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.

Things that go missing in the middle of the night

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the bright moon rose into a cold dark sky

stars and planets shone bright

pinpricks of light piercing the cold blackness

residual heat in the ground was sucked into space

nocturnal silence blanketed everything

time slowed down as sunny skies became a distant memory

he stepped out into the darkness

his frozen breath captured in the moonlight

3am was the perfect time for his clandestine mission

as people slept inside their warm beds

he was looking for a vehicle to steal

wandering the wealthy suburbs he spotted a shiny new Mercedes

the house was in darkness with an unlocked back door

he crept through the hallway searching for the car key

knowing that most people drop their keys close to the front door

he found the key in a dish on the hall table

seconds later he was driving away

soon arriving at an old warehouse on the edge of town

the Mercedes joined a long line of stolen high end vehicles

technicians were busy altering the vehicle identification marks

forgers were making false documentation

before daybreak all the vehicles would be inside containers heading overseas

the thief went home to catch up on his sleep

he was dreaming of cold dark nights and easy rich pickings

the exploding front door jolted him awake

agents surrounded him with weapons drawn

one of them grinned telling him he took the bait

the Mercedes was a decoy full of tracking devices and cameras

Parcopresis

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For those of you not familiar with parcopresis

It is one of those phobias that rarely gets discussed

Probably because its so personal

It is the fear of pooping in a public toilet

My own parcopresis can be traced back to my schooldays

There was constant bullying and playing tricks

Especially by the older boys on any boy’s first day at school

The teachers just pretended not to know

My school building was very old

The toilets were in a block outside 

Medieval plumbing with an open trough

Below the waste pipe of each toilet

This meant that water from the far end toilet flush

Would flow along and below all the other toilets

Giving the bullies an opportunity

To terrorize any new boy daring to go poop

For soon after he entered the stall and sat down

The bullies would start a flush from the end

And float a paper boat down that trough

Carrying flaming paper to every toilet

The poor unassuming young pooping boy

Had flames reaching up to his bare bum

His cries were met by the bullies laughter

Soon the entire school knew he had been flamed

Having witnessed that on my first day

I vowed never to poop at school

Praying that my body would bless me

With an early morning bowel movement at home

Most days my digestive rhythms obliged

On days where it did not I just held on

To this day I still try and ‘go’ every morning

It really is the best way to start the day

Just another day in the Grove

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Most mornings I write at my desk

Converting my thoughts into a poem or short story

I tried writing today and strangely had no inspiring thoughts

My desk was just not doing it for me

So I have moved outside onto the balcony

Its a very pleasant 73F here in Coconut Grove

Although most Miamians would consider it chilly

They will be wearing long pants and hoodies for sure

I am giving my brain a rest today

My eyes will direct my fingers to describe what I see

I woke to a spectacular sunrise on this winter day

The bright orange sun peeping over the buildings on Key Biscayne

The sky is now gray and the clouds are the same color as the water in the bay

Joggers are running in the park next to the sailing club

Not the super fast runners who go out super early before work

We are now at the shift change where retirees pound the pavement

Mothers with babies and small children meander slowly through the park

No doubt escaping the confines of four walls for as long as possible

Dog owners are out dragging their reluctant aging pets through the park

The energetic young dogs are pulling their reluctant senior owners over the grass

Inactive elderly dogs are pushed around in little carts

Smart phone owners seem to be taking their pet phones for a walk

A flock of noisy parakeets just flew by looking for a tree to invade

Traffic is light along S bayshore drive today

Solo cyclists speed by towards Key Biscayne on the start of a 20 mile loop

Fearless electric scooter riders stand proud as they speed along

With no helmet and just a T shirt between them and a painful road rash tumble

The garbage trucks are doing their morning rounds

Picking up yesterdays discarded remnants of condo dwellers culinary efforts

Its just another day in the Grove

Time for me to head out for my walk now

I wonder if somebody will look from a high rise condo and write about me in the park

Noise

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I grew up in a small house in England

