Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Charles Bukowski Poems

81. Now 1/13/2003
82. Oh Yes 1/13/2003
83. On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show 1/13/2003
84. On The Fire Suicides Of The Buddhists 1/13/2015
85. One Thirty-Six A.M. 1/3/2003
86. Out Of The Arm Of One Love... 1/13/2003
87. Paris 1/3/2003
88. Poem For My 43rd Birthday 1/13/2003
89. Poetry 1/13/2003
90. Poetry Reading 1/13/2003
91. Pull A String, A Puppet Moves 1/13/2003
92. Question And Answer 1/13/2003
93. Rain 1/13/2003
94. Rain Or Shine 1/1/2004
95. Raw With Love 1/1/2004
96. Revolt In The Ranks 1/13/2003
97. Rhyming Poem 1/13/2003
98. Shoes 1/13/2003
99. Short Order 1/13/2003
100. Show Biz 1/13/2003
101. Sleep 1/13/2003
102. Small Conversation In The Afternoon With John Fante 1/3/2003
103. So Now? 1/13/2003
104. So You Want To Be A Writer 3/23/2015
105. Some People 1/13/2003
106. Somebody 1/13/2003
107. Something For The Touts, The Nuns, The Grocery Clerks, And You . . . 1/13/2003
108. Splash 1/3/2003
109. Sway With Me 1/13/2003
110. The Aliens 1/13/2003
111. The Blackbirds Are Rough Today 1/3/2003
112. The Crunch 1/3/2003
113. The Genius Of The Crowd 1/13/2003
114. The German Hotel 1/3/2003
115. The Great Slob 1/3/2003
116. The House 1/13/2003
117. The Icecream People 1/13/2003
118. The Japanese Wife 3/31/2010
119. The Last Days Of The Suicide Kid 1/14/2015
120. The Laughing Heart 12/30/2013
Best Poem of Charles Bukowski

A Smile To Remember

we had goldfish and they circled around and around
in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes
covering the picture window and
my mother, always smiling, wanting us all
to be happy, told me, 'be happy Henry!'
and she was right: it's better to be happy if you
can
but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while
raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn't
understand what was attacking him from within.

my mother, poor fish,
wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a
week, telling me to be happy: 'Henry, ...

Read the full of A Smile To Remember

These Things

these things that we support most well
have nothing to do with up,
and we do with them
out of boredom or fear or money
or cracked intelligence;
our circle and our candle of light
being small,
so small we cannot bear it,
we heave out with Idea

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