Author: Ian Hunter

I retired from the energy business in 2014 and started writing poetry. At first I shared my writing with family and friends. Then I set myself a challenge to write a poem every day for a year. After meeting that goal I just kept going and started this blog in 2021. I hope you enjoy reading my poems. Remember happiness is just a state of mind and poetry is great nourishment.

The amorous owl*

Ian Hunter2 Comments

darkness shrouds the bay late evening

the marsh settles down to sleep

intense blackness amplifies every sound

footsteps of a deer leaving the forest

seeking out green pastures to graze

birds have settled down to roost

small mammals find shelter and rest

raccoons come out to play in gangs

looking for mischief like unruly teenagers

suddenly an owl hoots

hoot hoot

deadly silence follows his call

potential prey seek deeper cover

fearing this nocturnal hunter may attack

the raccoons briefly pause

they know an owl can take them down

the owl hoots again

hoot hoot

a second owl answers his call

hoot hoot 

hoot hoot

She is saying I am over here

I am coming to visit you he hoots

hoot hoot

hoot hoot

the raccoons burst into laughter

fits of raccoon giggles over amorous owls

Suddenly the owl swoops by

raccoons all run for cover in panic

the owl flies on towards his mate

he knows he can find food later

he has other plans right now

deer continue nocturnal grazing totally unabashed

hoot hoot

hoot hoot

the delinquent raccoon gangs decide to call it a night

Is narcissism the new normal

Ian Hunter5 Comments

John was born in 1935

in his teenage years he carried a small hand mirror

he took it everywhere he went

holding it at arms length to admire himself

he would invite other to look at his reflection

he was labelled socially awkward and narcissistic

but he kept on looking at his own image

John was eventually placed in an asylum

they took his mirror away for his own safety

he became clinically depressed and withdrawn

no photographs of John exist today

Sarah was born in 2004

she carries her cell phone everywhere

taking selfies to post on social media

she has thousands of snapchat friends

her entire life is devoted to three things

self refection

self promotion

self disclosure

she is considered to be a normal well balanced teenager

Sarah is popular and has lots of friends

she posts at least forty selfies a day

if she keeps this up all her life

there will be more than a million digital records of her face

Take some time out to build a sandcastle in your mind

Ian HunterLeave a comment

A young boy sat on the beach

His parents beside him

He played happily making sandcastles 

A small plastic bucket his only tool

His enthusiasm was intense and he glowed with joy

In just 4 years on this planet

He had learned skills to amuse himself

Totally focused on his task 

He filled his bucket

His young mind empty of distractions

He just built sandcastles

Not concerned with world affairs

No cell phone to answer 

No emails to read

He kept building sandcastles

Void of employment worries

Having no money to spend nor debts to pay

He just filled his bucket

Unaware of peer pressure to conform 

School was something his older siblings worried about

He scooped more sand with his hands

He did not reflect on his glorious gift of innocence

Nor did he allow the world to fill his mind with drivel 

He just played in the sand

Take some time for yourself today

Away from all distractions

Build a sandcastle in your mind

Tableware abuse and rescue

Ian Hunter4 Comments

He loaded the dishwasher

but did not run it

soon after the door closed

they started talking

the plates complained of not being rinsed

you can tell when she is away

he leaves all that food on us

I hate feeling so yucky

the forks joined in

he just throws us in randomly

but she always puts us tines up

I hate being upside down

the cups were crying

he never wipes off the tea ring stain

it won’t come out in washing

he will put us away stained

the plastic cups were inconsolable

we shouldn’t even be in here

she always hand washes us

we will melt and die they screamed

after many uncomfortable days

the overloaded dishwasher finally ran

thank goodness said the knives

soon we will be back in the drawer

when the drawer closed they chatted more

the spoons were furious

we don’t live in this drawer

quiet everybody!….I can hear she is back home

the drawer opened

she apologized profusely to everybody

as they all went back in the dishwasher

they were all tines up happy again

Silent Moon

Ian Hunter4 Comments

I woke up in the middle of the night

no recollection of a bad dream 

no restless thoughts filled my head

not woken by a storm or a strange noise

I was simply wide awake and at peace with all

soft moonlight spilled through a crack in the curtains

something urged me to step outside and explore the night

the back door creaked like the reluctant bones of an old man

cool intoxicating night air filled my lungs

I held my breath for an eternity

fearing that I might wake up sleepwalking

I pinched myself to verify I was truly awake

the golden moon was low on the horizon

silently conducting his nocturnal orchestra

a light breeze propelled invisible dancers across the sky 

rustling leaves provided a choral backdrop

a flute soloist floated aimlessly down the the creek

twinkling stars plucked the harpsichord strings

wispy clouds played violins as they drifted across the moon  

a solitary owl performed a horn solo

the flock of geese joined in with their clarinets

bass drums from a startled deer crashing through the forest

playful mice pianists tickled the ivories 

beautiful calming sounds filled my ears

the entire orchestra fixed their gaze upon the conducting moon

waiting for his signal to play their piece

adjusting the tempo at his command

throughout the performance the moon remained silent

no need to express his thoughts 

