I appreciate your kindness
And attention
Giving me a moment or two
Of your precious time.

I will try to make this meaningful for you.
I will not say too much,
I will try to say just enough.

I used to use so many words
That none were heard.

Like olives,
Or a piece of cheese,
Like any delicacy,
Less is enough,
Washed down
By Ale that's brown,
Or wine that's fine.

Sean Hunt
Windermere July 2015

Could this
Possibly,
Finally,
Be,
A poem
Without
A theme?

Sean Hunt
Windermere Dec 20 2015

Mountain Men

Some people like many mountains all around
So they can keep climbing up and down
I like to stay down on the ground
And watch my wheels going 'round and 'round

When they get to the the top of this mountain here
They stand and look at that mountain there
Then they climb to the top of that mountain there
To look back at this mountain here

Then they call this mountain here
'That mountain over there'

And so it goes everywhere
Nobody really knows if they're here or there
Yes so it goes everywhere, nobody really knows
If they're here or there.

Sean Hunt
.....somewhere in Spain March 2015

Although I had fun
Strumalong days
Are over and done

Sean Hunt May 2 2016

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

God Save The Queen


What if one doesn't believe in the Queen?
What if the Queen is mean?
Atheists who sing that song
Will feel so wrong

Does she ever need saving,
from anything?
Seems a silly song to sing
Aristocratic royalty
Does not speak for me

If you have Irish blood
Flowing through your veins
And you sing this song
Your ancestors
Roll over in their graves

When Armageddon finally comes
They'll be on the wrong side of the road
And when Armageddon finally comes
They will still weigh in stones


Sean Hunt
September 2015

I am so happy to hear
That we are talking
More precisely
About which 'I' is which
About which 'I'  I am
Talking about
At any given time
About which 'I' is true
For me
And which is true
For you

If 'I' is red
Or 'I' is blue
What does this mean
For me and you?

Praise the lord!
We know it's not
A photoshop
Airbrush job
On our old 'I',

No cosmetic 'I'
Surgery
For you and me

Hallelujah!

Move over,
Michael Jackson

Sean Hunt
Windermere, Nov 1st 2015

I have not tried to see
Through the eyes of a refugee

I am aware of them
Here and there
And in between
But I have not seen
Through their eyes
I have not measured
I have not weighed
The worlds they leave
Nor the worlds they imagine
Across the sea

I know one of them
Through a friend
When her journey ended
She said she started off
In a wave
Of many hopeful souls

She has now arrived
In her new world
Has a husband
And a child
And a house
And a new tongue to talk in

Though introduced
We never met
Her wounded way
From there to here
Was flooded in tears
An inundation

An escape
An emigration
Of desperation
Manipulation
By a gauntlet of men
A bartering of copulation
Then,
Immigration

“The rest died
Only I survived”
She said

Sean Hunt  Jan 2 2017

Every thing you see
With all of your eyes
All of your reality
Is shifting
Like the sand
And the sea

Do not cry
Or wonder why
Accept this truth
Like a lover
In your youth

Drink deep
With all your senses
Taste
Embrace
This wisdom consort
Of yours

She will  take you
To a place
Of bliss and grace
Far away
From the human race

Sean Hunt  May 14 2016

When I see you
Memories are stirred
Breath is heavy with a flood
And it sort of looks like love
But I don’t trust this anymore
I’ve been here so many times before

You make me want to dive
Once again
Into that hedonistic heaven
Where we’re surrounded by
And drowning in our senses
A place where there’s no sound
Anywhere around
There is where I’d  love to live
A little while with you
You seducing me
Me seducing you
And nothing else to do

Nowadays I’m older
The hair that’s left is grey
And I like to sleep a lot
Each and every day
I’m quiet
I’m retired
And I’m feeling free
But I have these memories
And now fantastic fantasies,
Too
All because of you

Breath is heavy
Heartbeat fast
While I wonder whether,
I may have left
The best ‘til last

Sean

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

Lama Leonard
Sing me a song again,
Before your life is over
Before you leave the stage and dive
Down below the clover
Before you reap the seeds you sowed
The wild world over
Between the alphas and the omegas
In bawdry nights inside bodegas


Lama Leonard listen to  
My song before you go
I've listened to yours since sixty eight
And now it's getting late
Ukulele days are numbered now
I  finally found my key
I'd like to know,  before I go,
You listened once to me

Sean Hunt  2013

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

When the weather's too fine
we whine
When the weather's bad
we're mad
When is too dry
we cry
When is too wet
we fret
In the hail
we wall
If it changes
we complain
If it doesn't
we go insane
We don't like
a lightning strike
Hearing thunder
make us wonder
what we've done
In the sleet
we crave some heat
and when it cools down
we frown
When it heats up
we've had enough
In the fog
we curl up with the dog
When it's too breezy
we're sneezy
Come the frost
we're lost
When there's ice
it's not nice
and in the snow
we don't go
anywhere

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 over-exaggerate our importance, arrogantly and drastically overestimating our relevance to the orbit of all the planets and galaxies, and living beings surrounding us.

