nathan martin

Rookie (uno 16 80 / oregon)

nathan martin Poems

161. Something Incouraging 3/20/2010
162. My Sobriety 9/8/2009
163. Charter Oak Church 9/10/2009
164. Count Dracula 10/21/2009
165. Holy Relic 10/24/2009
166. Happy Place 3/5/2009
167. Lego Cities 5/1/2009
168. Amnesia 3/19/2009
169. The Wooden Ventriloquist Clock 3/13/2009
170. Biblical Audiology 3/14/2009
171. Rainy Portland 3/4/2009
172. Black Coffee Country 2/5/2009
173. Nantucket Nursery Rhymes 6/23/2010
174. A Slow Quiet Morning 2/20/2009
175. Times New Roman 3/4/2009
176. Sunday Canoeing With Thoreau 5/6/2009
177. Passenger Seat Observatory 5/12/2010
178. A Girl Named Sudoku 3/12/2010
179. A Mosquito's Religion 7/9/2009
180. Freeze Dryed 2/11/2012
181. The Egocentric Poet 2/21/2009

Comments about nathan martin

  • Ken Baker (5/23/2010 2:08:00 PM)

    nathan- didn't your mama teach you how to use a spell checker?

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • April Kiessling (7/18/2009 3:47:00 PM)

    You are a gifted writer, with insight and unusual phrase turns and thoughts. I appreciate your humor and clever takes on so many otherwise mundane subjects. Please continue to develop your talent and thank you for sharing your poetry with the world.

  • Aaron Martin (7/8/2009 2:41:00 PM)

    Rock on bro! These poems are really good stuff! Love from Japan!

  • Ivan Ho (7/1/2009 11:08:00 PM)

    Keep up the good work!

Best Poem of nathan martin

The Egocentric Poet

If your looking for the smart guy in the corner its me.
using the comparative method of etymology you will
find the definition of poet is me.
if i was a dinosaur i would be a thesaurus.
i also like to use big words in conversations like idiosyncratic
and unequivocally.

i am an intellectual giant im theocritus and atlas together
the weight of the philosophical world rest on me alone.
i seperate all of my isms categorically with schisms.

and when i go to starbucks they just say its on the house champ
because i once knocked out bruce lee and...

Read the full of The Egocentric Poet

Curbside Dali

Sitting under the lamplight at midnight,
I break the mortared silence with the strike of a match.

I have a pocket full of camels and a sky filled with
large elephant like raindrops which fall slowly through
an asylum of orange lamplight resting over me.

i watch them descend downward to walk about me
crooked and cumbersome,

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