it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man. — Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man. — Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man. — Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man. — Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man. — Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
Download Customize

it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man.

— Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit
Pin Share Tweet Telegram
Topics
poetry

More “Poetry” Quotes

Complexity is not an aesthetic criterion. It is a quality associated only with division and organization of labor. — Christopher Caudwell, Illusion and Reality: A Study of the Sources of Poetry
This is the hardest part— That boy is not made of fists. That boy learned how to braid my hair. These things do not un-t — Brenna Twohy, Forgive Me My Salt
you remind me of someone i knew. looked just like you but kind. — Taylor Rhodes, moira: a ghost story
when you allow that man. to walk through your children. plant his feet. in their veins. hold their voices. necks. bodies — Nayyirah Waheed, Salt
We look at your eyes. The eyes carry the wounds. The eyes know damage. Damaged people recognize other damaged people, an — Rachel Thompson
the train plunges on through the pitch-black nightI never knew I liked the night pitch-blacksparks fly from the engineI — Nazim Hikmet
I look up upon a sparsely starred abyssHaving wandered to this street cornerIn the middle of the nightWatching the cars — Justin Wetch, Bending The Universe
Under a night’s skyFilled with a hundred billion starsIs it so crazy to believeOur paths were destined to cross? — Justin Wetch, Bending The Universe
Yo me salgo desnudo a la calle,maduro de versos perdidos.I step naked into the streetripe with lost poems. — Federico García Lorca, Collected Poems
A radiant full moon of silver hangs in the black sky, between the veils of misty clouds. — Moonshine Noire
In the darkness and the snow, the street is emptyand it is just the night, the ice and me. — Miriam Joy, Crossroads Poetry
from the prose poem "The Universe Thrums on regardless" in my book SPAN.We are almost nothing in the night. Reduced to w — Jay Woodman, SPAN