The Retreat poem by Charles Bukowski

The Retreat poem by Charles Bukowski

The Retreat

this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops
whipped by snow and the communists
walking bent
with newspapers stuffed into
worn boots.
my plight is just as terrible.
maybe more so.
victory was so close
victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror
younger and more beautiful than
any woman I had ever known
combing yards and yards of red hair
as I watched her.
and when she came to bed
she was more beautiful than ever
and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she’s gone
gone as they go.

this time has finished me.
it’s a long road back
and back to where?
the guy ahead of me
falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?

***

Posted in art music poetry, Charles Bukowski, Famous Poets, Poetry Posts

Bukowski Poems

8 Count
A Challenge To The Dark
A Following
A Radio With Guts
A Smile to Renember
Alone With Everybody
An Almost Made Up Poem 
And The Moon And The Stars And The World
ANOTHER BED
Another Day
Are You Drinking?
AS CRAZY AS I EVER WAS
As The Poems Go
As The Sparrow
At the track today
Back to the Machine Gun
BAD TIMES AT THE 3RD AND VERMONT HOTEL
Be Angry At San Pedro
Be Kind
BEER
Big Night On The Town
Bluebird Poem
Cause And Effect
Confession
Cows In Art Class
Cut While Shaving
Death of an idiot
Death Wants More Death
Eat Your Heart Out This is It
Flophouse
For The Foxes
Freedom  and He Drank Wine All Night
Gamblers All Not Going to Make it
God I got the sad blue blues
Grief
Hell is a Lonely Place
I don’t know what to do
I Made A Mistake
In the hospitals and jails
Love & Fame & Death
man in the sun 
My Father
My First Affair With That Older Woman
My Groupie
New Mexico
NIGHT SCHOOL
Nirvana
 On Going Back To The Street After Viewing An Art Show
Question and Answer
Rain Or Shine Vultures at the Zoo
Roll the Dice
Ruin
SHE SAID
Short Order
Show Biz
Sleep
Some People Never Go Crazy
Sparrow
THE ALIENS
The Blackbirds are Rough Today
The Great Poet
The Great Slob
The History Of One Tough Motherfucker Stray Cat Poe
The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth
The Poetry Reading
The Secret Of My Endurance

The Shower
The wind blows hard tonight
They are building a house
They found him walking along the freeway
They only burn themselves to reach Paradise
This time has finished me
THOSE GIRLS WE FOLLOWED HOME
To the whore who took my s
Traffic report
Trapped don’t undress my love mannequin
Trash can
Upon reading a critical review
Van Gogh
We Ain’t Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
what i liked about e.e. cummings
Who In The Hell Is Tom Jones
Young in New Orleans