Charles Bukowski Poems
|122.||Crucifix In A Deathhand||3/31/2010|
|123.||Cows In Art Class||1/13/2003|
|124.||Consummation Of Grief||1/13/2003|
|126.||Close To Greatness||1/3/2003|
|127.||Cause And Effect||1/13/2003|
|130.||Big Night On The Town||1/13/2003|
|132.||Back To The Machine Gun||1/3/2003|
|133.||As The Sparrow||1/13/2003|
|134.||As The Poems Go||1/13/2003|
|135.||Are You Drinking?||1/13/2003|
|137.||And The Moon And The Stars And The World||1/13/2003|
|138.||An Almost Made Up Poem||1/13/2003|
|139.||Alone With Everybody||1/1/2004|
|140.||About My Very Tortured Friend, Peter||3/31/2010|
|141.||A Smile To Remember||1/3/2003|
|142.||A Radio With Guts||1/13/2003|
|144.||A Challenge To The Dark||1/13/2003|
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
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, ...
this time has finished me.