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Sean Hunt Mar 2016
Hello
Fellow Poets
I created
Today
In cyberspace
A new collection
A new place
Where we
Can upload
twenty-word
Poems
Twenty Word Poems
If there is already such a category/collection can someone please let me know;  I did not see one.
Sean Hunt May 2016
Inside
One day
I will
Finally find
My
Actual 'I'
Sean Hunt May 2017
From the center

    of my sphere

        yes

           I

    am in here

and I can be found

surrounded by

      galaxies

    all around



Sean Hunt  May 2017
Sean Hunt Dec 2016
Actually

What you see
Isn’t me
And what I see
Isn’t me

Actually

My actual ‘I’
Will not be seen
By ordinary eyes

Actually

This is why
I meditate
To eliminate
The pretentious
Preposterous
Imposter

       Sean Hunt    Dec 2016 Windermere, UK
Sean Hunt Jun 2018
Actual Refuge is
a Realization
that helps you see
and shows you how to be

Actual Refuge is not
walking through a 'Pearly Gate'
calling on a man in heaven
or dialing 911
Sean Hunt Sep 2017
Korean Kim
wrote a poem today
and I really like
what he had to say

He said the remarks
of Tyrannical Trump
have the trademark
of ‘a dog’s bark’
Sean Hunt Mar 2016
What Now?

After the resurrection
After flying away
At the end of your day
What now?

What will you know?
Where will you be?
Who will you see?
Will you see me?

When you die
It's the end of you
And the end of me
Because the me that you see
Will no longer be

And when I die
It's the end of me
And the end of you
Because the you that I see
Will no longer be

But our minds will still be
Our minds will still see
Differently

Sean Hunt    Easter 2016
Sean Hunt Aug 2016
Remember this morning
Abiding in stillness
Mind unwound
Staked right down
Nowhere to go
Nothing to do
An absence of ‘Me’
An absence of ‘You’
Inspired by the fire
Of wisdom and love

During your delicate
Dangerous days
When walls are falling
And sirens are singing
And maras are flinging
Every thing
Remember this morning
Sean Hunt Jun 2019
Don’t get carried away
scientists say
If you savor your cinnamon-flavored tea
drink it moderately
you’ll live long enough
to reflect on your life
you may outlive
your husband or wife

With moderation
consequence causation
will be controlled
so we slowly grow old
guarding our greenness
as long as we can
But death will destroy
each woman and man

Come what may
our plane will crash one day
We will fall from a height
day becomes night
We jog and we cycle
off to our coffin
so super-fit
we jump into it
Sean Hunt Jan 2016
I know some friends consider me
To be a dour dharma dude
That's ok because
As they say
Each to their own food
Or wine
Or entertainment  time
And their own rules
For love and hate
Of every thing
Like my silly little rhyme

One look in a clean mirror
Can give me such a fright
If all I saw were me
Out there
What a horrid sight!
That would be,
If all I could see is me!

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 7 2016
Sean Hunt Sep 2017
I can’t remember when
I last wrote a poem with a pen
Writing once romanticised
now has been exorcised

From touching tablets or touching keys
magically
words begin
appearing on a screen

Organised as I wish
edits in an instant
easily erased
replaced or placed elsewhere on the page

A literary light show
based on binary play
then sent off to cyberspace
until another day
Sean Hunt Jan 2019
Daphne and Colin
Alan and Ron
Norman and Norma
Others whose names
we forget
All Dead
Sean Hunt May 2016
Then when we know
From whence come
Moon and Sun
All will be undone

All undone
So much fun
Picking skins off the onion
One by one

Then to fall into
The space inside
Where with two wings
We soar and fly

Sean Hunt  May 2nd 2016
Sean Hunt May 2016
Our aloneness we deny
And defy
Why?

