You see an inanimate me,
Frozen in time,
Don't believe this subtle deception.
Focus well, my friend.
Watch the form of my face change
Ever so slowly.
In the ground of the coin
Surrounding me
I swim in a sea of minted metal
I walk through a landscape world
Breathing silver air
A regal persona
Looking like
A permanent phenomenon.
But I am not!
This is a lie!
I am worthless tender
On earth.
I am only a minted man
Don't pay me much attention
I'll melt away, one day
I am the coin,
The coin is me.
Now do you see
Who I am not?

Sean Hunt  
Windermere  2015

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

I think too much about me
And things that I think that I see
If I check again, another day
I’ll find they were never there,
Anyways

Psychotic illusion
Karmic confusion
Wrong view
And a bad attitude

Small problems for me
To one day overcome
When the moon is more bright
Than the sun

Sean Hunt  April 30 2016

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

There is no ‘out-there’ out there
Said a wiser man to me
We’re putting ‘out-there’ out there
For all of us to see
It’s a dangerous game
Do you know the rules?
Astoundingly
Most of us think
Everyone
Around us
Is a fool
We need look no further than
The end of our nose
Just above
We find our eyes
The ones we think are wise
But all they do
Is let in light
To make a show
Inside
On the screen of our mind
What we think we see outside
We can never find

Sean Hunt Dec 5 2016

Sean Hunt Dec 5 2016

My Horrible Habit

My horrible habit of laziness
Chains me to the ground
In the epicentre
Of the circumference
Of my life

I do what I like to do
And nothing else
Expending all my energy
On myself

My inconsideration for others
For all my mothers
Is utterly unacceptable

I must tie my mind
To the stake
And burn my self away

Sean Hunt  
Windermere April 2015

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

A stranger came
Landing like a fly
Stayed some days
Then didn't want to go away
He thought
This bag
Of bones
And flesh
Was his own
He thought he was home
And didn't seem to know
He'd have to go

To play another part
In another play
In another cabaret



Sean Hunt  Feb  2017

Homage To Sarasvati

Consort of
The One
Holding in his hand
A raised silver sword
Who helps
slice
A momentary
Middle  way
Through your day

Woman of
The spoken word
And songs that are sung
Delighting the ears
Of all who hear
Gliding upon
The wings of a swan
Wearing a heavenly
Silken suit
With two arms holding
A lute

With the swish
Of his sword
Words of wisdom
And reverence
Words of aural
Eloquence
Igniting bliss
In hearers' hearts
Which through the channels
Slowly flows,
When wisdom words are heard

Sean Hunt
Windermere  2015

She's Steady And She's Spry

Although I'm more than sixty one
Someone thinks that I am young
You know I live beside a woman
Who's a hundred and one

She's steady and she's spry
Has a sparkle in her eye
I see her nearly every day
And she can hear what I say

She can listen, she can laugh
And put a tear in your eye
When you're realize you're letting
Your days slip by

Sean Hunt  
Feb 23rd 2015

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

Imagine
There is a law
Your own child
You never saw
Every mother
Given another baby
To take home
To love as her own

The word 'Masturbatory'
Is rather naughty,
Using it
Doing it
Talking about it

But it's perfect poetry
And I know
I need to use it

To describe
Some poetry.

Anything longer
Than a page
Is in grave danger
Of having that label
Slapped
On it!

Sean Hunt
Windermere

Surgery they say for Keith
and he sees the surgeon soon
Then he waits and within eighteen weeks
knows the date he'll be off his feet

He's now in his eighties
and gets around without a walking stick
He says the surgery is a bother
and he's not looking forward to it

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

Do you ever wonder
Is there’s any thing to find
In the wide world
Outside your mind

The whys and the wherefores
The reasons and the rhyme
For dreams of the night
And the daytime

There is coming and there’s going
One day things will end
All the walls will fall
All the wounds will mend

There’s a space between every thing
A cushioning of air
Everything will be OK
If we stay in there

In the crevices and cracks
In all realities
We will find a deep
And everlasting peace

March 25 2017

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

What a kiss last night!
Ultimate exquisite bliss
From only a kiss.
I was satisfied.
It was enough.
Unsurpassable.

No yearning for more
Or for something else,
No painful neediness,
No hedonistic greedy
Begging for
Those blasphemous bells
That shake the house
And douse the mind
With dullness and deadness
Then sleep.

I awoke
With the microscopic memory
Of a slow caresssing
Of mouths
And  tongues,
Of each holy moment,
And a silent sigh
Of ecstasy.

