Biography of Nathan Coppedge
[POEMS AND QUOTES BY NATHAN COPPEDGE]
I was raised in a family which attended a non-denominational Unitarian Universalist church, one of two sons of divorced parents, in New Haven, CT. My father is an academic, and my mother has been a housewife and a nurse after earning a history degree.
I'm a philosopher, artist, inventor, and poet in some capacity. I have a website on perpetual motion machines- -perhaps my biggest claim to fame. I also write books on philosophy, in particular objective and coherent knowledge systems. Poetry has been one of my hobbies since I took classes on poetry in high school.
I'm influenced by Roethke's theory of stressed syllables, Dickinson's energetic abstraction, Coleridge's 'sense' for sentences, and Blake's imagery. I have published a variety of books, including the poetry books listed below. I also have been quoted in Book Forum and the Hartford Courant in relation to philosophy, and I am a member of the International Honor Society for Philosophy.
I have high-quality poems, so please READ instead of just viewing my profile. I also have a wide variety of quotes I have written over the years, so one option is just to view the quotes page.
Nathan Coppedge's Works:
The Old Incantations (2014)
Poems by God (2014)
Creeping Cadence and Cadence Continues (2013)
Inverse Threads (2004,2005)
Nathan Coppedge Poems
I stopped calling things eachother long before I knew I’d found a way between the walls where I could always go—
God In The Box
The only problem is, we don't know. Everything else can be determined. Good things in life = good god. Bad things = bad god.
A song for every avenue? A desert where the rain-cloud comes A parched land where no needle hides A harsh land where seeds are buried
Under the preponderant clouds wishing mist on the outskirts of cities The crowd roves and raves Speaking with the hearts of dead men
There's Only A Handful of Forms (Song/ P...
There’s only a handful of forms In the moonlight kept all in tether The people laugh and they shake their heads They ask me about the weather
crooked finger, stalling star light of bottoms, branching bear the fullest approbation of the far where yet it hurries on the near
I’ve known lust since I was born for pangs that carry on the air— droplet notes and woman-song— deeply sugars for the just-begun.
Do Not Follow In The Footsteps
Do not follow in the footsteps of the master, master His garden is no humble pasture-
Grudge of the Universe
A box of tissues is soaked through A pink hand written, unbesmirched by any deeply blue
He Assesses This, A Work of War
Planches of starlight, creases of fear Worry the lost, teach the year Press the cost, preach the air Formula lost, year to year
Then she made a quantum leap- - and she called it divine. All- enfolded like a flower.
My Greatness Poem
The commissioned road widens / As though paved by gold
To sink, betimes, below an archer frame- - And here bely the hope to crave again- - A deeper will, a calmer, quicker flame- -
I. Shadows are wide but my eyes are closed
I grew beyond the reaches of the floors
Beyond the bounds themselves bound
by their binded doors
I knew beyond the reaches of this house
lay one painted with a mingling paint
fastened against this new-found