We’re as alone
As a cloud
In a crowded
Sky

We’re alone when we’re high
And alone when we cry

We're alone when we're  born,
And alone when we die,

And alone in between
Our hello and goodbye

Sean
Sean Hunt Jun 2020
In Ambleside we see
the remains of a Roman fort
Though much has changed
from those times
We wonder what they saw
what kind of lives they lived
through the ticking down of breaths
from birth through ageing sickness and death

They were far from home
far from Rome
on the shore of Windermere
and we wonder
what in thunder
they were doing here
so far from home
on the shore of Windermere

There was no silver
there was no gold
but they came
and grew a little older
and then came more
boat after boat
but why
we do not know

They built a fort
from stone and wood
fit in as many
men as they could
clerks and cooks
We wonder
what they came here for
We wonder what they took
Sean Hunt Mar 2019
In a dream one day
dressed in a soldier's kit
I was in a deep ditch
laying down in it
in a flow of water
that I could not feel
as a soldier sprayed bullets
that felt really real

It may have been a memory
for I was born after the war
then I may have been a soldier
on the other shore
Sean Hunt May 2016
I used to call myself an A-Romantic Poet, not wanting to include myself
In the group that I thought knelt at the altar of nature on two knees, writing only about the prettiness they see.

Am I a ‘Romantic’ poet, I ask myself out loud. The jury is out.

At first I thought they only wrote about flowers and hills and things outside the mind. Someone said I was wrong, that they can write about inner inspiration and movements of mind, as long as their internal spring of feeling is strong, intense and vibrant like tremors, geysers, erupting volcanoes, hailstorms, floods, and hurricane furies; or as still as a daffodil bending in the breeze.

I think perhaps I write like an already very strong and steady wind that sometimes surprises with an even stronger gust that defies expectations, and explanations, and demands attention, like an ignored diva.
  

Sean Hunt  May 13  2016
First attempt at a 'Prose Poem'.  On July 7th I will be attending a monthly meeting of local poets at Wordsworth Trust in The Lakes District in Grasmere and the topic for that meeting will be Prose Poetry.  I know nothing about Prose poetry but the first sample I saw from the poet who will be leading the discussion did interest me so I thought I would try one.
Sean Hunt May 2019
Where was the call
that never came yesterday
Potentials were in place,
I was here you were there

Sometimes life insists
on something other than
the rituals and plans
of a woman and a man

Flying in cyber air
little bits of digital dust
bumping momentarily
into us

Catching up on our day
with not-so-necessary words
needing to be said
and needing to be heard 

One by one born into life
kernels popping in a heated pan
popped into the mouth 
of an  occasionally reverent fan 

An absence of  words  was  heard
as we drifted into an absence of light
I slept well 
How was your night
Sean Hunt May 2016
You are hidden from view
You don’t see me
I don’t see you
This makes me nervous,
You see
I know what you have done
Through history

The wars you’ve caused
The blood you’ve shed
Down so many streets
Rolling heads
Armies and power
Rows of stones
Crosses and flowers

Court jesters
And child molesters
Clowning around
Bishops and criers
Lingering liars
Towers and trials
All of the arrogant
Baying and praying
For a male child

****** horsemen
Hunting with hounds
We no longer want you
Around

Sean Hunt  May 5  2016
An anti aristocrat rant
Sean Hunt Mar 2017
A new day
Has dawned
But
What is a ‘new day’
Anyway?

A slice of
Never-ending time
An irreverent
Rebellious rhyme

Coordinates
Are needed
To place one day
In the history
Of ‘me’

In a cave underground
Without a chime
Around
To tell us time
Pray
Tell me
Where is the day


Sean Hunt   March 2017
Sean Hunt Jan 2016
Another day,
Today,
Now
What do I have
To say?
Sean Hunt Jun 2016
Another Me

Today
Is over
Once again
Tomorrow 
A new one 
Will begin
How many more
I wonder now
Before
The sun is new
And the day
Is different
Maybe 
More moons 
Maybe  less
How many legs
Will I have
A hundred
Ten
Or one
Or none
Which label
Language
Will I learn
How many days more
I wonder
Before
There's
Another me
For me
To be

Sean Hunt June 3rd 2016
Sean Hunt Jan 2019
It seems to me
our times have become present perfect for many
For others our times have become tortured
and utterly imperfect

Cambridge Analytica knows
every thing about almost everyone
who is connected addicted infected
by a need to be seen and heard
by imagined minds

Cambridge Analytica
will tell and sell to anyone
who wants to be respected selected
elected

Cambridge Analytica
turned the tide in The British Isles
Their algorithms slithered
through the cyber-slush of Facebook
and found three million voters
who had never ever exercised
their democratic right
Then for gain they sold their names
to the ‘Leave’ campaign

And now those who were already rich but wanted more of it
have their Brexit
Sean Hunt Dec 2015
Can you imagine
A poem
Without a theme?
The theme of
That poem
Would be
The absence
Of a theme.