It was only a dream

Sean Hunt  
Windermere November 15 2015

Boris is bouncing
all over the field
with the power
he now yields
But he’ll soon
run into a wall
finding himself
‘behind the eight ball’
when he messes with Ireland

The ‘Real IRA’
may save the day
They blew Mountbatten
out of his boat
and into the sea
for messing
with history
I wonder
if  Jacob and Boris
can see
the tempting targets
they are
in British aristocracy

If I tell you
the truth of time
and of nursery rhymes
will you believe
what I say?

If I tell you
the truth of the lie
the one we all buy
will you believe
what I say

When I tell you
the truth of the void
you may be annoyed
will you believe
what I say

When I tell you
the truth of Saint Nick
and you say I’m a cynic
will you believe
what I say

There are more truths than one
under our sun
There’s yours, there’s mine
but there isn’t a line
They are all the same
in this game that we play
and the books of rules
are written by fools

It's inside out
Not outside in
This explains
The state we’re in

It's downside up
Not upside down
We’re in charge of the sun
The moon and stars

Break the box
Chop the chain
Scrap that trap
Stop being insane

    Sean Hunt  May 2017

Today and every day
I will keep watch
For subtle movements of mind
Which slowly morph
Into ripples
In the stillness
Of the surface
Of the sea
Of my mind

Those ripples
Sometimes stay small
And subside
But
They may become waves
Which lick the shore
Slowly
Eroding as they go

I must keep watch
Ripples may become waves
Which can one day become
Human Tsunamis

I will keep my mind
Ripple-free
Happy

I must keep watch

Sean Hunt
Windermere April 6 2015

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
So stay around
I’ll want you when my grass is brown

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

To dodge a bullet of blame
To pretend I've won a game
To protect an illusory self
From the eyes of everyone else

To turn away from a truth
To seem to be smooth
To defend my point of view
So no one can see through

To twist somebody's arm
To turn off an alarm
To take a pound or two
Maybe away from you

To protect my reputation
To cause a sensation
To play my ****** bail
To stay out of a jail

To paint a pretty picture
To get a little richer
To win a competition
To be a magician

Sean

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

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

Shadowy Man

If I am a shadowy man
What can this mean?
What shadow do I cast?
And where does it land?
If I am a shadowy man?

What does this mean?
Is something partially seen,
The view obscured
By something else,
Maybe by you?

The truth is:
I am a simple shadow
Cast by the bright clear light
Of my very subtle mind

I have nothing to do
With how you see me
Moment to moment.
That is up to you

Sean Hunt  
2015 January Windermere

SO WHAT!  
or  Ode to Uncle Chuck

"So what"....growled uncle Chuck
(Charles O'Malley)
When he'd had enough.
His almost predictable
Dissertation time
Had arrived.
His succinct
Oratorial
Platitude
Delivered
With attitude
Usually somewhere between
Three and four
O'Keefes in the morning.
Only he knew
The content of his
Hypothesis
He would only reveal
The title.
Keeping his thesis
Secret.

Korsakoff
Perhaps had a more
Intimate relationship
With Uncle Chuck.
Maybe he knew
What Chuck meant
When he said
"So what!"

Sean Hunt
Windermere, 2014

I dreamed I was a wind walker
saw my mind smile
defied the law of gravity
each stride almost a mile

Effortless I flew
like wind or like sound
gliding through the air
an inch above the ground

Elation best describes
the feeling in my mind
liberated from the land
and the life I left behind

Murk

Occasionally
A very worthwhile
And beautiful verse
Will bubble
To the surface
Through the pretentious murk
Of pretender-Poets
Please
Forgive
My pathetic contribution
To the world of murk

Where is my poem
Where can it be found
Before it's written down
It cannot be found

Then when written down
And read by someone new
Do they read the poem
Read by me or you?

Is the title the poem
Or the first line
If you check you will see
It's not any single line

The poem's not a verse
The poem's not a word
The poem's not a salad
Of sounds that are heard

The poem is unfindable
Try, if you dare
You cannot point at it
Or find it anywhere

It may inspire some ire
You may burn it in a fire
Or place it in a gilded frame
To be read again and again

But!  If your poem is about a certain man
Be careful what you say
Assassins may come
And take your life away

Sean Hunt  
Windermere May 201

They say the climate's changing?
I say "Of course!
It never stays the same
south or north"

One thing we should know-
Everything is coming
and going
in the same moment

Will there be a war?
someone said to me today
I said "Is there ever not a war?
Peace never stays,  not even for a day?"
Until we all fly away

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

It's such a sad scene
We're messing with our movie
Scratching on the screen
Not knowing we're projecting
A very bad dream
It's such a sad scene
And the source of it all
Is a toxic stream
It's such a sad scene

We're bathing in a waterfall
Downstream
From a dam
Made by
The mind of man
And we don't even know
Each drop is a sham
Unaware
We sit and stare
Unaware

