Walt Ostrander

Rookie (1/23/89 / Milwaukee, WI)

Walt Ostrander Poems

1. The Frantic And Quite Daring Escape Of Young Beauty 4/13/2006
2. Spider 6/18/2006
3. April 9/13/2006
4. To Live 11/26/2006
5. Delilah 3/1/2007
6. Existence 7/1/2007
7. Marching Carbonized Palindromes And The Third World War 7/1/2007
8. A Story 7/1/2007
9. Timetimetime 7/1/2007
10. 12/21/2012 10/29/2007
11. A Salute To All Things Rapid 11/25/2007
12. I Kiss This Little 1/28/2008
13. Maybe Because It's Your Hair 1/28/2008
14. I Like To Think Of Smoke 1/28/2008
15. Vacuum War 1/28/2008
16. Soup 10/27/2008
17. In Response To The Imagist: 12/17/2005
18. Nothing Sacred Is Anything Gone 3/13/2006
19. Outrages! Outrages! 8/3/2010
20. In All Sight Touch Taste Smell I Have Known You 12/13/2005
21. Concerning Our Weary Limbs 1/15/2006

Comments about Walt Ostrander

  • Joseph Daly (12/30/2005 6:08:00 AM)

    Walt has not been on PoemHunter long. He has shown the good sense to post his pieces after working on them (there is no spontenaity for him) and ensuring that they meet his standard rather than taking a 'this-will-do' attitude. I that, he is a craftsman and a proud one at that.

    The pieces that Walt have posted scream out, not only to be read, but examined. I do not hesitate in placing Walt alongside Lamont Palmer and John Kay as an illustrious and discipline artist.

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Best Poem of Walt Ostrander

Concerning Our Weary Limbs

Concerning Our Weary Limbs

You are invulnerable as I stare intently upwards;
Wishing (more than what is warmth or shade) to conquer you.

Determined to discover your cleverly hidden beginning;
And whispers “To find one should be amazing enough.”

You and I have begun our marvelous intricate scales and descents.
(There is no longer a Below, you are made of thousands of patterns of

Which I must make my own; and I will not ascend you – wonderfully Anew, I know with the wrong or the simple.)

You are, I imagine, growing tired. You will ...

Read the full of Concerning Our Weary Limbs


O delicate instrument of patience
That sews herself the seeds of life
Two by two behind her past.
Thou answers only with silence as
Silence herself carries you on a wind
And coalesces upon your life with
The rough hands of winter
Slowly traveling
down your neck.

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