This poem
Tried
Unsuccessfully
To be
A poem
Without
A theme

Sean Hunt
Windermere 2015 April
Sean Hunt Feb 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
Rewrite
Sean Hunt Dec 2015
We all want happiness
But happiness will only come
If we give happiness
To someone else,
Not ourself

We all want to be free from fear
This is easy, not so hard
Remove some fear
From another heart

Me and mine
Is the choral whine
Drowning out
The stillness and peace
That we all need
So desperately

Sean Hunt  
2015 April Windermere
Sean Hunt Jan 2018
When someone’s pain just stays
it just won’t go away
and everyone is waiting
with baited breath
for the coming of the dawn of
the day of death

Technicians with machines
fill the blood with morphine
So they can **** the pain
for the people by the bed
and the one who’s nearly dead

In silence now remembering
all of the bad and the glad
many years and months
many days and minutes
all falling through
one funnel

I never saw a sadder scene
where laughter was against the law
small ranges of expressions
funneled through a narrow place
of few permitted faces


Sean Hunt Jan 16 2017
Sean Hunt Jul 2019
Green is not my colour
Vacuum is not my sound
This morning my shirt is green
And they're vacuuming all around

I wonder can they change
the day the carpet's vacuumed
Maybe on a Friday
they can do another room
Sean Hunt Jul 2019
A tale I will tell
about people and places
of olden times

That which has been covered
almost forever
by stardust
will now be seen
in the light
of the sun
by everyone

In the desert of extremes
where day and night
are mean
at times
her heart
beat
as long as it could
until it surrendered
to a never-ending army
of mercenaries
who were paid
in silver
and gold

They surrounded
her oval oasis
until
there was quiet
Sean Hunt Apr 2019
When the sun and moon in our sky
finally fade
taking the light
at the end of the day
at the end of the night
when all the sounds and sights
have gone with the day
and the world has wafted away
now is the time for warm embrace
gentle quiet touch
a heart to heart hush
No spoken words are heard
Sean Hunt Sep 2017
Took a trip yesterday, destination over there
Settled down some where, between here  and there
The place was unfamiliar, and my mind couldn't grasp
The difference between, this this and that that
Nothing is solid every thing is slow
There’s nothing to do and there’s nowhere to go
When apprehension set in, at the very start
I took a look at him, and set anchor in his heart
I watched the show unfold, somewhere behind my eyes
I met someone named Lucy, who  lives in the sky”
I knew I was responsible, for everything I saw
from the liquid walls, to the winding halls
Though I wasn't tired, I laid myself down
thinking about everyone, who wasn't around
I bounced like a ball, through the memories
skipping days and weeks, and months and years
I landed now and then, as if magnetised
by moments in the past, where I’d sigh or cry
Sean Hunt May 2020
Unfortunately

whether we remain
in the quiet confines
of our own castle home
or whether we go out
with others
to sit down
for tea or coffee
aural torture is found
Boom boxes on four wheels
splashing sound all around
the cities
and the towns

Diesels growl
sirens howl
Swishing cars
hissing tires
Blasphemous bells
from hell

White noise is in the air
bouncing everywhere
from merry-go-rounds at county fairs
to elevators and dentist's chairs

Like lightning
silence sometimes comes around
making
a brief
but welcome break
in a surreal storm
of surround sound
Sean Hunt Jun 2018
Unfortunately

Aural torture is often found
when one sits down to take a tea or coffee

White noise is in the air
bouncing around everywhere

from merry go rounds at county fairs
to elevators and dentist's chairs

Silence is sweet when it finally comes
and makes a break in the surround sound
Sean Hunt Nov 2015
Year after year we see
The same scene,
Tears from trees

Brown leaves on the ground
From the trees
All around

Some are sad some are pleased
With the fall of
Brown tears from trees

One day of wind, all come down,
And then the leaves are
All around

What we see is poetry
In the country and the town
Brown teary trees

We are touched somehow
Memories are always found
When brown tears from trees
Are all around


Sean Hunt
Windermere November 4th 2015
Sean Hunt Mar 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
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
Sean Hunt Mar 2016
'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
This is not a poem, ( think ) I just wanted to place it, as a first draft
of whatever it will end up becoming
Sean Hunt Oct 2016
Wishing Peace and Love
And freedom from fear
Hope and Happiness
In the New Year

