Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-halfhandicapping tomorrow'scard.when am I going to get at the poems?well, they'll just have to waitthey'll have to..
© Charles Bukowski
The Shoelace
a woman, atire that’s flat, adisease, adesire: fears in front of you,fears that hold so stillyou can study themlike pieces on achessboard…it’s not..
© Charles Bukowski
The Great Slob
I was always a natural slobI liked to lay upon the bedin undershirt (stained, ofcourse) (and with cigaretteholes)shoes offbeerbottle in handtrying to..
© Charles Bukowski
Short Order
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading,she said.yes, yes? I asked.she's young and pretty, she said.and? I asked.she hated yourguts.
© Charles Bukowski
Small Conversation In The Afternoon With John Fante
he said, "I was working in Hollywood when Faulkner wasworking in Hollywood and he wasthe worst: he was too drunk to stand up at theend of the..
© Charles Bukowski
Layover
Making love in the sun, in the morning sunin a hotel roomabove the alleywhere poor men poke for bottles;making love in the sunmaking love by a carpet..
© Charles Bukowski
What Can We Do?
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.some understanding and, at times, acts ofcouragebut all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn'thave..
© Charles Bukowski
On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show
they talk down throughthe centuries to us,and this we need more and more,the statues and paintingsin midnight ageas we go alongholding dead hands.and..
© Charles Bukowski
Sleep
she was a short onegetting fat and she had once beenbeautiful andshe drank the wineshe drank the wine in bed andtalked and screamed and cursed..
© Charles Bukowski
Crucifix In A Deathhand
yes, they begin out in a willow, I thinkthe starch mountains begin out in the willowand keep right on going without regard forpumas and..
© Charles Bukowski
The House
They are building a househalf a block downand I sit up herewith the shades downlistening to the sounds,the hammers pounding in nails,thack thack..
© Charles Bukowski
No. 6
I'll settle for the 6 horseon a rainy afternoona paper cup of coffeein my handa little way to go,the wind twirling outsmall wrens fromthe upper..
© Charles Bukowski
Show Biz
I can't have itand you can't have itand we won'tget itso don't bet on itor even think aboutitjust get out of bedeach..
© Charles Bukowski
Luck
oncewe were youngat thismachine...drinkingsmokingtypingit was a mostsplendidmiraculoustimestillisonly nowinstead ofmoving towardtimeitmoves..
© Charles Bukowski
Here I Am ...
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottleof wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages ofpoesyan old manmaddened for the flesh of young..
© Charles Bukowski
Poem For My 43rd Birthday
To end up alonein a tomb of a roomwithout cigarettesor wine--just a lightbulband a potbelly,grayhaired,and glad to havethe room.
© Charles Bukowski
Question And Answer
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summernight, running the blade of the knifeunder his fingernails, smiling, thinkingof all the letters he had..
© Charles Bukowski
Splash
the illusion is that you are simplyreading this poem.the reality is that this ismore than apoem.this is a beggar's knife.this is a tulip.this is a..
© Charles Bukowski
My Friend, The Parking Lot Attendant
—he's a dandy—small moustache—usually sucking on a cigarhe tends to lean into cars as hetransacts businessfirst time I met him, he said,"hey! ya..
© Charles Bukowski
What A Writer
what i liked about e.e. cummingswas that he cut away fromthe holiness of thewordand with charmand gamblegave us linesthat sliced through thedung.how..
© Charles Bukowski
My Computer
"what?" they say, "you got acomputer?"it's like I have sold out tothe enemy.I had no idea so manypeople were prejudicedagainstcomputers.even two..
© Charles Bukowski
Paris
nevereven in calmer timeshave I everdreamed ofbicycling through thatcitywearing aberetandCamusalwayspissedmeoff.
© Charles Bukowski
It Was Just A Little While Ago
almost dawnblackbirds on the telephone wirewaitingas I eat yesterday'sforgotten sandwichat 6 a.m.an a quiet Sunday morning.one shoe in the..
© Charles Bukowski
Finished?
the critics now have medrinking champagne anddriving a BMWand also married to asocialite fromPhiladelphia's Main Linewhich of course is going to..
© Charles Bukowski