2008
198. Billy The Sixteen-Year-Old Kid 4/19/2008
199. Snowbound 4/19/2008
200. Brain Lapse (Sic 4/19/2008
Best Poem of Laurence Overmire

Quasimodo: To Esmeralda

i look into your eyes
and see the stars
burning quietly
in a midnight sky
and i am humbled.

what hope have i
to rein a winged foal
dancing on a distant cloud
chasing the maiden moon
as she scatters her delicate veils
of luminous dust
on the sleeping earth below.

what hope have i
disfigured and alone
who cannot speak
and dare not feel
you will not hear the silent voice
that clamors in a trembling heart
you will not see the man
imprisoned by the shackles of his soul
you will not know
me.

i leave you now
lift your ...

Read the full of Quasimodo: To Esmeralda

Bards In Arms

Poetry is the last bastion of free speech
The people's pure unfettered voice
We shall defend it at all costs
Against the numbing multitudes
The clamoring adversaries of the free word
The dull-witted patsies, posturing poseurs and
Picky pedants who would
Clamp our verse in chains

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