Charles Bukowski

(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

Three Oranges


first time my father overheard me listening to
this bit of music he asked me,
"what is it?"
"it's called Love For Three Oranges,"
I informed him.
"boy," he said, "that's getting it
cheap."
he meant sex.
listening to it
I always imagined three oranges
sitting there,
you know how orange they can
get,
so mightily orange.
maybe Prokofiev had meant
what my father
thought.
if so, I preferred it the
other way
the most horrible thing
I could think of
was part of me being
what ejaculated out of the
end of his
stupid penis.
I will never forgive him
for that,
his trick that I am stuck
with,
I find no nobility in
parenthood.
I say kill the Father
before he makes more
such as
I.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003
Edited: Thursday, April 28, 2011

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

Read poems about / on: father, music, time

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 (Three Oranges by Charles Bukowski )

Enter the verification code :

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. the tail of poet, ademola oluwabusayo
  2. the way of the world, ademola oluwabusayo
  3. HELPLESS, Soumita Sarkar Ray
  4. A piece of my ground, Soumita Sarkar Ray
  5. Tick Tock, Michael Mira
  6. Love Burns, Khairul Ahsan
  7. Whispers, Mihaela Pirjol
  8. For Your Family Pride, Are You Going To .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  9. The Tears of A Woman, Who Can Underatnd .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  10. Love Is A Groovy Thing, Electric Lady

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]