Three Poems by Ernest Hemingway

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Ernest Hemingway poems

Ernest Hemingway was born on 21 July, 1899. He moved to Paris in 1921 with his then wife Hadley as the foreign correspondent for the Toronto Daily Star. He spent eight years in the magical city (1921 – 1928) and it remained in his heart forever. The collection ‘Three Stories and Ten Poems’ was published in Paris in 1923. Our editors have chosen three poems from this collection to commemorate the great author and Nobel Laureate’s birth anniversary. 

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 all rich)
Smoke smarts my eyes,
Cottonwood twigs and buffalo dung
Smoke grey in the teepee—
(or is it myopic trachoma)
The prairies are long,
The moon rises,
Ponies
Drag at their pickets.
The grass has gone brown in the summer—
(or is it the hay crop failing)
Pull an arrow out:
If you break it
The wound closes.
Salt is good too
And wood ashes.
Pounding it throbs in the night—
(or is it the gonorrhea)

Oily Weather

The sea desires deep hulls—
It swells and rolls.
The screw churns a throb—
Driving, throbbing, progressing.
The sea rolls with love
Surging, caressing,
Undulating its great loving belly.
The sea is big and old—
Throbbing ships scorn it.

Captives

Some came in chains
Unrepentent but tired.
Too tired but to stumble.
Thinking and hating were finished
Thinking and fighting were finished
Retreating and hoping were finished.
Cures thus a long campaign,
Making death easy.
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