Not Long Left

Rookie (17.05.1981 / The Molten Core)

The Bus And Bukowski - Poem by Not Long Left

with rain,
tapping on my head,
and wind,
whipping my face,
the day is washed away.
As the bus,
bullies it way through,
the traffic,
it pulls into my stop,
the wind from it's heavy movement,
snatches the pages from my hands,
Bukowski's bold printed,
words scattered like leaves,
upon the street.
ruturned to the source,
of there inspiration

Comments about The Bus And Bukowski by Not Long Left

  • (11/8/2005 10:52:00 AM)

    eh, not a bad effort, Vincent. but ol' Bukowski is dead.

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  • (11/8/2005 5:14:00 AM)

    Nice poem vincent. But read this poem again and correct some minor spelling errors. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 8, 2005

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