Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

It's Ours


there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it's worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all

ever.


Anonymous submission.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: water

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (It's Ours by Charles Bukowski )

Enter the verification code :

  • Robert Quilter (12/12/2008 10:08:00 AM)

    Lovely, original thought.So that moment, and the fact we can experience makes us different from the rest of the animals. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

New Poems

  1. Palestinian DNA, Saiom Shriver
  2. Challengers for July's Contest - You Can.., Brian Johnston
  3. , Emily Kawai
  4. , Emily Kawai
  5. Armies Of Angels, Saiom Shriver
  6. Departing Memories, Midnights Voice
  7. one hundred and twenty two miles, days, .., Mandolyn ...
  8. July 31,2014, Erica Borges
  9. Where Did It Go To?, Brian Johnston
  10. The Unapologetic Apology To My Mother (A.., Maurice Harris

Poem of the Day

poet Percy Bysshe Shelley

We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Jessie Mackay

 
[Hata Bildir]