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Charlie Knowlton Poem
Top 10 things my dogs have never said to me. Ever!
Number 10…"Can we get a cat?"
Number 9…"No,…As a matter of fact I`m not happy to see you."
Number 8…"That`s ok, you eat the rest of that rib eye."
Number 7…"Sorry about your friends leg, and of course i`ll pay for the pillow."
Number 6…"Do I need a mint?"
Number 5…"And where have you been?"
Number 4…"Is there a 12 step group for butt sniffing?"
Number 3…"Please!…Do not rub my belly or scratch my ears. "
Number 2…" You threw it…You go get it."
And the number 1 answer is!
"That`s your third beer ya know."
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
bent over the wheel
the plumber rolls down his window
just a crack
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
taken
from henhouse
poached eggs
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
stray cat under moonlight
looks up pauses and moves on
no regrets
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
stars strung like diamonds
moon precious as a pearl
sparkling gem of a night
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
The
sun today rose like
a slice of lemon
that grips the
salty edge of
an ice cold
margarita
badly
i
n
n
e
e
d
of an
extra shot of
tequila for warmth
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
Born Joseph Ferdinand Gould, in Norwood Massachusetts, 1889.
A 1911 graduate of Harvard, and a
Greenwich village Bohemian from 1916 until 1957,
and the time of his death at age 68.
Joe was a filthy and disgusting man, who constantly smelled
like homeless shelter disinfectant.
Dirty fingers, greasy clothes but also an intellectual.
He was a writer, a poet, a lier and a bum, A thief and
A drunk, and other poets hated him and he hated them.
He once told them that "Not only is your poetry bad, but
also stolen from other bad poets."
One night he convinced them that he had written the
most wonderful poem, and that they should allow him
to stand and recite it, and they did.
Joe stood up that night back in 1942, in the Raven poetry club
in New york city`s Lower East side, and read his poem.
" In winter I`m a Buddhist,
and in summer I`m a nudist."
With that I raise my glass to you Joe Gould. I wish I had known ya!
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
"After the tone, please leave a brief message."
Hello?…..Bob?…Are you there?
This is Charlie, and all mine have a tear.
Call me back and we`ll talk underwear…
…..Briefly!
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
They`re heart`s like an egg forever hardboiled,
friends that betrayed, dreams that were foiled.
Protecting it`s shell and those whom were loyal,
toys of their youth, their health, all now spoiled spoiled.
They`re heart`s like an egg forever hardboiled.
Decisions, regrets, a life of turmoil,
choices, bad bets, and days of hard toil,
they fall to their beds, body in coil.
They`re heart`s like an egg, forever hardboiled.
Doing their best only turning up roiled.
Controversial at best, always embroiled,
and they no longer fear, being planted in soil.
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2018
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Charlie Knowlton Poem
witness to a crime
a chipmunk with a mouthful
wouldt say bleep
Copyright © Charlie Knowlton | Year Posted 2019
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