The commuter train for Liverpool was close by

The train tracks were literally at the end of our back yard

Less than 100 feet from our home

Every time a train went by the house shook

It was so noisy you could not hold a conversation

We simply paused mid sentence

Then continued after the train had gone

Its amazing how you can get used to things

I can honestly say the train noise never bothered me

I enjoyed watching the trains go by

Looking at the sad faces of the tired commuters

Track repair trains would pass by at night

Sometimes making a lot noise fixing the rails

I looked forward to being woken by all that noise

It was exciting to see all the bright lights and banging

Occasionally the train drivers would go on strike

Often these strikes would go on for days

People would ask me if I enjoyed the silence

I never even noticed that the trains had stopped running 

Many years later I am much more sensitive to noise

I no longer live next to a train track

I usually wake up to the dawn chorus of happy singing birds

Or the gentle engine hum of a crab fishing boat on the bay

Occasional visits to a city center fill me with dread

Cars roaring by and trucks clanging along

Planes flying low overhead from the nearby airport

There is no escape from the constant background roar 

I suspect the city dwellers become immune to the noise

Drowning it out with the volume button on their TV remote

My best escape from noise is the Bose headphones

They cut out all external noise while playing my favorite music

Speed poetry test

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Fast and furious franticly flowing words

My inner voice demands to be heard

Words escape my fingers by jumping onto the keys

This poem grows on a computer screen with incredible ease

By now you should be totally hooked and smitten

As long as you read this at the same speed it was written

So sad for those who read this poem too slow

The true feeling of speed poetry they will never know

Those who failed will only pass the speed poetry critical test

When they can read aloud all ten lines in a single breath

Bad dream goes into hiding

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she woke suddenly

in a cold sweat

it was still dark

a bad dream was clinging to her

pulling and clawing her back to sleep

to continue a terrifying ordeal

she was exhausted from the escape

staring into the silent darkness 

she refused to close her eyes and surrender

the dream gave up and released his strong grip from her mind 

she vowed to remember the details

to warn others of the danger

knowing she would soon forget it all 

the dream slid away into hiding

waiting to ambush her another night

she stayed awake until sunrise

counting her breathing

listening to her heartbeat 

the soft dawn light gently bathed the room

a big yawn and stretch snapped her into the real world

climbing out of bed and walking downstairs to make breakfast

the dream saw she was distracted

dashing across her mind one last time

to steal her nocturnal memory

Five things you need in troubled times

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In troubled times

You need to have hope

A desire that things will get better

The belief that it will certainly happen

Never stop hoping

In troubled times

You need to have faith

Be confident in somebody or something strong

It might be a person or your religion

Never lose your faith

In troubled times

You need to have trust

Trust in the reliability and strength

Of somebody or something

Never give up trusting

In troubled times 

You need truth

That fundamental reality

That spiritual reality

Never stop looking for truth

In troubled times

You need a community

People who connect with you

With shared caring attributes

Never abandon your community

Its over until the next holiday feast

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The Thanksgiving feast was a severely tempting array

Plates piled high in a well arranged display

Golden turkey was the savory sight

Roast potatoes screamed their crunchy delight

Lumberjack sized planks of honey baked ham

Pour on some gravy just because you know you can

Gravy rivers winding aimlessly through the mountainous spread

Oh look there is more whispers a fake hungry voice in your head

Green bean casserole with water chestnuts ever so crispy

Broccoli drowned in melted cheese looks ever so risky

Cranberry sweetness better than a lover’s tangy kiss

Stuffing indulgence impossible to dismiss

All washed down with gallons of Beaujolais Nouveau

A kings feast served up in your very own family chateau

After a long digesting pause its time to attack the dessert

Your anesthetized stomach is unaware that this will eventually hurt

Apple pie with an oversized scoop of vanilla ice cream

Your never to be forgotten exploding sugary bomb dream

Belly surrenders to the inevitable food coma

In a few hours you awake to that familiar reheating leftovers aroma

Invisible people

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Downtown Nashville

Music city

Strolling Broadway

Cowboy hats

Fancy boots

Honkeytonk bars

Live bands

Country music

Broadcast loudly

Drinks flowing

Party central

Bar hopping

Busy streets

Bachelorette parties

Noisy groups

Fun overload

Some sadness

Homeless people

Openly begging

Every corner

Holding signs

Need food

Sad contrast

Tourists party

Alcohol flows

Endless selfies

Social media

Constant posting

Attracting tourism

Hungry homeless

Not publicized

Invisible people

Sad refection

Divided society