Are You Drinking? (Charles Bukowski Poem)
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook out again I write from the bed as I did last year. will ...
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook out again I write from the bed as I did last year. will ...
Alone on the railroad track I walked with pounding heart. The ties were too close together or maybe too far ...
The brown enormous odor he lived by was too close, with its breathing and thick hair, for him to judge. ...
Unfunny uncles who insist in trying on a lady's hat, --oh, even if the joke falls flat, we share your ...
For Robert Lowell This is the time of year when almost every night the frail, illegal fire balloons appear. Climbing ...
From narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea, home of the long tides where the bay leaves the sea ...
I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). ...
SHE wanders in the April woods, That glisten with the fallen shower; She leans her face against the buds, She ...
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
1 Senlin sits before us, and we see him. He smokes his pipe before us, and we hear him. Is ...
Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind announces autumn, and the equinox rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. ...
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer! For Summer's nearly done; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the sun; Our Thrushes now ...
From our happy home Through the world we roam One week in all the year, Making winter spring With the ...
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy Of Mary's safety with a Boy, Whose birth has given little pain Compared ...
Oh! Mr. Best, you're very bad And all the world shall know it; Your base behaviour shall be sung By ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
The little park planted in memory of a boy who fell in the war begins to resemble him as he ...
Do not accept these rains that come too late. Better to linger. Make your pain An image of the desert. ...
The first rain reminds me Of the rising summer dust. The rain doesn't remember the rain of yesteryear. A year ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
As the kindling glances, Queen-like and clear, Which the bright moon lances From her tranquil sphere At the sleepless waters ...
What should we have taken with us? We never could decide on that; or what to wear, or at what ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
The rest of us watch from beyond the fence as the woman moves with her jagged stride into her pain ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
THE LAZY mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill; How languid the ...
AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime, Are so ...
SOME books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd: Ev'n ministers they hae been ...
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