Her body broke the bad news:
‘This month she would not be much use’
For another month on earth
She’d not be able to give birth

She didn’t know why
She would spit in my eye
She didn’t know why
She would suddenly cry
She didn’t know why
She wanted me to die
She didn’t know why
She didn’t know why

Now this was a little hard for me
Because I was able to see
I really could read her mind
There were so many signs

I felt it coming in the air
I knew that life would seem unfair
She would not see, she could not see
The reason for her misery

I had to keep it to myself
And walk around on eggshells
If not, well, well, well
My life would be a living hell

I knew that once a month
We’d play this game again
And once a month
Everything would be the same

When the storm had passed
Her love would be the same
I shouldered no more blame
Sunshine after rain

One day I finally learned
What I need to know
That rainbows come
And rainbows go

Sean Hunt  Aug 2016

I do not write poems
About the world we see
Because the world we see
Does not interest me

Landscapes inside my mind I find worthy of words
Internal curiosities appeal to me
I am bored by birds,  and clouds and flowers
Lakes, and trees and bees

Sure there is sadness enough in the mind of a bird
To fill an ocean with the tears
From trillions of heart-wrenching words
But you may prefer that I write about birds
With innocent human minds
Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky
Not terrified ravenous hunters
Constant killers of anything smaller
All through the day,
Like a child’s sinister play

Or should I write of cuddly cats
Who ambush innocent birds hopping by
Silly birds who should have stayed in the sky
‘Tis nothing to do with a need for food
‘Tis wanton bird abuse for cats' amusement

Our Earth family is Dysfunctional
The truth of Mother Nature
Is not what we want poets to write about

Sean Hunt  Windermere

I don’t mean to seem misogynistic but I know I need a woman to help me clean and organize my world. I’m not a newly liberated teen caught up in the whirl of sudden liberation from mum and dad; for many years now, this freedom I have had.

I’m afraid I must admit the house is now scary and I am afraid that if I die one day and someone comes to sort the mess of all these years they will not shed a tear.

They may say: “He seemed well-dressed, his elegance suggested something else, a life more organized and certainly less smelly”

Now it seems I have every thing I need, all the solvents, ‘Hoover’ technology and a steady flow of very hot water.  I live a life of leisure and I have loads of time which I devote to pleasure.

There’s no excuse for what one sees inside my house; the fault is me.

Now a lady’s lovely touch would also warm my heart which, I am well aware could beat a little harder; but the firmness of that gentle hand is what I really need, it seems, to guide my idle mind and better organize my dream


Sean Hunt   August 2016

I don’t mean to seem misogynistic
But I know I need a woman
To help me clean
And organize my world
I’m not a newly liberated teen
Caught up in the whirl
Of sudden liberation
From mum and dad
For many years now,
This freedom I have had

I’m afraid I must admit
My house is now scary
And I am afraid
That if I die one day
And someone comes
To sort the mess
Of all these years
They will not shed a tear

They may say:
“He seemed well-dressed,
His elegance suggested something else,
A life more organized
And certainly less smelly”

Now it seems I have
Every thing I need
All the solvents
Hoover technology
And a steady flow
Of very hot water
I live a life of leisure
And I have loads of time
Which I devote to pleasure

There’s no excuse
For what one sees
Inside my house
The fault is me

Now a lady’s lovely touch
Would also warm my heart
Which, I’m well aware
Could beat a little harder
But the firmness of
That gentle hand
Is what I really need, it seems,
To guide my idle mind
And organize my dream

Sean Hunt

There were things you wanted to do
But I couldn’t let you
I didn’t want to
I had to shoot  

Although I tried I couldn’t find
Something else to do
I didn’t want to
But I had to shoot

You pointed your gun at someone
Although
I didn’t want to
I had to shoot

The sword you held in your hand
Had sliced a man in two
I didn’t want to
But I had to shoot

No time to talk or say goodbye
Time to ask you why
I didn’t want to
But I had to shoot

And although I knew
You were unwell
Fighting phantom infidels
I had to shoot

I shouted out I yelled
But you were under
Someone’s spell
And I had to shoot

Catch 22 caught me
And it caught you
Although I didn’t want to
I had to shoot

Nothing else for me to do
Though I didn’t want to
I had to shoot

You shouted blame and called his name in vain
Though I didn’t want to
I had to shoot

You chose the game you shamed his name
Though I didn’t want to
I had to shoot

If you come back from the dead
With hatred in your head
I’ll have to shoot
Again, and again and again, and again
And again and again
I’ll have to shoot

Snakes and ladders is the name
Of my game of blame and shame
Where every move that I make
Leads to even more heartache

One day I made a big mistake
I slipped and slid down a snake
I tried to climb back up a ladder
But slipped and became even sadder

I looked around for another ladder
To take me back to where I was
But they all took me somewhere new
And slippery snakes were all I saw

Snakes and ladders is the name
Of my game of blame and shame
Where every move that I make
Leads to even more heartache

Sean Hunt  July 2016

To dodge a bullet of blame
To pretend I've won a game
To protect an illusory self
From the eyes of everyone else

To turn away from a truth
To seem to be smooth
To defend my point of view
So no one can see through

To twist somebody's arm
To turn off an alarm
To take a pound or two
Maybe away from you

To protect my reputation
To cause a sensation
To play my ****** bail
To stay out of a jail

To paint a pretty picture
To get a little richer
To win a competition
To be a magician

Sean