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

Had To Turn Back

Been there
Done that
I figured
For me
That's not
Where it's at

My meditations
Used to be
In a frozen
Space station
Somewhere far
From the destination

Had to turn back
Take another tack
Start looking
Through the light
In the cracks

Sean Hunt  
Windermere December 19 2015

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

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

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

Monarchic Rant

Though I was born in Britain
I am not a 'Brit'
I do not fit in
Their houses are so cold
Because they are too cheap
To turn up the ****** heat

I find some of them deceitful,
They self-righteously pretend
To be serene
And peaceful
But love to fight
All over the world
Blasting other beings
Into the netherworld

Tied to tradition
They insist
On going against the global grain
They weigh in stones
And still drive on the wrong
****** side of the road

They sing 'God Save The Queen'.
God has more common sense
He believes the word 'Excellency'
A too commonly used currency
Slapped, like a hat
On the head of a simple aristocrat

God save the common people
Living under too many thumbs
Of  pretentious and powerful people,
With utterly obscene incomes

Sean Hunt  Windermere Dec. 7, 2015

What Trees Mean To me

Nothing

I could live in the desert
I could live in the sea
I could live happily
Never seeing a tree

That's not to say
I don't enjoy
The seemingly
Endless trees
Within a tree

And
That's not to say
I don't enjoy
Many tree
Analogies

That's not to say
I wouldn't welcome
A breeze
And the shade
Of a tree
On a very hot day

But I could live in the desert
And I could live in the sea
I could live happily
Without
Ever seeing a tree
Or a daffodil

Sean Hunt
Windermere Oct 31st 2015

The noisy
Burp-filled
Extravaganza,
The fiesta
Of drama
And dance
And drink

It will not come again
For a few moments
For some

For others
For an infinity of
Unwanted moments

For others
It will not come along
Because they will be gone

For those who are blind
Like me
It will pass unseen

Sean Hunt
Jan 1st 2016 Windermere

My deep and dark subtle mind
Moves behind the scenes
Manipulating and directing every thing
Giving meaning to my every move
Now, to understand the logarithm
Keeping time, keeping rhythm
Hidden agenda, hidden theme
For my painful problematic dream

Sean   March 2016

We are all surfing 
under the surface of the sea
running into sunken wrecks
from ancient histories

Though the currents are strong
and the darkness cold
with courage we carry 
their baggage of old

Drunken sailors and their wives 
made a mess of our lives
but we seem to have survived
their promises and lies

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

Hey sister, hey brother
Hey there child of a childless mother
I looked for you, you looked for me
We both found no one to see

Every breath that I breathe
I think of mum I think of me
She never ever had a child
But here I am stuck inside
This body that was never born
Feelin’ lost and forlorn

Watch
Every moment going by
Don’t feel low
Don’t feel high
Think of mum
Think of me
Remember
There’s no one to see

If you forget and think you’re real
Remember, here’s the deal
Our mother never had a child
We were never born, we’ll never die

  Sean Hunt Dec 23 2016

Well
Do I have a plot
To lose
Or not?

Why were we together
And why did we part
Why did we ever plunge
That knife into our hearts?

Our love is not forgotten
It was deep and it was true
Somehow the link was weak
Between me and you

Since that day what was said
And what was heard
I wonder if there's anything
At all that we have learned

If we could listen to the clinking
Of the karma chain
We would know how and why
Everything has changed

Sean Hunt

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

In the middle of the riddle of life and death
You’ll find the answers that you haven’t found  yet  

Tell me why tell me why do the good die young
It’s just a story in a song that’s sung  
Tell me why you don’t love me when I love  you
Can you tell me why the sky is blue

Aye aye aye aye aye we wonder why
Aye aye aye aye aye we sigh and cry  

In the middle of the riddle of life and death
You’ll find the answers that you haven’t found  yet  
            
Tell me why tell me why do we have to  die
Because you gotta find another ‘I’  
Tell me why tell me why things come and go
Because every thing is like spring snow

Aye aye aye aye aye we wonder why
Aye aye aye aye aye we sigh and cry  

In the middle of the riddle of life and  death
You’ll find the answers that you haven’t found  yet  

