Poeticous Logo
en
English Español Français Italiano
Summer Storm near Pulborough, Sussex, by Samuel Palmer
Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway

Mitraigliatrice
The mills of the gods grind slowly;
But this mill
Chatters in mechanical staccato.
Ugly short infantry of the mind,
Advancing over difficult terrain,
Make this Corona
Their mitrailleuse.

#AmericanWriters #Suicide #1923 #ThreeStoriesAndTenPoems

1
Liked or faved by...
Mark Sallee
Other works by Ernest Hemingway...
I'm Off'n Wild Wimmen

I’m off’n wild wimmen An Cognac An Sinnin’ For I’m in loOOOOOOOve.
 2
The Soul of Spain With McAlmon and Bird the Publishers

In the rain in the rain in the rai… Does it rain in Spain? Oh yes my dear on the contrary and… The dancers dance in long white pa… It isn’t right to yence your aunts
Roosevelt

Workingmen believed He busted trusts, And put his picture in their windo… ‘What he’d have done in France!’ They said.
 1
Fifty Grand

“Well,” Jack says, “I’m going to need a lot of luck with that boy.” “He couldn’t hit you with a handful of bird-shot.” “Bird-shot’d be all right,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t mind bird-shot ...
In our time: Chapter 5

It was a frightfully hot day. We’d jammed an absolutely perfect barricade across the bridge. It was simply priceless. A big old wrought iron grating from the front of a house. Too heavy...
My Old Man

I guess looking at it now my old man was cut out for a fat guy, one of those regular little roly fat guys you see around, but he sure never got that way, except a little toward the last...
Riparto D'Assalto

Drummed their boots on the camion… Hob—nailed boots on the camion flo… Sergeants stiff, Corporals sore. Lieutenant thought of a Mestre wh…
Ready to Start. Self-Portrait, by William Orpen
In our time: Chapter 1

Everybody was drunk. The whole battery was drunk going along the road in the dark. We were going to the Champagne. The lieutenant kept riding his horse out into the fields and saying to...
Poetry

So now, Losing the three last night, Taking them back today, Dripping and dark the woods . . .
Hills Like White Elephants

The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the si...
The Undefeated

Manuel Garcia climbed the stairs to Don Miguel Retana’s office. He set down his suitcase and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Manuel, standing in the hallway, felt there was so...
In our time: Chapter 2

The first matador got the horn through his sword hand and the crowd hooted him out. The second matador slipped and the bull caught him through the belly and he hung on to the horn with ...
The Herd Boy, by Frederic Remington
Oklahoma

All of the Indians are dead (a good Indian is a dead Indian) Or riding in motor cars— (the oil lands, you know, they’re… Smoke smarts my eyes,
 1
The Age Demanded

The age demanded that we sing And cut away our tongue. The age demanded that we flow And hammered in the bung. The age demanded that we dance
In our time: Chapter 15

I heard the drums coming down the street and then the fifes and the pipes and then they came around the corner, all dancing. The street full of them. Maera saw him and then I saw him. W...



Top