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Best Poems Written by Keith O.J. Hunt

Below are the all-time best Keith O.J. Hunt poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

The Widow Among Roses

The widow among roses,
though a scent so sweet 
she smells to near smile,
how red the vibrance of life
and soft the petals caress
her lonely cheek,
she remembers her love lost
(her left eye a tombstone glass)
and seizes not to yearn it back ---

The Blacklady among crimson;
her desert rains evermore night and day,
and still the dunes of her heart soak not with love,
the arrid wind still shoots the sand 
through her wasteland unbetrothed,
where the sun never rises,
nor never beautifully it sets 
through her tombstone eye

She walks the night dressed in white,
her wedding gown a sight for ghosts
and phantoms do fright;
they cannot haunt ---
this foot-in-the-grave-soul,
glowing white-red howling at the moon

To true midnite her feet carries her so,
where the river rushes reflecting 
forever moon glow

Where the nymph and sylph and dryad never go,
whispering and wondering ---
gazing to this lady alone,
this poor begotten thing ---
this shadow unto death,
who filled with eternal tears
(seated in some unknown place)
her nose in roses, and her mind always in the past
(grieving life) 
and mourning some faceless man


*** Inspired from a friend's mother, who at the age
of 40 --- all but gave up on life at the death of her
husband, which deeply saddened me ***

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

The Love Letter

My dear, 

   I shall meet thee in the summer of thy heart,

   where we once walked head to each 

   elegant upon the world....


And had not a care but for little winds of love

   winking there in the dreams of trees,

   laying upon me to so delicately,

   tickle with your autumn hair,

   always so soap-scented you


Touch me where I had not known

   the ease of such wonder in your eyes,

   splendor only for a great king ----

   but I a hopeless romantic muse,

   with little empty pockets blessed

   with thy precious petal,

   am richer than any lord!


I shall wait for thee in our golden glade,

   the heart which flows the waterfall....
   
   by the dawn of your sweet embrace,

   in the summer of thy heart,

   I shall wait....

   (Love, K)

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

Grey Wind

**Dedicated to those who preceded us and gave their blood, sweat and tears, so we can have the luxuries they could not**


The wind whispers, the wind whispers ----
   the wind spreads her wings,
   so all can sing her lonesome tune;

An old wind blows, older names gust
   and whirl and chime,
   remind those unfinished pacts of days gone by,
   plea they deep in the night
   when the arbor grates the house...

The withered barn is grey to dark
   and the yard chasing with ghosts;
   whisper in wind of forgotten oaths,
   to freedom in day when sun is high,
   justice takes pleasure even in shadowed realms,
   even the gales cease their roar and great wars die
   and the end shall end anew;

What in the wind, with tethered and sleepy heads,
   do they ask, do they plead
   and have us do?

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

The Thunder Kings

The rains had come and washed away the old world,
the thunder had banged its drum
with a weary warning ---
' I do not come oft, but I return and weep
and growl a lion's roar ' ---
I will for a brief moment be as a child
and fear again...
the cracks and booms rouse my guilt,
Telemachus would say the gods were going mad...

There is something 'neath the earnest 
thunder-drums which bangs
something-wicked-this-way-comes ---
and fades,
gently rolling away like a sonic carpet

Its change I welcome,
and fear,
and wonder if I was afraid at all,
wonder what deathly grip may one day come ---
suddenly,
or love may guide me through its tumult,
and dark valleys,
with flowers blooming 'neath my faithful feet;
and though I was once afraid
like a boyhood fear ---
startled from my very boots,
I shall miss my old friend thunder,
who reminds I'm quite alive,
and survived I have,
his treacherous thunderclaps,
and his sneaky ways,
my great trickster
(Thunder!)

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

To Sleep

'O dreamy night 
  with wandering eyes
  you could not lie to me;
  deceive the drifts of snow
  with crystal glitter...

Like tender downs in a midnite hour
Not a stirring soul but I in thy amphitheatre
  this white night
  where backyard chairs nestle snow-cakes
  and the maple arbors
  soft with wind shadows...
  make my eyes wide with sleep

The sheep are calling in the stardust...
  and from moonbeams
  this muse must fade...