To our mothers and brothers
Over the seas
May their lives be full
And free from disease

May nobody live
Under a thumb
May the planes return to
The place they came from

May all of those Drones,
Fly back to their homes
May the guns rust
And be covered in dust

May all of the sermons
And soldiering stop
May we tend to our families
And to our crops

The horizon will bring
A Rising dawn
And the curtain, on war
Will be drawn

Wishing Peace and love
And freedom from fear
Hope and Happiness
In the New Year
Sean Hunt Mar 2017
There is a whole lot of babble in this Babylon
This is not original, it is a clever comment from a friend on a poem I wrote, stretched into 10 words
Sean Hunt Sep 2017
Barking dogs and believers in God
insist that you listen
Both disturb the peace
the wolf and the priest

They choose the time
they choose the place
they choose the rhyme
they choose the pace

You are incidental
in their scheme of things
They want everyone with ears
To hear the song they sing

Mouths wide open they project
a sound you can't ignore
while they rant and rave
and growl and roar

Though you pray for the end
it will only come
when they both decide
that they are finally done
Sean Hunt Aug 2018
Don't be left, don't be right
Be between
the dark and light
                   Between
the demons of heaven and hell
Be like the pea, under the shell
Be between
the grains of sand
          as they're falling  
                 through your hand
Between
the bubbles as they burst
Sharing all the air on earth
Sean Hunt Aug 2019
Not knowing the why of die
and the hidden truth of lies
The ultimate answer will suffice
for one who must be wise

Because of air there is breath
Because of birth there is death
Cause comes first then effect
Because of cause I win a bet

Because of effect I do not see
beyond the stars and skies
living here in misery
wondering who and why

Because of cause I live on earth
crippled and in fear
Because of cause I tremble
and wonder why I'm here

Because of cause there is a door
through which I'll walk one day
Because of effect I will escape
by rules I put in play

Because of cause someone will show
The path that will be shown
Because of effect we all will learn
those things we need to know
Sean Hunt Sep 2019
In the morning
the day is born
Why do we sometimes
whinge and cry
when the sun rises
in the sky

Why do we whimper
late at night
when death has been
cheated
and at our feet lies
a safe retreat

We fear the hello
we say to the day
We hate goodbye
when the hour is late
We’re oh so fickle
stuck between two pickles
Sean Hunt Jun 2019
There's a deadline
for this rhyme
Let's not be late
Better to be on time

The clock is ticking
ticking away
and soon it will be
the end of the day

My poems are all
under a page
so they don't end up
in the New Age

Succinct and sweet
is the taste I like
for anything
I read or write

Now I'll end right here
in the middle of the sheet
Put up my pen
and put up my feet
Sean Hunt Sep 2017
Between Breaths
take a rest
Stop for a moment or two
there’s nothing that you
really have to do
The world will keep turning
There’s a trick you must learn
Hop off the merry-go-’round
Drop out of this twisted town

A universe of time can be found
when you separate moments
and have a look around

You don’t need to breathe
the air will satisfy
like a piece of meat
When you don’t need to drink
and you don’t need to eat
and the ground just moves
underneath your feet
you can walk on the wind
from the west to the east
Just sit, and enjoy, the feast

A universe of time can be found
when you separate moments
and have a look around
Sean Hunt Jun 2016
Beware the dakini
With the steamy
Serrated edge knife
She alleges
The knife
That can slice
Can tear
And equally bare
The flesh
To air

Be prepared!
Sean Hunt Jan 2016
I had a 'big swallow'
And it almost
Swallowed me

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 17 2016
The Irish have a way with words that no other culture has.  It has even been suggested that they speak English better than the English do :)  This is how one who drinks a lot of alcohol is described:  as having a 'big swallow'
Sean Hunt Jan 2016
I'll bite my tongue
And protect
Others
From
My teeth
Sean Hunt Oct 2019
The sky is not blue
not for me and not for you
fly up there and see
Sean Hunt Oct 2018
Here on planet earth
we’re all
‘B’ Movie Makers
marketing inanity
flirting with insanity
breaking down reality
seeking peas we cannot see
When we search beneath the cup
we find that
only empty space and air
fill it up
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