Hello there. I recently came across some poems I had written back in high school and college; while a lot of them are, well, not great, there were a few upon re-reading after all this time that I am still pretty happy with.
Here’s one I wrote about Ernest Hemingway back in May 2002. I hope that you like it. 🙂
The “last round” bell clanged, sending
Island night owls slowly shuffling out.
Drunkenly, Ernest eyed the lighthouse above tops of trees
Showing the way home, stumbling back from Sloppy Joe’s.
Cracked chips of paint cling
To his hands in the humidity, from clutching too tightly
At railings, mounting the porch steps where
Six-toed felines and a wife wait on Whitehead Street.
Frenetic keystrokes compose chapter after chapter, putting genius on paper
Before electroshock and shotgun solitude can take it away
Like Castro confiscated his Cuba, leaving
An old man and his sea of sorrow, stretching
Ninety miles to Havana Harbor.