***I wrote this poem a few winters ago, but
I find it soothing to post this hot summer***

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

I Believe

I believe we are all family....
  and golden
  and our souls (are One)
  with starlight

I believe in the love in your eyes(all)
  as oceans blue, brown, black and green
  infinite with immortality

I believe the children come first ---
  and we should leave them when we go
  (with greater hope than our own)

I believe we can end all wars
  and starvation
  and folly long in the tooth ---
  and have the very first democracy
  (without capitalism gone awry)

I believe the world longs for peace,
  but there are too many ass*@#es! ---
  to make a difference

I believe in reincarnation
  for only one man got it right with one try
  
I believe in heaven
  because this world ain't enough

I believe in the truth 
  which is the greatest teacher
  with love as its motivation

I believe in authentic freedom
  and not the chains of illusion

I believe in Jesus
  because he is devotion itself

I believe in God
  (I believe in you)

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

Mist On the Barrows

***Dedicated to a wise old man 
I once knew***
-----" There is no such thing
        as death..." 
                  ------ an old friend 


'O desolate wasteland,
filled not with flowery rushes,
threshing green fields silted,
earthy and ether months;
there can be no solstice,
no progress ----
where the tides are naught

The barrows long for life,
the painter's easel and stroke;
yet not even rainbow shadow
could colors so evoke,
life into thy nostrils -----
English barrow grave;
the dead are not there.....
Saxon King no more.....

Though they are not gone,
for very long;
our hearts be all we have,
among memories,
tides, and song

So do they hearken

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

Haiku To Heaven

It's all about.....
shedding one's skin,
and revealing the heart 
(within)

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

A Swans Return

Grace had floated royal 
among the sweet summered months,
and not a moment had passed
without the nectar of love;

Three feathered lords so fledgling
white-black,
sleeping white at noon,
'neath arbors brawn....
where the nestles are soft with love,
and dream to host all the world watching;
from horizon's scarlet painting pink
the billowed white hues ---
and black-purple from the Lord's smile

What crimson disguise five plumed hearts
beating as one,
return again o'er Swan Lake,
or with eternal love thy cherubin ponds;
with fountains swooning infinite grace 
then they are gone.....
to privy their existence made,
sleeping black at night 
('neath the gaze of tomorrow's moon)
the future brim with wind....
elder wings at dawn,
unto valor in evening's song,
fain to life again....
(flight of thy Royal Swan)


***Dedicated to the black swan and Queen's royal
swans of Ottawa***

Details | Keith O.J. Hunt Poem

Of Ladies and Lords

He walked with her a good mile
and talked with increasing smile,
with wonder he sat,
for the gladness in her heart;
...spent her days with wild hope ---
that he was in her eldest dreams,
from the beginning smote her monsters
and eased her deepest fears...

Now he rode with her again on his great white steed,
'til the edge of some mystic dusk;
and turn they could though too darkling
the winnowed wood, and chasing with shadows
the misted nite path, and she finally bade him
and his hidden forest hideaway;
so quaint and annointed with its little beds,
and bruin skins 'ere the hearth
and lordly portraits above its mantel;
and he lit it alive with warmth,
and the moon had come swift through the garland window

And in her hand he thrust the dearest of wine,
with nectar lush for a goddess, 
and dearer her heart for him more they dined;
yet he pressed no closer ---
and gazed delicately glancing her bosom,
remained mostly her lunar eyes...
and bade her a fine warm shawl ---

But the wine and fire...his eyes...
his eyes upon her though brief ---
stroked her where they fell,
and smiling she was longing his lips,
but caught her lust...
her heart! she could hear it drumming desperate

" I am almost too warm for your fine shawl..."
" Too warm? " said the lord ---
" no wine could simmer so, and the fireplace
too slight for such heat... your eyes undress me... "

And no nite they had ended...
nor any morning come betwixt them,
(but a kingdom of love in some forest green)