The journey back
The trail
An Author of books
“FOR WHOM THE BELLS TOLL” my look
From Miami to Key West
The whom being I
4 hour venture to tour Ernest Hemingway’s house in Key West, Florida
Through his writings encouraged me to write
Extending my own words into theory
Mr. Hemingway being the vision of what words can be, and illustrating thoughts
The whom being can
The glance and grasp
I did a critical analysis of my College English 101 Professor’s Assigned I chose “FOR WHOM THE BELLS TOLL”
I got an A for my analysis of the book
Ernest Hemingway was an impact
His words bringing fact
His accomplishments are hard to keep track
Ernest Hemingway write up
Analysis complete.
Ernest Hemingway:
live it to write about it;
book is loyal friend
Hemingway is nice big writer won Nobel Prize in Literature
I really love to read Hemingway do you love to read him too?
he persevered through struggle conquering his courage and compassion
we go to great lengths to win ~ and in the end find that we've won nothing
the stillborn baby, gone- then mother too;
wrapped arms 'round my unborn child.
Thou tis poetry
Paper meets pen
Yet thus ink surrounding
Thine words of
Tis poetry is
What shall be
Shall be
I passed through Ketchum
Losing my mind
Surrounded by talking walls
One drink turns to a bottle
I try to write
Poetry is poetry
At the moment I drink surrounded by walls and I write" I was here then I was gone"
Once for whom the bell tolls did exist
the playwright and the war journalist.
Wilde had an ego that’s true
but Hemingway always knew
the importance of being Ernest!
Written: May 2015
The re-read (poet)
Hemingway was a writer suffering from a disabling inhibition,
the conversation he had with women in his books are based
on wishes and not reality.
Women in his life were stronger than him, he tried
to compensate by bawdy behavior, it always ended with him
stroking the cat and she going back to the USA.
Ernest Heming way was an alcoholic who made his hero
take care center stage.
At times he wrote like an angel there, are lines in his writing
that is high-class poetry.
After reading his work, setting aside his bragging
he was a great poet.
Today, writers do not drown in drink
~ Yet poets still fill the world with ink
A boat crafted of rickety wood dragging a clumsy bottom
A briny sea inhales the morning sun
Hemingway is in my boat
Rubbing my weary eyes,
Is that you, I query
Call me Papa, he proffers
With my papers clinched in leathery hands
Did you read my book; I ask?
Not bad, he replies, too many words
Too many, I ponder
Icebergs, pointing crooked fingers to the empty north
Good books are like icebergs
Cold, I expect
No, you foolish fool, Papa spits
Dried and cracked lips sneering
My hope sinks
Shifting like the wind, he smiles
There are no wars in your book
Wars? My story is about a blind fisherman
You didn’t read it, Papa
Too many useless words, and no wars
A good story is of war
And women, whores with ruby lips that pucker like a fish
And thighs stronger than Hercules’ conquest
And rum, lots of rum
And fewer words
Wars, whores, and rum
Can you write that, foolish fool?
With fewer words?
And no goddamned fisherman
I was in a rickety boat made of wood tossed by briny seas
Hemingway is drinking rum and singing about wars
And whores with ruby lips
A big fish comes
The big fish swallows Papa
Fewer words
What Hemingway Saw And Felt That Summer
floor, rat eaten shoe
fisherman and lake in tune
dawn, eggs and bacon
Robert J. Lindley, 4-04-2018
Haiku, ( Life, Living and Time)
Are those thoughts you put in
what I once valued more
Or would what I put out
be the end winning score
Did I need your ears
for my voice to become whole
Or would I rather them deafened
words deep in my soul
In my twenties your opinion
carried some weight
In my thirties I listened
but asked you to wait
In my forties I turned
and walked slowly away
Now alone in the twilight
—to carry the day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Virility of a writer,
an adventure...
you would find,
out in the bush!
For the big hunt
to unwind...
your clock,
in time.
Only to come undone,
and for victory
you had won.
All in full flower...
for a while,
with one big smile!
Out in the deep sea
with the marlin,
or just a bull ring...
you would find.
Anything for a fight!
A true Bohemian...
in the night.
And in your life,
you found much strife.
Just to know you
for your writing...
at it's best!
Sub Categories
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