Her dad died
I never knew him
Only through her
I wonder how much
Of him I know
Through knowing her
Some of him?
Aspects
Mannerisms
Aphorisms
Animisms
Moralisms
Stoicisms
Ex­tremisms
Hedonism
Lyricism
Optimism
Activism

I wonder

Sean Hunt

There is no truth,
There is no lie
Just a mind making up
Everything that goes by

You can shimmer,
You can shine
You can climb high
On cloud number nine

Mirrors and smoke,
Horrors and hope
Mind making up
Everything that goes by

If you don’t like the movie
Have a glass of wine
It’s mind making up
Everything that goes by

Picasso’s paintings
May make you cry
Mind making up
Everything that goes by

When we look in a mirror
There’s nobody there
Still we stop
We stop and we stare
It’s mind making up
Everything that goes by

Sean Hunt   Windermere  March 2016

Oh no
This can't be happening to me
Oh no
It's not the way it should be
Oh no
It doesn't fit with my plan
Oh no
It's not the way it began
Oh no

We were wondering which theme to choose
For next week’s poetry
Whether to pick seasonal spring
The meteorological quirks of Cumbria
Or possibly the wintry ‘weather’
Ever present in Great Britain

I wondered whether 
‘Weather’ and ‘whether’
Held more personal appeal
Being a working man Wordsmith
With apron and hammer
And a slight Irish stammer

Soon I was wondering whether
Others had been seduced
By this knife-edge theme
Of ‘weather’ and ‘whether’

I knew I was not the first
To wonder about whether and weather
So I began wondering about others 
Who had wondered about whether and weather
Then I found myself wondering whether
Others had wondered 
Whether others had wondered
About whether and weather

Then I stopped

Sean Hunt  
Windermere March 2016

Mary moved ever so slowly
At the end of her years
She was naughty and nice,
And a friend to everyone, even the mice

Her every step a journey
Through the gardens green
Announcing edicts to the mice
Our ‘constitutional’ queen

“I don’t hear so well” she’d shout
But then I did surmise
That Mary heard quite well
Through her wide open eyes

I will miss her glinty glare
Through steely eyes of blue
Her spark, and piercing stare
This queen, I’m glad I knew

Sean Hunt March 13 2016

Although I know
Why the sky is blue
I understand me
And I understand you
I stay confused
Self-abused and bruised
Why?
Now I know
I need to go
And learn
Something new
Or
Something anew

Sean Hunt March 6 2016

March is NOT marching on
Here in
Jolly cold England

I can kiss your cave
Like no one else can do
The stone rolls away
You want me
To come through
Invitation urgent
No negotiation
Unspoken yet insistent
Of this I am sure
Your 'yes' means 'yes'
You are not demure
You guide my every step
Without a single word
You show the way in

Sean Hunt
Windermere March 5th 2016

We will all be forgotten
Of this there is no doubt
Though we live as if
A world without us
Could not exist

We grossly exaggerate
Our importance
Arrogantly
Overestimating
Our relevance
To the orbit of all
The planets
And galaxies

How many years will
Your memory remain
In the minds of men
And women?
Put your self
In perspective
Reflect on
How forgettable
You are

Stars and tears
All disappear

Sean Hunt Windermere 2016

Now
How does it feel
To be forgotten?
It is not on my mind
Much of the time
But once in a while
When I slide
Out of someone's orbit
When they forget
To remember me
The galaxy grinds
To a sudden halt
As I grasp the unthinkable
Absence of me
In another mind
The axis shifts
Momentarily skewed
As I think about
Nothing but you,
For a moment
Or two

Sean Windermere  2106

'Forgettable'

What an interesting theme!

I often wonder
What would I want to remember most
If I had Alzheimers
This contemplation led me to
A realization
(I'll try to memorize)
There's only one thing to remember:

'The unfindability of all phenomena'
(a.k.a. 'emptiness')
(a.k.a. 'lack of inherent existence')
(a.k.a. 'lack of true existence')
(a.k.a. 'Ultimate Truth')

I hope I can remember this
And that it helps
If I ever find
My memories
Flying into the sky
Like balloons

I must tie
A special string
To my finger

To RE MIND me

Sean

Hello
Fellow Poets
I created
Today
In cyberspace
A new collection
A new place
Where we
Can upload
twenty-word
Poems

Even if I could fly
Above the weather
I would not want to be bound
To flesh and feather
Forever

Sean Hunt Windermere UK 2016

You may notice
I don't like to write poems
About the world we see
Because the world we see
Does not interest me
If it interests you
May I suggest you go for a walk
Outside in the air
And take your self far away from here
Where my words may seem somewhat queer
I fear you will find they are not about
An idyllic and nice earthly paradise

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

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 would not want me to write about this, would you?
You would prefer a photoshop Disney job