Sean Hunt
Windermere November 9, 2015
https://vimeo.com/145128638 (recitation)

Rely On Your Middle Eye

Everything’s not the way it seems
Just like night and day in dreams
Rely on your middle eye

We are all like rainbows
First we come and then we go
Rely on your middle eye

If you don’t want to be a dream-seller
Or a story-teller
Rely on your middle eye

If you don’t want to beat someone’s drum
Or make sure that their bell is rung
Rely on your middle eye

If you don’t know where the road goes
Or ‘round the bend where the river flows
Rely on your middle eye

Sean Hunt    April 4 2016

(I was asked to be part of a four-person panel at a conference in Glasgow dedicated to the arts and mental health. The work of Leonard Cohen was explored in our panel of a journalist, a musician, a poet and a mental health /arts organizer, all sharing a deep fondness for Leonard and his music/lyrics/poetry. On my way home I wrote this poem about the panel experience:)

For an hour
four of us spoke of you
today
sharing views
how it was listening to
the music that you made
how you helped us
make it through
the darkness
of our days
You soundtracked lives
from Quebec
to Glasgow town
in the UK
the place from which
you ran away
to the dry
Aegean Hydra Isle
to meet the muse
named Marianne
whose beauty was unstained
whose mountain you would climb
to wash
your eyelids in the rain

We are not fans
though we would stand
for long days
to see your face
to hear your songs
special sounds sung
coming through
from you
so we could hear
through blessed ears

We are not fans
We are fortunate ones
Who have touched the philosopher’s stone

Sean Hunt April 20th 2017

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

Imagined Dream (2b)

Imagine
An imagined ******
Outside the state
Of awakedness
In the middle of the night
With your eyes and  mind
Shut tight
Without a worldly boy or girl

Imagine
You can step between
Each microcosmic
Moment in time
Humming along
To the eternal
*******
Existential rhyme

Gaté  Gaté  Gaté

This is the state
Of everlasting
Awakedness

Sean Hunt
Windermere
(in the middle of the night)
November 5th 2015

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

Green is not my favourite colour
but I know not why
others love the green of trees
I seem to love the sky

The colour I prefer
is the one way up high
the blue that can be seen
when we look up at the sky

But if I fly up there
to find something that's blue
I'll never find a blue sky
it simply isn't true

Dream Of Yesterday    

How is your dream of  yesterday
Is it running away with you again?                                
Are you dropping the reins, drifting away,
How is your dream of yesterday?

Are you remembering dreams of another day
Trying so hard to rewrite the play
Reading reviews of yesterday's news
How is your dream of yesterday?  

Are you chasing the shadows in your show  
First they come and then they go      
Watching them all night and day
Believing what they say  

Where were you when she went away
Do you remember your dream that  day?
You didn't know her shadow would go
It walked right out of your show  

Sean Hunt   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

I almost ate a wasp
last week
By the time
my sweet
reached my mouth
wasps were circling
all about
If I didn't check
before I bit
I would have regretted it

I Need A New Name

I need a 'Protection Scheme'
Why?
Life is mafioso mean,
A very bad dream

I need protection
From the past
From the things that I have done
To almost everyone

I need protection
From the present
If I keep being me
I'll be tortured and tormented

I need a new mandala
I need a new name
Everything will change
Nothing will stay the same

I need a new name

Sean Hunt
Windermere December 20th 2015

Guru Haiku
A great man lived, died----
and lived, so they say,
and lives on in human hearts.

Two Moths

Two moths are flying around the same fire
being burned by the same flame
both are trying to get close to the light
but  no one is winning this game

Both of them looking for the same thing
in the very same place
and they arrive at the same time
in the very same space

It’s so hard to fly with you’re wings on fire
because they’re fanning the flame
then we’re surprised by what we see
with all our open eyes

I think I am embedded in this tapestry
I think that every thing I see
Is outside of me

I couldn’t be more wrong
This mistaken view
Is Oh so wrong

How long will I carry on?
The habits of an addict
Are so ****** strong!

Even though I know
I grab the water as it falls
I am like a baby with a ball

I am the loom
The wool and the weaver
The giver and the receiver

Sean Hunt

I am a poet freak, no doubt
Some who read my rhymes
Pull their hair out
One at a time

A romantic poet I am not
What you see is what I’ve got
A twisted view, from me to you
At least it’s something new

Sean Hunt

April 18 2016

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

How delighted was I
To be invited
To the ‘Poet-Freaks’

Sometimes my rhyme
Goes to waste
It’s an acquired taste

Some say
When they read my verse
‘There can’t be much worse’

Well now I feel quite at home
With my fellow zanies
Who never make the ‘dailies’

Sean Hunt