Henry Charles Bukowski

charles bukowski, american poet, poetry, poems

I don't know if we would have been friends or not, but there's that undefinable quality I like about Henry Charles Bukowski. I respect the blatant in your face honesty, yet I don't care much for some of the descriptive phrases and words he uses, even though they were necessary. It was his style, and without it …


If you were here

if you were here, friend, loneliness, poetry

If you were here we'd reminisce about the old days but we'd surely remember things differently like we always did don't you think? at last recollection we did not say farewell you and I you know they asked about you when I was there at the gathering some twenty years later because you weren't in attendance what …


pandemonium, looking for love, music, drunk, poetry

Bring it on musical pandemonium drunken squalor dreaming screaming kicking holler time upon tomorrow's delirium across the bar broken vows in memory afar searching empty adoring eyes another you drinking warm coffee in five morning stranger pillowed head formless words escape closing doors elements read saving ashes craving driving horizon sheets worth saving surviving   …

Immortal words

immortal words, poetry, steven humphreys

Immortal words leave your tide garden dancing with birds keep your inarticulate orange tree blossoms cool hearted and dim the same moon shines always upon earthworms nightingales and unbridled symphonies in unending seas of unfolding foam delightfully finger-marked cymbals ting  


iris, poetry, steven humphreys

Dance the flowered patch cloud iris purple rainbow in devoted nimble radiance your temple glows till dawn a cherub's flute tweets summoning urgent morning demands hovering mute doves drink sweet mossy water ivy braided pond garden nymphs abound standing gleaming praying full new swan moon rising illuminating Olympus none the lovelier


epitaph, death, poetry, steven humphreys

Like it says in the epitaph below... 'of my own volition, I have endlessly searched for the (I) which seemingly resides within me yet to the best of my human ability cannot be located nor found' therefore I will pass like the billions of others before me with hopes and dreams unfulfilled Mastery of the great …

Shadow of the cat

shadow of the cat, poetry, steven humphreys

Shadow of the cat an honest heart crept under shutters of your window against the spotlight moon resides in your soul clawing at your feet under covers his sermon a child in the world this little actor bequeaths his whole vocation an innocent soul relinquishing affection of immensity a benediction

A father’s love

a father's love, father's day

To those who never had a father's love it's absence meant everything. it is what changed their world forever. and, to those who were fortunate enough to receive it in abundance you had been molded by it making you into the person you are like the molded clay who knows not the significance of its maker