Richard Brautigan Poems
A collection of select Richard Brautigan famous poems that were written by Richard Brautigan or written about the poet by other famous poets. PoetrySoup is a comprehensive educational resource of the greatest poems and poets on history.
Don't forget to view our
Richard Brautigan
home page with links to biographical information, articles, and more poems that may not be listed here.
See also:
by
Richard Brautigan
I feel horrible. She doesn't
love me and I wander around
like a sewing machine
that's just finished sewing
a turd to a garbage can lid....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
My God, I heard this day,
That none doth build a stately habitation,
But he that means to dwell therein.
What house more stately hath there been,
Or can be, than is Man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.
For Man is ev'ry thing,
And more:
He is a tree, yet bears no fruit;
A beast, yet is,...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
I sit here, an arch-villain of romance,
thinking about you. Gee, I'm sorry
I made you unhappy, but there was nothing
I could do about it because I have to be free.
Perhaps everything would have been different
if you had stayed at the table or asked me
to go out with you to look at the moon,
instead...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
I am standing in the cemetery at Byrds, Texas.
What did Judy say? "God-forsaken is beautiful, too."
A very old man who has cancer on his face and takes
care of the cemetery, is raking a grave in such a
manner as to almost (polish it like a piece of silver.
An old dog stands beside him. It's a hot day: 105.
What am I...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
It's so nice
to wake up in the morning
all alone
and not have to tell somebody
you love them
when you don't love them
any more....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
I live in the Twentieth Century
and you lie here beside me. You
were unhappy when you fell asleep.
There was nothing I could do about
it. I felt hopeless. Your face
is so beautiful that I cannot stop
to describe it, and there's nothing
I can do to make you happy while
you sleep....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
The sweet juices of your mouth
are like castles bathed in honey.
I've never had it done so gently before.
You have put a circle of castles
around my ***** and you swirl them
like sunlight on the wings of birds....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
For Marcia
Because you always have a clock
strapped to your body, it's natural
that I should think of you as the
correct time:
with your long blonde hair at 8:03,
and your pulse-lightning breasts at
11:17, and your rose-meow smile at 5:30,
I know I'm right....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Forget love
I want to die
in your yellow hair...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something--...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
It's night
and a numbered beauty
lapses at the wind,
chortles with the
branches of a tree,
giggles,
plays shadow dance
with a dead kite,
cajoles affection
from falling leaves,
and knows four
other things.
One is the color
of your hair....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Thinking hard about you
I got on the bus
and paid 30 cents car fare
and asked the driver for two transfers
before discovering
that I was
alone....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Yup.
A long lazy September look
in the mirror
say it's true.
I'm 31
and my nose is growing
old.
It starts about 1/2
an inch
below the bridge
and strolls geriatrically
down
for another inch or so:
stopping.
Fortunately, the rest
of the nose is comparatively
young.
I wonder if girls
will want me with an
old nose.
I can hear them now
the heartless bitches!
"He's cute
but his nose
is old."...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
My heart went fluttering with fear
Lest you should go, and leave me here
To beat my breast and rock my head
And stretch me sleepless on my bed.
Ah, clear they see and true they say
That one shall weep, and one shall stray
For such is Love's unvarying law....
I never thought, I never saw
That I should be the first to go;
How pleasant that...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard
Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown.
By accident, you put
Your money in my
Machine (#4)
By accident, I put
My money in another
Machine (#6)
On purpose, I put
Your clothes in the
Empty machine full
Of water and no
Clothes
It was lonely....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Everybody wants to go to bed
with everybody else, they're
lined up for blocks, so I'll
go to bed with you. They won't
miss us....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Ah,
you're just a copy
of all the candy bars
I've ever eaten....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Do you think of me
as often
as I think
of you?...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
1.
Get enough food to eat,
and eat it.
2.
Find a place to sleep where it is quiet,
and sleep there.
3.
Reduce intellectual and emotional noise
until you arrive at the silence of yourself,
and listen to it....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking
about you.
Pissing a few moments ago
I looked down at my *****
affectionately.
Knowing it has been inside
you twice today makes me
feel beautiful.
3 A.M.
January 15, 1967...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
ZAP!
unlaid / 20 days
my sexual image
isn't worth a ****.
If I were dead
I couldn't attract
a female fly....Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
La voyageuse qui traverse les Halles à la tombée de l'été
Marchait sur la pointe des pieds
Le désespoir roulait au ciel ses grands arums si beaux
Et dans le sac à main il y avait mon rêve ce flacon de sels
Que seule a respiré la marraine de Dieu
Les torpeurs se déployaient comme la buée
Au Chien qui fume
Ou venaient d'entrer le pour...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it...Read more of this...
by
Richard Brautigan
There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of...Read more of this...