From a spark of anger
it all happened
one day
when
he should have stayed
sane

His face distorted
instantly
when her words
rattled his head

The surface waves
became too tall
crashing over
roads and walls

The blade spiralled
into her heart
her next life
ready to start

(Every Tuesday the O'Bheal Poetry competition in Ireland suggests five unrelated words and the contest or challenge is to make a poem from those five words.  On July 9th the five words were:  spiral   blade   spark   distort   surface ).  One can google.....' O'Bheal Five-Word poetry'  competition and submit any poems for an annual contest where the winner travels to Ireland all expenses paid to read their poem at an event.

Will I be here
When the next Christmas comes
When winter
Turns the corner
And returns again
Will I see
Another tree

Will I once again
Be able
To leaf back
Through the pages
Of the book
To remember
The space
Between Decembers



             Sean Hunt   Dec 2016 Windermere, UK

I have no excuse
this week
and no
poem either

Footless and unfree
We all found ourselves
singing out of tune
in a vacuum

Both blasphemed and blessed
but delighted by the quietness
we reached the end of plentiness
a place of neither fullness nor emptiness

drizzles down to the ground
sprinkles all around
manic energetic eagles and doves
sweating droplets from above

The seasons were green
thankfully
if it were wintry
we’d have climbed trees

Rats running from the race
carving out personal space
to be alone on their own
in ‘no go’ zones

Sean Hunt

Noise from up above
Noise from east west south and north
When will building end

Though the paper and pen are lovers
It’s only for a short time
The paper and pen will vanish
Just like this time with my rhyme
No pasa nada
Like mother and father
We orphans
Will come and go too
Nothing is new
No need to be blue

Sean Hunt   March 2016

Supercilious creatures
come and go
shouting out
'Bingo'

while

In the garden
some boring plants
seem to lord it over
others

while

innocent
but effervescent
passers-by
spout out
non sense

Essence of
Buddha's teachings
Succinctly stated:
No Self
No Problem

Ok!
I'll write
a poem about flowers for you
but this is something
that I never do

I don't know
the difference
between the flowers I see
and owls and pigeons sound the same to me

I can't discriminate
between
an oak and an elm
The world of trees for me
is another realm

My friend Keith Wilson
has a gardener's green thumb
and this is how
he earned his income

Not easily found
The figure is hidden
In ground
The bell and it's sound
The mind and the body
Me and humanity
The gold and the coin
The sky and it's blue
Your universe
And you

Sean Hunt
Windermere Dec 31st 2015

I wouldn't be caught dead
Writing
A Ten Word Poem

I know that
Some are
Guilty
But
Certainly
Not Me

I was mothered by
A *** slave
And a servant
She never had
A life of her own

She was
Crippled
By Irish
Catholic
Crap

He taught me much,
All that he knew
Of poetry
And misogyny
I am still
Extricating myself
From silly
Inherited habits

No wonder
I live alone!
All the women
Have known
In their bones

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 22 2016

Either an Ocean

Or a Wave

You choose

To be


Sean Hunt  
Windermere
December 1st  2015

Either an ocean
Or a wave, you will be

Maybe you're a child
Of a barren woman
Waiting for
A family reunion

One day you will know
There's no one home
And you have always been
All alone

Doesn't matter anyway
It's Ok
One day you will find
That you don't mind

You can run your own show
Make the rules as you go
Watch the people come and go
Without feeling low

You will never miss your mama
Because you made her up
There won't be any more drama
Now you know you've had enough

Sean Hunt  
2015 in Windermere

Why did you do it Charlie?
You showed the side we hide.
For the comic crucifixion,
On our cross you hung your pride.

You stumbled and you fumbled
In front of the whole world
But much to my surprise
You were a big hit with the girls

I wonder what they saw in you
That they didn't see in me?
Perhaps humble innocence
And vulnerability

Sean Hunt  
2015 June Windermere

Eat your Eton Mess
and all the rest 
of the fattening food
you can fit into
your gluttonous guts

Make a display
in front of us
in front of them
in front of me
so we can clearly see

      the greed of the aristocracy

Caligula would be proud
to join the ‘Hunt’
to find the fox
to feed the hounds
spattering blood
on red coats
all around

This ‘tradition’ 
is sedition
to the king of reason
and the queen of hearts
who rule these parts

Ode To ISIS

(in the Muslim religion if a man wishes to divorce from his wife he does not have to jump through the hoops that we have to jump through;  he only has to say to her seven times:  “I divorce you!”)

ISIS says:
“We love death as you love life”
Don't speak for me, please
Not everyone is as fond of life
As you are of death!

Life has horrors
And as some of us know
We are born and we die
Time after time
We think we come, we think we go.
Some of us know

The only good thing
About this life
Is we can exit forever
Like a man from his wife

I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!
I will not be reborn!