his orchestra said it all

Trees are not PC

Ian Hunter2 Comments

they say that palm trees are not really trees

without bark or growth rings they are not real trees

palm trees are apparently a type of grass

one that its really hard to trim with a lawn mower

palm trees can live for hundreds of years

I wonder if other grasses can live so long

who will be mowing my lawn in 2519

probably some kind of robotic device

while the householder mines old youtube archives

laughing at me pushing a lawnmower around 

I wonder where palm trees go when they get really old

no need to retire to a tropical place when you already live there

do real trees look down on palm trees

calling them names like fake trees

yelling things like show us your growth rings

the palm trees start shouting back

you trees have a cold wooden heart 

you are all jealous because we make the coconuts

I think its starting to make sense now

real trees grow in communities called forests

palm trees grow side by side in clumps

the two groups rarely mix together

because they just cannot get along

trees can be so politically incorrect

perhaps we should force them to change

by building communities of mixed palm and real trees

lecturing them on diversity and tolerance

forcing them to hold democratic elections

punishing the badly behaved ones

with public executions by chain saw

will these experimental communities thrive for hundreds of years

most likely nature will just take over after the human species becomes extinct

future palm trees will still grow in the tropics

real trees will still make fun of their grassy neighbors

Grand times on Grand Lake

Ian Hunter4 Comments

A modest sized lake

Alongside the tiny town of Presque Ilse

Nestled close to the giant Lake Huron

A few dozen small islands entice exploring kayakers

Early nineteenth century cottages decorate its shores

Frozen in time but aging with grace

Children playing in the safe shallows

Creating memories that run deep

Tracing the footsteps of their great grandparents

Preserving its beauty for future generations

The low sun rests in the early evening

Its time for cocktails on the lawn

Tall glasses sipped and tall tails told

Grand times on Grand Lake

Tuesdays

Ian Hunter1 Comment

I never really liked Tuesdays.

Too far from the end of the week.

It often rains on a Tuesday, well probably no more than any other day but Tuesday rain is more annoying for some reason.

You need plenty of motivation to fight off those Monday morning blues but by the time Tuesday comes that motivation has worn off.

There are no great sporting events on Tuesdays so there is nothing exciting about TV on a Tuesday.

Things never seem to get done on a Tuesday. Work deadlines are mostly by the end of the week or first thing Monday morning.

Tuesday is not very romantic. How many lovers declare they met on a romantic Tuesday? No great novel starts by describing a glorious Tuesday.

Tuesday dinner at home is usually the worst of the week. You forgot that you finished all those tasty weekend leftovers on Monday and you are too tired to go grocery shopping. Tuesday cuisine is usually canned food or that frozen meal you would never eat by choice.

The best time on a Tuesday is 11.59pm because its almost over and the next Tuesday is a whole week away.

50,000 sheep but no burglars

Ian Hunter5 Comments

The body is weary but the mind is active

3.30am is no time to be suddenly wide awake

Thoughts tumbling in the dead of the night

Eyes open or closed its all the same

Sleep has abandoned me for this night

Refusing to come back like an absconded child 

Rejecting my pleas and ignoring my resting poses

I succumb to the pull of consciousness

Dressing in the dark is a real challenge

No way to verify if my clean underwear is inside out

Feeling my way through the hallway

Trying to remember where the furniture is

Rooms become infinitely big when unseen

Furniture senses me near and deliberately blocks my path

Bruised shins serve as my proximity sensors

Fumbling for the kitchen light switch

At last I find the devilish thing hiding higher up the wall than usual

An explosion of bright light almost blinds me

I squint intensely while making a cup of tea

Telling myself I must fit a dimmer to this kitchen light

It has enough lumens to serve a small town

Sunglasses are donned to ease the squinting

Hot tea tastes so good as the warm liquid is ingested

The warmth gently wakes my dozing stomach

My mind and body are now both officially deemed awake

I make my way to the desk to rudely wake up my laptop

Catching a brief glimpse of my reflection in a mirror

Images of a hung over aging rock star spring to mind

Sporting nocturnal sunglasses and wearing odd socks 

Yes my underwear is on inside out

The T-shirt is on backwards to complete the crazy outfit

I consider going back to bed to count sheep

I calculate my speed of counting

By 7am I could reach well beyond 50,000 sheep

That is a huge flock to be wandering through the pastures of my mind

A bevy of barking sheepdogs will be required to herd them

The sheep and dogs would make so much noise that I could never sleep anyway

I decide to keep the hungover aging rockstar look until dawn

If a burglar broke in right now he would surely be terrified by my image

Walloon Lake waves

Ian Hunter2 Comments

Walloon Lake

Calm clear water

Soft sandy bottom

Summer residences adorn the hillsides

Piers and jetties decorate the banks

A boating paradise

Some come to sail

Kayaks paddle in silence

The more athletic ski and wakeboard

Party barges full of happy people

Each passing boat carves a path

Through the calm waters of Walloon Lake

On a beautiful July evening

Leaving a trailing wake

Waves travel to the shore

Waves kiss the bank softly

Rhythmic lapping waves

Gentle soothing waves

Waves of summer fun

Waves that embrace your soul

Memorable waves

Slowly fading waves

Walloon Lake waves