Biography of Hunter Dasten
Hunter Dasten was born May 3rd 1987 in Atlanta Georgia. He currently lives and writes in Savannah, Georgia. His poetry has appeared in Moonshine Arts Magazine, The Istanbul Literary Review, Ovi Magazine, and The Blue Fog Journal.
Hunter Dasten Poems
A Ballerina's Dance
Her feet float above the stage as if carried by some unseen force. From my view among the generally admitted I can hardly make out the details of her face.
Beneath A Copper-Tint Sky
It was a beige sand beach beneath a copper-tint sky, where with each untroubled step we walked away our youth. The air carried the sound of crashing waves as the tide rolled in, yet my lips can still retrace the imprint of her kiss.
When The Storm Comes Around
Should you find yourself at the captain’s helm, as everyone around you is jumping ship. Do not lose your stride. Do not miss a step.
She Watches The Sunset
The blue sky stretches far across the tepid marshland. A delicate amethyst which surrounds the crouching sun signals every cloud to it's place along the horizon.
That Little Girl With Her Hands To The S...
Have you ever clung to a desire for so long that your eyes saw nothing else? The most beautiful part of existence is the ability to dream, to aspire toward a goal, no matter how lofty!
I move above the anxious crowds in a perilous tightrope act. With each word I write every confession & concession made,
My memory is a Polaroid picture left in the sun. The scene is discolored and warped, and I’m left with only an abstract memory as if I had heard the story second hand.
An Immutable Act
Seven Suns and all that has come since the day your spirit took flight. yet it's only a candle's flicker in my eyes.
Can you peer through those eyes? The radiance must be blinding. As I gaze into them I've come to understand
The burden of reality, and conscious procedures prevent me from fully recalling just how vivid your presence was though, I can venture with enough forethought, to express it: Your hair seemed to float in a dance of jubilation through the air,
The Perfect Word
I have attempted a spiritual bargain. I have called upon God and sold him my world so that I might invent you, the perfect word.
Tragedy surrounds us in this life. The seeds of Hatred, Cruelty, and Oppression, easily grow to rival the heights of Redwood forests. It's so easy to find yourself lost in this cold dark world.
My memory is a Polaroid picture left in the sun.
The scene is discolored and warped,
and I’m left with only an abstract memory
as if I had heard the story second hand.
But in the language of my heart
the events are crystalline.
I scaled the wall of a nervous sheer cliff,
and climbed toward the mountain top revelry.