I posted the poem somewhere else but it belongs in this thread.
Enjoy your wine or cup of tea today.
Cheers, y'all.
poet dies
and nobody give a damn
he was one of us,
one of the best among us,
and we mark his passing.
garlands for the grave of Charles Bukowski
will romantics lay roses on his tomb like they do in Paris
for Jim Morrisson?
or spray paint tokens of their love
their admiration,
their adulation
across his granite
headstone?
this is for me. these are my roses. he's
dead and can't smell them
where he is now
and forever.
© David Barker