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Ernest Hemingway (Rules of Writing) My Own Hemingway Poem

Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway was quite an interesting man. He had a certain way of writing; a certain set up. Back then he once states,"The writers job is to tell the truth." everytime he was stuck while writing he would remind himself of this. Start off with the truest sentence you know, it could be anything. Use short sentences and short paragraphs but have multiple sections, don't just let it ...

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ernest hemingwaylovepoemspoetry

Psychology and Poetry in the Same Bed

There's many things behind poetry that is still a mystery today. Why does it make us feel a certain way when certain words are placed together? Is it that it's relatable? Nostalgic? Reassuring? I know many people that don't enjoy poetry and many that do. Why is that? Are those that dislike it close-minded? Does it show they haven't been through what the poem is implying, therefore they can't relat...

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meaningpoemspoetrypoetspsychology

All of His Days

At some indeterminate point

He was deeply hurt

By something or someone.

He spends all of 

His days on this earth

Punishing others for

What he lacks.

-----

See why thoughtful people worldwide love my poetry bookshttps://www.unconventionalbeing.com/poetry-books

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hurt peoplepoemssad poetry

Left Alone | A Poem by Guy Farmer

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It didn't work out,
Maybe because it 
Wasn't meant to be but,
More likely, due to
His penchant for 
Trying to force 
Something to happen
When it really
Should be left alone
On its own path.

-----

Read more of my popular modern poetry at https://www.unconventionalbeing.com/.

 

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lifeown pathpoemsstruggles

Ashes in a Wilderness

To you, readers, I say

I am no writer -

these words

placed themselves

on my page

to tell a story

 

To you, writers, I cry

I am no chronicler -

these tales

spun their web

through my mind

to make a memory

 

To you, poets, I sing

I am no rhymer -

these lines

etched their pattern

on my paper

to form a psalm

 

To you, who come, I whisper

...

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poemsreadersstorieswordswriterswriting

Open Your Eyes to See

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Let me take you by the hand

And bring you on a journey to a different land

Where all is new with exciting news

A mind bending trick 

Made to awaken you in time.

 

Thoughts provoked while you stare at the land

Bringing you closer to the mighty plan

It's nothing to do with a lonely man

Something spouted to you from a deceitful plan.

 

Read beyond what the education s...

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poems

Contradictions

I care about fitness enough to sign up for Zumba classes on Mondays

But not enough to attend them regularly.

I care about my looks enough to spend too much on make-up

But not enough to spend time putting it on properly.

I care about my weight enough to hurl messages of hate at the mirror in the morning

But not enough to resist the packet of biscuits late at night.

I care about my...

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contradictionspoemsslam poetry

The 4th of July

The 4th of July

 

Bruce Levine

 

(To be read in a G & S cadence)

 

Here’s to the 4th of July

Tra la

The Founding Fathers rejoice

Tra la

Though their work is done

There’s much more to come

So

Here’s to the 4th of July

Tra la

 

 

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poems

He's So Peaceful When He Sleep's

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{He's So Peaceful When He Sleep's} 

 

 

It might be weird that I do watch my loving man sleep because it's absolutely adorable to me 

 

and when he lays so peacefully still with his arm around my waist and as I lay beside of him memorizing every line, every wrinkle, every freckle, everything on his face 

 

so hopefully I will never forget his face due to chiari because it caus...

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love poemslove poetryMy Loving HubbyOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverpoemspoetryTina GloverWriting short poemswriting short poetry

Process

what spills onto         the page

falls from                  my mind:

it tells of                   what is there

it tastes of                 my thoughts

so they are                spread here                      with care

                                                                        as verse

the page                    becomes

my mind                    bared

...

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influencepoemspoetryprocessreadingversewriting

My Car.

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Red used to be my favourite colour.

 

I’d just get Tinkerbell (my 1983 Mitsubishi Colt)

cruising nicely at sixty kilometres an hour

then red.

I’d have to slow down.

Pump the brakes.

Change gears gingerly in case her clutch drops out….

 

An old girl now, she needs TLC…

            takes her time to build up speed,

            then I see red. (Or orange.)

Bugger!

...

