Hans Ostrom

Silver Star - 3,834 Points (1954 / California)

Morphine - Poem by Hans Ostrom

My eyes turned feral, made
visitors feel hunted. When I
talked, interlocutors thought
of machine-gun turrets, wolf-children,
and town drunks. I sold grand schemes
to myself, Mad Morphine Dauphin.

I became characters in
stories my mind told my mind. I
softly ceased to exist. The stench
of the hospital, my tube-invaded body,
Cubist quarrels with nurses—none
of this had to do with old
what’s-my-name. Morphine
slew ego. I was a parsonage
without a parson, a jukebox mausoleum.
Later I reintroduced myself to
myself. Long time, no see. There
are still hard feelings between us.


Comments about Morphine by Hans Ostrom

  • (1/9/2008 1:49:00 PM)


    It is not only morphine that can do this. Your poem has brought back painful images of trying to deal with my Mom on diet pills, Darvon, uppers, downers; whatever she could get her hands on. She was always walking on a tight-rope. If her supply ran short, or if the wide swings threw off her equilibrium, we would see what you so vividly describe as 'machine-gun turrents, wolf children\amd town drunks.'... someone selling grand schemes to themselves. The end of your poem goes through recovery. Most who have gotten far away from 'old\what's-my-name.' don't get past schemes and denial. This is a poem that is so much more than a read - -it lends itself to being 'performed' in a live slam or at a reading.
    You should take several of your poems on the road, if you already haven't.
    Tom
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  • (11/18/2007 1:38:00 AM)


    Great poem Hans. Fantastic imagery and the line 'I became characters in
    stories my mind told my mind' is one of the best I have read. Really good stuff.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 18, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 25, 2011


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