I just finished reading "on love" which is a collection of poems by the one and only Charles Bukowski.
I loved his crudeness , his raw honesty and his vulgar manners to depict the different stages of his love life throughout the years.
I get why a lot of readers were left appalled by it . And maybe he doesn't paint some sensitive sceneries or talk about love in a romantically appealing kind of ways, but there's where the beauty lies in.
Charles gets straight to the core of things, he doesn't hide the ugliness, doesn't polish the truth of human emotions and interactions. And he led a very unpleasant wild life , so what he talked about, in a very clever use of words , was candidly sincere.
Some poems are quite forgettable and some are too precious to be dismissed .
Especially the ones addressed to his daughter and his first wife .
And here's below , the one poem that I'll fondly remember to the rest of my life :
Bluebird