Sean Hunt    
2015 in Windermere

If the truth be told
Only half his heart was gold
The other half was steel
I wish the man they buried
Was at least a little real

It wasn’t his fault
So I’m not really sad
Because both his mum and dad
Were just a little mad

He was a little wounded
When he was a child
Too much time in the trenches
While they all went wild

I never saw them kiss
No one talks about this
Denial of the gloom
And the elephant in the room

Someone I never knew
Went into the ****** hearse
And the epitaph they wrote
Was for another person

Sean Hunt Jan 1st 2017

Ode To Lisa

Written a few months before
My daughter Lisa died
In a drowning incident
Related to her 'dark mystery'
Illuminated by this poem

She was very angry
But she wasn't sure why
Poured ***** on the flames
And watched them fly into the sky
She lived for a while inside the fire
Holding the hand of Joan of Arc
And they were both illuminated
In her dark mystery

Just before she became black ash
She stepped out of her furnace of fire
Slept a while, drank water
And forgot the flames

But in a little while
A spark from her old life
Ignited her hidden rage
And in desperation she escaped, again
From her conventional cage
Into her dark mystery

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

Myopic gunmen spouting out
silliness:
“Four guns to one”, say some
and the deal will be done
“Evil villain children
will be bullet ridden
falling to the ground
before they can fire a round
Before their guns can make a sound
they will be taken down”

There are none so blind
as those who will not see
in the land of the brave
and the home of the free

I think
some of them
think
I am
stupid

Sometimes
I think
I am stupid
Mostly I think
they are stupid

Come to think
of it
we are all
stupid
sometimes

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

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

One Day

Even though I know
You don't exist
Though I know I'm dreaming
I grovel and I grasp,
With a death-grip
At that cascade of pleasures
Dripping from your lip
I am a pathetic man
Seduced by lucid dreams
Tyrannized by
Stinking wishful thinking
Deceived by my delusions
Conned by human confusion
I know better now!
As healthy shame descends
I say, “One day,
One day I will part the veil
Or, better yet, burn it
And then I will see 'Reality”
One Day!

But not today

Sean Hunt  
Windermere August 2015

One season would suit me fine
Steamy summer days and nights
Being warm all the time
One season would suit me fine

I prefer sun and sand
To winter wonderland
Slow spring tease isn't nice
Nor is slippery ice

Autumn often makes me
Moody and Melancholy
I know how much I'll miss those days
When summer was so sultry

Some brazen Brits
Drink their fill
And bare their *******
In the bitter winter chill

I hibernate at home
Most of the time
Where the finger on the
Temperature dial
Is mine

Sean Hunt  
2015 January Windermere

One more breath is done
And then another one
How many more?
I cannot say
Another hour
Another day?
Another year?
How many more?
I cannot say

We walk the path
We have no choice
To stay, to play
Another day
Though we plead
Though we pray
The path we take
Is one-way



Sean Hunt  Dec 24 2016

This little bird,
Only has one wing
Walks around on the ground,
And doesn't even sing
He only has one wing,
And he doesn't know a thing

He's a one winged bird,
He's smart  
        But he has a little heart            

All he knows, is what he sees
On the ground,
Between his knees,
Looking down on the ground
In the leaves

He's a one winged bird,
He's smart  
    But he has a little heart        

My love is unconditional,
If you do what I say
I love you sometimes,
If you love me every day
My love is unconditional,
But don't get in my way

I'm a one winged bird,
I'm smart  
But I have a little heart      

This little bird,
Only has one wing
Walks around on the ground,
And doesn't even sing
He only has one wing,
And he doesn't know a thing

Sean Hunt
  2015 Feb 12th Windermere

My soup will beat any Michelin meal
Maybe mine is much more real
Though there's nothing in the bowl
it tastes so good
and every thing is understood
My favourite meal is onion soup
Every day I dine on ultimate truth
I eat my layers of onion one by one
I'm so happy when I get to the middle one
Sipping onion soup with my inner eye
What a wonderful taste, My Oh My!
When there's nothing to eat
nothing to chew
it's time to digest
There's nothing to do

I think I am an Irish man
As mum and dad both come from there
But only mum knew with certainty
All the blood that flows in me

I could be Greek or Israeli
Or I could be a ****** Brit
He could have come from over the sea
I may not be proud of it

I don’t dance well, and I’m not mulato
So African blood doesn't flow
I’ve never pinched my pennies
So Scotch blood there’s not any

But I had such a ****** big swallow
I drank so much whiskey and wine
I think I must admit it that it’s all
Irish blood in these veins of mine

Sean Hunt   June 8 2016

On the train
Again
Strangers all around
Big and little
Hurted heads
Nothing said
Credit to
The kindest mother
Ever seen
'Tween
Now and then
Somehow seems
So long a time
Between my rhymes

Soon I'll be
Home again
Off the train
Let it blow
Let it rain
The cold will
Stay outside
And inside I will hide

Sean Hunt  
Between Scotland and Windermere
2015 English Winter

My mind,
Like a wound,
Hurts me when you move

Original Face

What did your original face
Look like
Before this life
The one that you had
Before your parents were born

Your primordial face
The one that has nothing to do
With the human race
Can you remember?

Expressionless?
The same as the rest?
Utterly unique,
One of a kind?
A ten?

Those were
Pre-'selfie' days!
We can only contemplate
In a  state of
Curious wonder
Ruminate
Hallucinate.

