#budddhist
There are those who worship
At the altar of the ear
Who when they hear a certain note
Will shed a tear.
Some worship
Pastoral scenes
Seeing lakes and trees
They slip into a dream.
The church of haute cuisine for some
Is where they go
Every day
To kneel and pray
There are those whose smell sensation
Equates to olfactorial
Adulation
And infatuation
Some hedonists wouldn’t mind
Being blind
Tactile delights forever
Would suit them fine
Though my five senses
Work quite well
I find myself mainly interested
In my mind.
Sean Hunt May 6 2016
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
Watch my poem start
Without a theme
As I wonder where
The words will come from
And what they will mean
Maybe one thing for you
Another for me
Maybe nothing for some
And something for
A 'Fortunate One'
Sean Hunt
Windermere
Easter Sunday 2015
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 3:49 PM UTC
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
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
How well do we know the “I”
That we see
With our eyes?
The “I”
That we see
With our eyes?
Is illusory
For you,
And for me
It cannot be found
Even if you search
All around
What about the
Very subtle “Me”,
The “I” that
I cannot see?
The “I” that is really
'Me'
My very subtle mind
Is the 'I'
That I really need to
Find
Sean Hunt
Windermere, October 23 20125
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC