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").
Trollius And Trellises
of course, I may die in the next ten minutesand I’m ready for thatbut what I’m really worried about isthat my editor-publisher might retireeven..
© Charles Bukowski
The Trash Men
here they comethese guysgrey truckradio playingthey are in a hurryit’s quite exciting:shirt openbellies hanging outthey run out the trash binsroll..
© Charles Bukowski
The Last Days Of The Suicide Kid
I can see myself nowafter all these suicide days and nights,being wheeled out of one of those sterile rest homes(of course, this is only if I get..
© Charles Bukowski
Hell Is A Lonely Place
he was 65, his wife was 66, hadAlzheimer's disease.he had cancer of themouth.there wereoperations, radiationtreatmentswhich decayed the bones in..
© Charles Bukowski
I Am Visited By An Editor And A Poet
I had just won $115 from the headshakers andwas naked upon my bedlistening to an opera by one of the Italiansand had just gotten rid of a very loose..
© Charles Bukowski
The Japanese Wife
O lord, he said, Japanese women,real women, they have not forgotten,bowing and smilingclosing the wounds men have made;but American women will kill..
© Charles Bukowski
German
being the German kid in the 20's in Los Angeleswas difficult.there was much anti-German feeling then,a carry-over from World War 1.gangs of kids..
© Charles Bukowski
Goading The Muse
this man used to be aninteresting writer,he was able to say brisk andrefreshing things.at the timeI suggested to the editors andthe critics that he..
© Charles Bukowski
Gas
my grandmother had a serious gasproblem.we only saw her on Sunday.she'd sit down to dinnerand she'd have gas.she was very heavy,80 years old.wore..
© Charles Bukowski
air and light and time and space
'- you know, I've either had a family, a job, somethinghas always been in thewaybut nowI've sold my house, I've found thisplace, a large studio, you..
© Charles Bukowski
So You Want To Be A Writer
if it doesn't come bursting out of youin spite of everything,don't do it.unless it comes unasked out of yourheart and your mind and your mouthand..
© Charles Bukowski
New Mexico
I was fairly drunk when itbegan and I took out my bottle and used italong the way. I was reading a week or two afterKandel and I did not look quite..
© Charles Bukowski
The Sun Wields Mercy
and the sun wields mercybut like a jet torch carried to high,and the jets whip across its sightand rockets leap like toads,and the boys get out the..
© Charles Bukowski
Marina
majestic, majicinfinitemy little girl issunon the carpet-out the doorpicking a flower, ha!an old man,battle-wrecked,emerges from hischairand she..
© Charles Bukowski
The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth
if I suffer at thistypewriterthink how I'd feelamong the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
© Charles Bukowski
Mama
here I amin the groundmy mouthopenandI can't even saymama,andthe dogs run by and stop and pisson my stone; I get it allexcept the sunand my suit is..
© Charles Bukowski
The Night I Was Going To Die
the night I was going to dieI was sweating on the bedand I could hear the cricketsand there was a cat fight outsideand I could feel my soul dropping..
© Charles Bukowski
The Blackbirds Are Rough Today
lonely as a dry and used orchardspread over the earthfor use and surrender.shot down like an ex-pug sellingdailies on the corner.taken by tears..
© Charles Bukowski
Rain Or Shine
the vultures at the zoo(all three of them)sit very quietly in theircaged treeand belowon the groundare chunks of rotten meat.the vultures are..
© Charles Bukowski
Magical Mystery Tour
I am in this low-slung sports carpainted a deep, rich yellowdriving under an Italian sun.I have a British accent.I'm wearing dark shadesan expensive..
© Charles Bukowski
This
self-congratulatory nonsense as thefamous gather to applaud their seeminggreatnessyouwonder wherethe real ones arewhatgiant cavehides themasthe..
© Charles Bukowski
Hemingway Never Did This
I read that he lost a suitcase full of manuscripts on atrain and that they never were recovered.I can't match the agony of thisbut the other night I..
© Charles Bukowski
One Thirty-Six A.M.
I laugh sometimes when I think aboutsayCéline at a typewriteror Dostoevsky...or Hamsun...ordinary men with feet, ears, eyes,ordinary men with hair on..
© Charles Bukowski