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 2015

We have our Rising Moon
That brings light
In the darkness of night

And the rays of our Sun
Will make our sky
Clear and dry

We have the Shade
Of a leafy tree
How lucky can we be?

And our Medicine
That works so well
Let’s now ring all our bells

And our Bridge that crosses
The Galaxies
To where there’s nought to see

Sean Hunt     June 12 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

Our mind is like a field
Receiving many seeds

They can become  delicious fruit
Bitter fruit
Or troublesome weeds

The luck of a lottery
Sometimes surprises

Or good fortune may come
In other disguises

Only later do we see
With clarity
The truth of many
An unfolding
Seedling mystery

In our mind
Are planted
Many seeds

Out of sight

Sean Hunt  
Feb 26th 2015

Both of our truths shine
Equally bright
In the light of day
And in the darker light
Of the moon
At night

Some people know
The easier truth
Some of the time;
This truth,
Though easily known
Is oft forgotten
Right away
Not lasting the day

The other truth
Not obscured
Is never known
By the minds of youth
It needs a more steady mind
To find the flame
Then to keep it alight
Day and night

Sean Hunt
Windermere Dec 27 2015

Katie *****
is feeling out of sorts
Her world is turning
upside down
She's staying in
another town
where doctors
and nurses
are running around
testing her blood
every day
giving her apples
so she can say
"Doctors please go away"

We miss her here
in Windermere
and hope she turns
a corner soon
and comes back to
'The Land Of The Lakes'
where friends and family
await

We can walk on water
We can walk on air
In dreams we walk
Everywhere

Life is lucid
Some of the time
But it doesn’t
Always rhyme

Let’s step out of the box
And break the chains
Then nothing will ever
Be the same

Sean Hunt June 2nd 2016

paper turns purple
as it imitates the flames
licking animals

There's a reason, there's a rhyme
Behind the pantomime
I see something behind the scene
Do you know what I mean
Don't  fly too high, or fall too low
One thing you must know, it's all a shadow show

Nothing's the way that it seems
Just try to find me, and every thing you see
Turn every thing upside down
In the country and the town
Don't believe your eyes, they only tell lies
That goes for you, and me, and every thing we see

Nothing's the way that it seems
Even the dreamer is dreamed

Try to touch the things you see, try to touch me
In the end you'll be staring at air, because there's nothing out there
Human confusion we see, don't believe your dream
It's human confusion we see, don't believe your dream

Nothing's the way that it seems
Even the dreamer is dreamed

There's a reason, there's a rhyme
Behind the pantomime
I see something behind the scene
Do you know what I mean?
Sean Hunt
Windermere  Jan 13 2016

Sappy pap poetry
Does not do a thing for me

It seems to be her theme
a war against patriarchy
makes those men bleed
the ones that will not see

Apply a little pain
over here and over there
catching their attention
she has them in a stare

But she never blinks
until she’s heard and seen
until they open both their eyes
until they bend their knee

Paul is not a Pope  

     (or...’A Tricky Trump Trooper’)
          (….aka Paul Manafort)

We only know a little now
how he broke commandments
the higher-ups say today
they were of god and the USA

Seems allegiance was displaced
to some other countries
on another continent
way across the sea

He gave to himself generously
doesn’t appear to be a dope
he washed a lot of money
dressed and traveled like a pope

                        Sean Hunt Oct 31

People, like rainbows
Enter our lives
They shimmer and shine
People like rainbows
Come with the sun
Then they go
Where, we don’t know

People like snow
Appear in our scene
Like a winter dream
People like snow
After their show
One day, with the sun,
Will go

People like water
Fall through our hands
Try as we may
We can’t make them stay
People like water
Vanish from sight
Just like the night

Sean Hunt  April 23 2016

I have been given permission
to sit in the sea
to be bathed in bliss
and play in the waves
as they wash over me
to stare in the face of reality
but what do I do?
I sit in the sand
holding handfuls of grains
watching them slip away
through my hands
back in the sand
one by one
until the setting of the sun


Sean Hunt  May 2017

Person
is
nothing more than
an actor in
a communal script
written by corpses
in a karmic crypt

Place
is
nothing more than
a thought about
imagined
territory

Time
is
nothing more than
a bursting bubble
in the sea
of eternity

I am a silly man
I cried an ocean or two
Over you
A phantasm
A mere appearance
In my tiny made-up
Dream world
Of boys and girls

I never did
Understand
How you could
Stand out
In a crowd
Of billions

A mad magnet
Must have made it happen

I exaggerated your importance
In the scheme of 'things'
You were not really
Bigger than the world
You were not really
Divine enough to be
'Mine'
You did not really
Possess magic potions
That could cast a permanent spell
And erase my living hell

A mad magnet
Must have made it happen

Sean Hunt    Feb 2017

This is a truth
That few seem to see
The Pharoahs are now
The Pharisees

They wander although
They don’t really know
They think He will come
And they will go

They think they are ‘chosen’
That they are the few
Who will be at his side
With everything shiny and new

This equation leads to
Perpetual war
With others
Who also see with a sword

There is no solution
I’m sorry to say
At least not
Today

Sean Hunt