Every poet needs a Hemingway…

Every poet goes without a letter,
every artist a drip of paint,
and yet she wonders, silently,
“What was it that Hemingway ate?”

So Mike sits at his computer screen,
and muses silently?
“Did Emily Dickinson ever run out of paper?”
Man, I really would have hated her…

So Hemingway sits under a tree,
and feels an apple fall,
“Did Newton really think
that gravity, was all?”

Dedicated to senses of humor, which women seem to have…

About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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