Hans Ostrom

Silver Star - 3,879 Points (1954 / California)

Hans Ostrom Poems

321. St. Petersburg 11/18/2007
322. Career 11/16/2007
323. Sea Monster 10/19/2007
324. El Greco's 'Christ On The Cross' 5/11/2009
325. Memory Unit 2/16/2015
326. Fingernails 11/11/2007
327. Feeling Bad? Try Thinking About Sex 3/23/2015
328. Of The Socks 2/12/2015
329. White Ants 3/25/2015
330. Quiet Whiteness 10/13/2017
331. Read And See 12/7/2017
332. Waking To Baking 11/20/2017
333. Oyster Shells 8/14/2017
334. Sex 9/17/2008
335. Love Poem: The Cherubs, The Harbors 11/1/2007
336. Morphine 11/18/2007
337. Cashier, Hardware Store 11/4/2007
338. Murder-Mystery Poem 4/11/2008
339. For Cafeteria Workers 2/5/2009
340. Door Poem 9/21/2009
341. Democracy Today 8/20/2008
342. April Primary 11/18/2007
343. Homeless Citizens In A Library 11/4/2007
344. High School Football 10/19/2007
345. Consumocracy 11/5/2007
346. Theology And Banking 10/23/2007
347. Alleys 11/9/2007
348. Sestina: The Game Of Baseball 10/23/2007
349. A Photograph Of The Day-Shift: North Star Mine,20 June 1938 10/23/2007
350. A Hod-Carrier Reflects 10/19/2007
351. Fossil Of A Wing 10/19/2007
352. Hello, Gray Salamander 3/17/2018
353. And Now, Whether 10/12/2007
354. For Librarians 2/18/2008
355. Langston Hughes And Barack Obama 1/20/2009
356. How To Be A Cat 5/29/2008
357. How To Write A Poem: A Poem 5/11/2009
358. Langston Hughes 10/19/2007

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Best Poem of Hans Ostrom

Langston Hughes

In a wilderness of reasons
not to write, he wrote. Just wrote.
Each word was the belief
in the possibility of the next.
He kept it going.

Mostly his days and words talk
quietly, though he could rant and rage.
Mention is what his voices usually do
in a world of self-convinced noise.

Truth mentioned is a sweet brass
note you’ll never forget. Writing,
Langston showed writing to be
an unashamed act, one of the few
in a shameful, shaming world. Words

grin. Words reside. Words throw
a meal together for unexpected friends,
make a garden...

Read the full of Langston Hughes

Sea Monster

I drift beneath a grammar of sharply etched shapes
and clear contrasts. Eddies dance as if to mock
my dumb back as I pass under a cove’s calm surface.
Sometimes a seabird’s shriek thuds through thick
water. I feel forever dark weight of water.
It’s as present to me as my own body as I push
through it with ridiculous flippers. One day I will
just stop and dropp to ancient mud;
clouds of mud will mushroom out about me, swirl,

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