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FMFMyCarMyCarpoems

Coral Bay

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Coral Bay

 

Snorkelling with rainbows

just past the breaking surf,

I see the red rocky shores

of the North West Cape.

 

Shimmering white sands where

Coastal Daisies, starflowers

and Sturt Peas grope to grip

harsh hot terrain in fighting wind.

 

At Easter, a hundred yards off 

the bay, coral triggers upside down

snowstorms to invite gentle giants

from th...

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Coral BayFMF PoetryNorthWest Australiapoemswhale sharks

Nerves

It’s almost as if you’ve been 
reborn.

The moment 
you can take a breath
without feeling yourself
drowning.
Cement is no longer
running through your veins
slowing every movement,
because now it is only gravel.
Your head is now 
not filled with buzzing static,
and instead 
the distant sound of 
electric storm clouds.
Enraged fire 
replaces the
sleeping snow.

You are finally se...

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anxietydepressiondescriptivefeelingshappinesslifelivingpoemsrecovery

1968 Notebook: Never

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Never

 

What can you say when a dear friend passes away?

That they were good and kind and loved my many?

That they were respected and stood by their beliefs

And are sadly mourned by the ones who weep?

 

Though we realise this must come to us all

inevitably ~ how hard to accept when death

is so final.  When someone you’ve talked to and

done things for has suddenly sto...

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1968NotebookFarewellLostLovedOnespoemsTeenageWritingUneditedPoems

I Am Not Okay

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{I Am Not Okay}

 

 

I am not okay
I am not happy
I am not sure if I want my life to continue on living this freaking nightmare 
I am not beautiful 
I am the one everyone calls the ugly duckling 
I am a incurable plagued person 
I am depression
I am suicidal 
I am a lost cause 
I am hurt 
I am pain
I am sickness
I am a invisible person that no one attends to see beyond the sick...

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fictional characterfictional pieceillnessesinvisible diseaseslifelivingOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverPoemspoetrysadnesssicknessstoriesTina Gloverwordy queenwriting short poemswriting short poetrywriting short stories

Why~Why Did I

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{Why~Why Did I} 

 

 

Why did I love you
Why did I care for you so much
Why did I you break my heart into for 
Why did you promise me the world and to be your  forever queen and all I got was these washed out bull shit lies and dreams from you that rings out loud inside of my head that I wish was freaking dead 
Why~Why did I 
Why did you leave me in this unforgettable heartache to dro...

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fictionalfictional characterfictional pieceOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverPoemspoetrystoriesTinaGloverwriting short poemswriting short poetrywriting short stories

Diary Of The Southern Queen Entry #49 (Doobie-Doobie)

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Diary Of The Southern Queen Entry #49 (Doobie-Doobie) 

 

 

 


(Doobie-Doobie)


When the doobie-doobie drugs don't work any more girl you are just a fool if you think love don't hurt because hot damn it does that's why one more blow to sniff until I cannot breathe 




And when the doobie-doobie-doobie don't work any more as one more sniff and one more puff and popping one more pill until...

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drugsfictionfictionalhurtlifelivingOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverpainpoempoemsPoetrystoriesthinkingthoughtsTina Gloverwriting

Diary Of The Southern Queen Entry #48 (His Fine Self)

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Diary Of The Southern Queen Entry #48 (His Fine Self) 

 

 

 

 

His fine self 

Had my heart bumping, thumping to the never ending thirst of his endless muscles that was rippling like the ocean waters beneath our feet touching every base of my body that had me longing for you to touch me all over my body because it aches for you and do you wanna reach for the never ending thirst fo...

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fictionfictional characterhis bodylustfulOne_Pissed_Off_American_Ghost_Writer/Tina GloverPoemspoetryTina Glover

The Poet's Problem

Impulse is the best linguist

So Mr Thoreau thought

And often what is written here

Is spoiled by what is later brought

 

Yet

All I write and sometimes rhyme

Falls on the page untaught

So needs some tender love and care

Before you see it as you ought

 

So

The lines you read from any page

Should by your ear be caught

As best words ordered to flow well

With...

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DraftingEditingPoemsPoetryThoreauWriting

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