Tell me why tell me why is the snow so white
Because we like things dark and bright  
Tell me why tell me why I can’t live  forever
One thing you gotta learn is not to say never

Aye aye aye aye aye we wonder why
Aye aye aye aye aye we sigh and cry  

In the middle of the riddle of life and death
You’ll find the answers that you haven’t found yet

Sean Hunt

Now I  have many sisters, and I  have many brothers
And we're all children, of a  childless mother
And we can't complain, ever again
about the wind, or the rain, no never again

We were never born so we can’t complain
about the wind, and the rain

They say my name is Sam, but it's all a sham
Because they gave that name to a motherless man

Maybe you're wondering what it's all about
And maybe you're wondering how I found out

If I don't have a mother then my life's a lie
And it makes me wonder why, 'cause I'll never die

And if I never had a mother then I'll never have a lover,
so now I know I'll never have a lover

Poor old Sam he's a lover-less man
And Sara will be holding another man's hand
He never had a mother so he'll never have a lover
Poor old Sam, he's a lover-less man

He a motherless man, lover-less Sam
Lover-less Sam is a motherless man

Sara's also the child of a childless mother
So Sam and Sara are perfect lovers
because they'll never have a problem with their mothers
They're perfect lovers
because they'll never have a problem with their mothers
They’re perfect lovers

I was requested
To write a rhyme about rain
By a soldier man who lives
Almost in a lake

I thought of rain
Again and again
In time,
A rain rhyme came

From me to you,
Mr. Hill
Who lives
In 'The Lakes'

Rain rain go away
Come again
Some other day
Today I want to play

Rain rain go away
But not for long
Or I’ll complain
Stay around
I’ll want you when
My grass is brown

Rain rain stay around
My kayak doesn’t work well
On the ground

Rain rain
Once in a while
I will delight
When my feet are warm and dry
By the firelight

I will watch you through
My windowpane
In  ease
As you paint
Your Three D
Masterpiece

O essential element
Presenter of presents
Why do we lament
So much
Your ever-present presence


Sean Hunt April 16 2015

For video recitation: see link below

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

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

Take off your soggy shoes
Put them to the side
And come with me
Enjoy the day
As we splash and spray
And play

Watch the water
Feeling real
As it runs
From here to there
Spreading everywhere

Walk with me
Through our fountain
Of Reality

Sean Hunt   Sept 11 2016

I had a 'big swallow'
And it almost
Swallowed me

Sean Hunt
Windermere Jan 17 2016

I’m as old as you
You’re as old as me
We should not be
Deceived
By everything
That we see

Sean Hunt

A river flows from the farmer's field into two streams.

From one stream a sidestream very occasionally trickles into the mouths of men but most of this stream becomes a rapidly rushing river flowing to factories who process and put it into pretty packages.  This stream flows into global supermarkets to be displayed and sold to man.

Another stream flows into the barn and into the mouths of animals owned by man.  That stream stays there dammed-up, but only for a while.  When the stream has fattened man's animals the animals flow into a stream that flows into the mouths of men.  

Need we discuss subsequent streams?

...Or the rivers inside the body of man?

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

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

The eleventh of May
The date of today
Was the day of the birth
On this fortunate earth
Of a poet of note
Of Keith Wilson I speak
Published, prolific
Read in the cities
Read on the beach
On tablets and towers
They love his technique
From flowers and gardens
To grief and departures
His readers rejoice and celebrate
This holy happy date

Sean Hunt  Windermere  2016

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

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

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

(Leonard Cohen)

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

“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

Jerome Taheny says
That the word
'Unfindability'
Sparks
His imagination

I will tease you out
from where you hide
under reasons tainted with pride
behind the walls built to conceal
all of the things
we do not reveal

If I can find the end of the thread
then follow the cotton
I’ll apprehend
something of value
to barter in the market
where they sell
trinkets
and old clothes

We will come to conclusions
that serve us both
for one perhaps
an unutterable oath
for the other
a manic
depressive episode

Ferry Christmas

There is no snow
Now 'tis the season
To get a little wet
Why are Brits surprised
When they're
Up to their eyes
In water?

When we weigh in stones
And drive on the wrong
Side of the road
Why wouldn't abodes
Begin to float?

We foreign men
Have seen some signs
We're not surprised
By what we see
In the Queen's country

The land's a little low,
And a little high
Are the lakes and sea.
There doesn't seem to me
Much mystery.

Ferry Christmas!
If the sea surrounds us all
It'll be 'The Life of Pi'
When we have to abandon
This English atoll

Sean Hunt
Windermere Xmas 2015

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