Hunter Dasten

Rookie (May 3rd 1987)

Comments about Hunter Dasten

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  • Rookie Jonothan Queen (1/28/2010 8:44:00 PM)

    very vivid imagery, i can picture it so clearly in my head, read mine and leave feedback, thanks, if any atlest destroyed beauty, thats my best one, thanks

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  • Rookie Brandie Ybarra (7/8/2009 4:03:00 AM)

    when I read the copper tint sky one
    I loved it I could practically smell the salt water and feel the breeze

  • Rookie LaClaire Mitchell Nzerem (4/4/2009 3:18:00 PM)

    dasten did you remove your poems? We wanted to read more of your work...or, where can I buy your 10 ### book, mine made 'We All came From Borderlands' by LaClaire Mitchell my lastest one Spider...comment if you like!
    Do a haiku and more visuals you work is great! ! ! ###1010101001010 10s! ! !
    Regards, Claire Nzerem

  • Rookie ~ Jon London ~ (2/28/2009 6:07:00 PM)

    If you're looking for dreamy visual reads, Hunter's work projects everything you're searching for. A fine poet, who's voice you'l enjoy visiting

  • Rookie Dr. Rupender Jeet Singh (2/2/2009 7:16:00 AM)

    Allright your Ballerina is a martyr.

    I love this one. Keep writing & in touch.

    Thanks and regards.

  • Rookie Nithya Raghavan (12/19/2008 5:30:00 AM)

    the poem 'an immutable act' made an interesting is true that some people who are very close to us slip away quite quickly.congratulations! keep writing!

  • Rookie brianda Hernandez (12/12/2008 1:18:00 AM)

    you have potential.....

  • Rookie Nithya Raghavan (11/24/2008 12:48:00 AM)

    the poem 'the dreams' was very nice.wish it were a bit longer.

  • Rookie Allysyn Bryant (11/21/2008 6:25:00 PM)

    Hunter...your poems are great. Could almost take me into a different world while reading them, like the one about the little girl. that one got me. You're a great poem. Keep it up!

  • Rookie Peter Tamburrino (11/19/2008 10:39:00 PM)

    Very well written. Definitely have a natural talent. Will look forward to reading your other works.

The Dance

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.

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