You would prefer if I write about birds with innocent human minds
Cute as pie, flying by, in the sky
Not terrified ravenous hunters
Constant killers of all creatures a little smaller
Hundreds a day, every day, child's play

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

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

Sean Hunt  Windermere

Diva Trees

Aloneness gives a tree
An opportunity
To stand out
From the scene

She enters nature's stage
Like a many-armed diva
Receiving flowers
Awards
And much applause

She is painted and pictured
By people
As  her rings grow
Ever so slowly

Basking in her own glow
Of specialness
With no pretenders in sight
To steal her light

Her water transfused
From veins
Down below
Only for her, they flow

She says:
“I am here
And I will not be ignored
So feast your eyes
“Then feast some more”

Sean Hunt  Windermere  Feb 21 2016

Ask yourself
Before you write about love
While you write about love
After you write about love

Higher education leaves you
Down where you started
Floundering around
In waters uncharted

Some Mums and Dads
In our early years
Spoil their rods
And spill our tears

Some mums see their child
As the 'apple of their eye'
And never even notice
Other children passing by

And when your love for
Someone is so deep
That you cannot eat
And cannot sleep?

Love is giving, not getting
Love is generosity
Wanting someone else
To be happy, to be free

We enslave others
This is nothing new
How we like to see love
Is simply not true

Sean Hunt   Windermere

If your life's burning well
Poetry is just the ash

(Leonard Cohen)

I thought I loved them
But I was wrong
All I knew about love
Came from a song?

Everything I thought I knew
About love was wrong

Who ever taught us
That love is for them
And love is not a fix
For the arm of men

Greedy and needy
Desperate junkies
Obsessively feeding
Hedonistic hunger

Could this be  a ruse
A cosmic trick
To keep the race
From disappearing?

An implanted psychosis
Ensuring that men
Will reproduce
Again and again?


Sean Hunt  
Windermere May 2015

Love

Knowledge from college
Cannot explain
What love is
And the process of pain

Pop music knows nothing
About Love
We must debunk
Psychotic ramblings
From junkies

Love is liberation
Love is giving not taking
Love is not enslavement
Love is liberation
From the chains of
The 'Me' generation

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

Mother Nature broke her water
But the baby never came
Our inundated world
Will never be the same

We watched slowly
With a growing sense of impotence
As an elemental army
Took our innocence

Some  left their homes and died
In another place
They never did return
To their own space

Politicians waded 'round
In their wellingtons
What nerve they had to even show
Their sorry skeletons

Pontificated platitudes
Filled the element of air
And those who had been flooded
Didn't really care

To hear the sly sermon
Those words were barely heard
Though so well-written
Practised and rehearsed

Mother Nature has retreated now
To her slumber state
One day soon she'll wake again
We do not know the date

Windermere 2016 February 14th

Valentine's Day

I live alone
And my house could be cleaner
And there's no one to comment
On my demeanor

But

I tremble to think
Of the crevice and *****
On the slippery hills of
Love full of hope

Sean     Feb 14 2016

Ok, now
Here it is
If you insist,
A Poem

Come on Kate
It's Getting late
Fill the ****** slate

Don't forget
To rehearse
Every night
You must die right

How misguided
And mistaken
Of me
To impute my 'I'
On bits of
Other people's
Bodies

The fate
Of these bits of bone
And flesh
Is that they will be
Enmeshed with
And buried in
The bigger body
Of Mother Earth

Of course
This me
The mistaken me
The one that we see
Will dissolve
And disappear
Forever

But what about
Actual 'Me'
The me we cannot see
Where will 'I' be
After 'I' die

Windermere Feb 6  2016

Where is sound
To be found

Is it in the air
Or in the ear
Seems so far
Seems so near

From where does it come
And where does it go
At the end of the day
Nobody knows

We can tango
And do the waltz too
When sound is around
We love to groove

Why we like to dance
Is a mystery to me
And why we move
To a melody

Where can sound be found

Windermere  2016 Feb 4

I decided to write a poem
Not knowing
What the theme would be
I had nothing to say
At that moment in time
But I knew the rhyme
Would come like
Child's play
Like water falling
To the ground
Like the invasion
Of bird sounds
In the morning
Like a woman's
Monthly mood
Like a summer storm's
Warning

So it came
As it should
As I knew it would
And then I was in a pickle
Because I needed to afix
An ending to the thing
A finish with a flourish
A tasty pastry, perhaps

But I gave up

Sean Hunt
Windermere Feb 3 2016

Appearances To Mind

Breathe deep
Stop
Still mind

Try to find
Appearance
To  mind

Where to find
Appearance to mind?

Neither in front
Nor behind

Check
You'll find
Not different
From mind

Breathe deep
Stop
Still mind

Try to find
Appearance
To  mind

They are the nature of mind
Not different
From mind

Windermere  Feb 1 2016

Where Is This Poem?

