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Best Poems Written by Nathan Martin

Below are the all-time best Nathan Martin poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Bourbon Steelhead

tempered steelheads migrating through the
 shallows, their metallic scales lubricated 
with penzoil two stroke motor oil.

 moving over sand and rocks
 some gray, some brown, 
 some smooth,  some jagged and torn.

  with alloys glistening in the summer heat
they brush up against the rivers stones to break
 off the fishermens disappointment.

 all those scarred gums whose fishhooked
 lines caused thier lead bellies to rust.

 in the muddy waters they stir, 
drink to much whiskey and sink to the 
river bars sandy bottom.

 their rigid frames drifting through the sediment, 
with heads lowered swaying 
 slowly like submariner zeppelins, trying to
navigate against the turbulent waters.

  now these mechanical nomadic sailors keep for
 themselves a tin compass in the sky filled with
 memories of home. 

 but still they are mellow preachers
 rolling and tumbling in their hardened 
 elements trying to find their way.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Saskatchewan Artist

north by northen

they live in villages of 8 to 10 people, 
 dont pay rent and make art out of multi 
colored buttons and old bent tire rims.

 they have warm smiles and icicle 
 beards that hang down in a
 furrowed eccentric mess. 

they are eskimos that write with 
red ball point pens and speak french 
fluently. except when they slip on the
 ice they may curse and cry. 

thier tears freeze into crystal cathedrals 
with paintings of redemption 
hanging along its walls.

they redeem us all.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Hero

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Pacman

fat muncher sittin on the couch,
cheetos bag in hand.

 an abstract maze of orange
 cheesy dots all around him.

  still he runs from the ghost
 in the punchcard maze.

 the nine to five arcadian
 horror is what he fears most.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Freeze Dryed

it is the atomic weight that matters most.

   violent barbiturate toungues empty coffee cups 
   and deliver the insight.

  before there was religion there
 was foldgers dry roast.

  before the lunar landing there
  was instant oatmeal.

   still my toungue is heavy with saliva.
   
   i shall not lie.



   it is the description that matters least.

  the patient deconstruction of all 
  unsound perspectives.

   bright and ultra bright scientific 
   notations fell from heaven like lightening.

  the witnesses annotated cauterized edges
  and spoke in the most literal sense.

  before there was a mother there 
  was a mosaic womb.

  before there was a helix faith 
  there was a clay parable.

  still the pencil aches in the 
  palm of my hand.

  i shall not murder.



   it is the pattern that matters most.

   catching low tide shells in between shallow moons.

   fringed hands count down the gene pool legend,
   seperated only by accented lips.

   before there was a cleric in a robe
   there was a tilt in the axis.

   before there was a fat bellied fertility goddess
   there was a splinter in a finger.

   still my stomach is full of acrid 
  compound naratives.

   i shall not want.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Alarm Clock

Broken clocks with wooden blocks
And the power is out again.

Cold burning hands lifted up with a little
sacrificial parenthetical nonsense

"Yuletide noreaster winding down"
Of course it will be cold - it always is. 

And there will be red numerals flashing 
in the morning. 

Isaac is having his nightmares again,
Feeling like a tied down goatskin.

maybe it is just that Old Testament slang. 


Some say single syllable saliva.
Some say killing time on Mount Moriah.

Now a fifth of gin in the pillowtop linen,
May be worse a sin than to kill kin.

And the blankets are tangled thickets,
The alarm clock is tuned to AM radio.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Formica

lunatic tile underneath a formica god.

he cracks at the edges.

synthetic delirium..

coptic nerve....


 in his head plastic can be holy
.in his head 
he bends but never breaks

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Global Warming

such a strange sight the outsourcing of 
 careless myths strapped and carried 
 on the backs of skinny men.

 gandi in a white sash with poor 
handwriting tells of the ganges 
languid mouth.


while not so far north of the ghetto by a
 freeway overpass some were seen 
gathering .

 there under the lords bent gray elbow
 carbon filled prophets with severe 
phobia's look up to the sky and 
wonder who to punish.


still the embryo's fall to the
 earth in seed form first. 

they have seen this sort of
 thing before but their not talking.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

James Hetfield Buying Soymilk

you may think that soy is not made of metal
    but i saw james hetfield filling his kettle.
   
   full of that sh$% in the vegan isle.
   so i just starred at him for awhile.

Details | Nathan Martin Poem

Nantucket Nursery Rhymes

gardening back the perennial shade, 
  no time or reason to follow these
  months into their graves.

   wandering whale songs through a nantucket
  wheather vain storm in the plow and bury
  the fishnet parable. 

 a sower of seeds carries the mythic legend, 
 the horse drawn mantle and the weary knuckle.

 but let the sea drown in its own sorrows,
 for there is a harbor of stories in the dry
 leaf bed of an old teacup on the porch.

  the ambient light of the colodial silver
  half moons, half shiverers and half
  tumbles down.

 an orchard of angelic promises in the
 sky nurtures and gathers every wool 
capped stone.

 near polar latitudes along the borders 
of a window pane freeze and keep out 
every unknown stranger. 

 biblical knocking... pulling.. tears open 
and lets enter the seagulls half hearted charms.