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Luann Jung May 2016
Grow up: airplanes aren't shooting stars.

You're beautiful yet cold, like snow.

Someday I will meet you there.
Inspired by Ernest Hemingway
Kurt Carman Apr 2016
I'll be dreaming tonight..
Yes I'll be dreamin' tonight
Of a Trico hatch that's goes off like a New England snow storm
A Loaded five weight by my side, with plenty of backing to spare.

I'll be dreaming tonight
Of a Montana highway leading me back home,
Home to the Firehole bridge, a purple sky ablaze
Salmo Trutta, my brother from below

I'll be dreaming of Casting tight loops below Kilpatrick Pond,
I catch a glimpse of Ernest smiling on the bank
The Hemingway legacy lives on at Silver Creek
As we wait for the  green drake hatches to fill the air!

I'll be dreaming tonight of days gone by,
When a young boy caught his first German brown.
Neversink, you  beckon me to the days long ago
I feel the force of the river pull me from a deep sleep.

And I awaken to the thought of......Tight Lines!
Thinking of all the years fly fishing the wonderful river both east and west. None better than the trip we made to Yellowstone, Provo Valley and silver creek Idaho.
Grace Victoria Oct 2015
i missed you, but not anymore
a six word story
E Townsend Sep 2015
One day we were counting
the ghosts of our mistakes
and you randomly brought up,
"Ernest Hemingway saved his manuscripts
by throwing them out the upstairs window
while his studio was burning."

I compared you to Hemingway
that a man can love words
more than an actual person,
more than his own life at stake.

To which I responded,
as I hope it marred your mind,
“I liked the idea of loving you.
I wanted some sort of filler
to compensate for the feelings I got.”

Your fixation was intensely unnerving,
like you were unwrapping every vein that rippled in my body.
I carried on, watching the embers of fault lick you profusely.

“For some reason, I use people until there’s nothing left to use.
Romantically, I used you to cover what I wanted-
Cast you in daydreams where it is like this right now,
in a coffee shop underneath the streetlights.

“It was all the idea of it.
As much as I wanted to make up our relationship,
I couldn’t imagine what it was like to really be with you.
To be close to you, your hand in mine,
to watch your favorite movies under a warm blanket, to jump
in the car with you to chase a sunset.
To have you text me at two in the morning
and tell me I’m beautiful.”

You began to protest,
but I wouldn’t listen.
There is something satisfying
in expressing true happiness
rather than dwelling on it in your mind.
I knew you weren’t giving me that.

“So I don’t think I was ever in love with you.
Just the thought of you.”
deeplyhollowed Jul 2015
Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.
One of my favorites! Fell in love with this poem when I was in high school.
Ernest Mar 2015
I saw him,
I met him,
I knew him.
Tall dark and handsome.
Feeling his eyes dancing on my skin.
His slim slender figure peering in my direction.
Eyes mesmerising:
An endearing young gentleman.
I saw him,
I met him,
I knew him,
I love him.

I saw her,
I met her,
I knew her.
A young beautiful flower.
Her captivating thin figure within my sight.
Her skin responding to my massaging eyes
A glowing tantalizing frame:
An intelligent striking young lady.
I saw her,
I met her,
I knew her,
I love her.
I wrote this as a 25th wedding anniversary gift to both my parents. I hope you do enjoy it as they did; and I did, writing it.
https://soundcloud.com/ernest-the-poet/i-saw-him
Mara Jan 2015
Four parts, woven together
Uniting all universal truths
What others do with it's powers
Only the future will prove

The *first strand
displays the world's true nature
Destroying everything it creates
We become unwanted children
Who have learned to incorporate
Killing in our communities
Biting, grinding flesh and bone
Swallowing with guilt free demeanors
Only leaving foul-stenched excretions as evidence

Second Strand speaks of our basic biological anxiety
To deny the terror of death
Imperatively born, emerging from nothing
Given a name and consciousness
Hopelessly abandoned from the beginning
Only to be fated always with everlasting death

Strand three
We hide underneath the
"Vital lie of the character"
Pretend to be shining knights in armor
Who will make us forget our
Unconscious anxiousness of death
We all work to attain prestige, money, and the
Fleeting feel of immortality
Worshiping Gods with clay feet
And when our beliefs are attacked
"Holy wars" becomes the pseudonym for
Our immortality projects

The last strand
All the efforts we put into
Making this Earth perfect
By eliminating scapegoat "enemies" and "evil" deities
We end up making everything filthy
In the effort to make everything right and pure
We turn the Earth's soil black and color the sky red
We strived for utopias, making dystopians
All these actions seem unconscious
But it is not the animals nature or
Evolutionary process
It's just us trying to pretend
We don't have perishable bodies;
Trying to deny death
Inspired by Ernest Becker's philosophical book 'Denial of Death'
emily grace Jul 2014
Ernest Hemingway once said to write hard and clear about what hurts
what he didn't say
was how hard it would be
to write about the raw feeling my heart would get
when you ripped your part away
and he did not speak of how difficult it would be
to choke back everything
and leave it for the night sky to listen to my broken cries for you

he never mentioned in that quote
what it would be like to find you with another
and how i'd have to feign happiness
when all i saw around me was blackness
and how when i saw you for the first time
after the storm
you'd look at me like i was a foreigner
someone who never kissed your lips
or touched your skin
and while my fingertips burned with recognition of the soft yet hard skin of you
you turned the other cheek, the one i kissed endlessly

when i read that quote
i thought long and hard about what hurts
and the first thought that came to me
was you
it will always be you

— The End —