It may inspire some ire
Be burned in a fire
Or placed in a gilded frame
To be read again and again

But where is my poem
Before I write it down
I can look all around
It cannot be found

When written and read
By someone new
Do they read the poem
Read by me or you?

Is the title the poem
Or word number nine
If you check you will see
It's not in a line

The poem's not a verse
Nor is it a word
And it's not a salad
Of sounds that are heard

Try to point at this poem
It will dis appear
Into thin air
And not be found anywhere

A poem is a magic act
And that's a fact

Windermere January 29 2016

Our Kate
Has a curious combination
Of girlish glee
And the fierce determination
Of a skilled surgeon
Or a motherly midwife
To save a poem's life

She refuses to leave
Bits of baby behind
And demands
A fully formed foetus

Keep it up
Kate

Jan 30 2016  Windermere

Maybe the 'plot'
Is
To find a 'plot'
To lose?

My Irish nation
Ought to change
The Wine
To water

I am
Exhausted
By my
Hallucinations
And elaborations

When he changed
The water
Into wine
Did he imbibe?

Where
Does the echo
Come from
And
Where
Does it go?

What's it all about?
It's time
To figure
It out

May seem
Absurd
But where are
The words
You've heard?

I won't
Really
Be leaving
Anything
Behind
When I die?

Well
Do I have a plot
To lose
Or not?

Mind looks
In mirror
To see
What's there.
Madness squared!

There is no truth
And there is no lie
There's a mind making up
Every thing that goes by

When we look in a mirror
There is no one there
But still we stop
We stop and stare

We're better than Dali
Or Pablo Picasso
We are master painters
Artists also

They touch our minds
With pigments and paint
We make a world
From empty space

Some of our works
Shimmer and shine
With visions of summer
Flowers and wine

But our canvas can cry
And scream in pain
As our world wretches
Again and again


Windermere Jan 25 2016

I'm so glad there's an ocean
Between you and me
Distance and dreams
Are all that can be

If you were next door
What there would be
Is the danger and drama
Of proximity

I tremble to think
Of the crevice and *****
On the slippery hills of
Love full of hope

Windermere, Jan 25 2016

I must have loved him before I was six
I think
I don't really remember
I do recall the middle years
Of icy hatred and tears
When shame was his game
And the narcissistic whine
Was mine

By the time he died
When I was sixty-three
Everything was fine
Between Dad and me

We are at peace now  

Sean Hunt  

Windermere April 2015

SARASVATI


You fly upon the wings of a swan
Sarasvati where have you been
We're living in a din
Sarasvati where have you been?

Cacaphony surrounding me,
Explains the state I'm in
Sarasvati, goddess of Poetry
Eloquence, and ear-truffle Artistry
Flying on a swan
Carressing  strings
Entertaining,  
Explaining,
Singing
Sarasvati, where've you been

Where have you been?
We're living in a din....
A dissonant cacaphony
A world without harmony,
Silly little love songs,
Sounding Oh so wrong
Oh Sarasvati, where've you been?


We love your eloquence,
And poetic elegance
You speak beautiful truth,
You do!
Sarasvati, where have you been?

Maiden of Manjushri,
Mother of Minstrels

A sad state of affairs,
For my mind and for my ears
Now I wouldn't mind if I went deaf,
For the rest of my years

Don't you believe it my friend        
When the movie gets scary again
When the hero is gone
And you're  on your own
When everything's wrong
A long way from home                              
As bad as it seems,
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend  
None of us ever will end
We're traveling together
In time and space
Body to body
And face to face
It's not what it seems                    
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend
Nothing is permanent
You'll find a new form
And a new world
You may be a boy
You may be a girl
It's not what it seems
It's only a dream

Don't you believe it my friend
Be happy when you're near the end
With a mind
Of stillness and peace
Sadness and worry
All will cease
It's not what it seems
It's only a dream
It's not what it seems

Feeling feline
Your poems,
Princess
Are more popular
Than mine!

“When will men be extinct?” .. BBC News

I will not gnash my teeth nor weep
When we become
An endangered species
(Once most men have 'gone beyond')

We live in
Suffering and slavery
With
Confused psychotic minds
Inhabiting a fallible
Frustrating
*****-trapped
Network of organic
Body-Time-Bombs
Stuck inside skeletal cages
With illegible end-dates

Some men fear death
I fear long life
(Perpetual life as an ordinary being
In an ordinary body)

If I could live forever
I would not want to be bound
To flesh or feather forever

I should send Steven Spielberg this script?

Sean Hunt  
2015 Somewhere in Scotland

'Unfindable'
Is now 'Trending'
So our Jerome
Is not alone!

Are you a
Narcissistic
Psychotic?
Few know
Themselves
So Well!

Narcissus stole
My innocence,
Turned my face
From human race