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a collection of poetry by julene hunter

There are no small words

Small Talk We won’t discuss the weather anymore. The clouds pass without comment. To flatter the sunlight changes nothing. It is still beautiful and then gone. It never seems enough. The world is distracted, breaking off bits of happiness measuring time on the hurried way to somewhere else.   I am standing outside the party lonely in a crowd of thoughts watching city and star light in the cool evening feeling like I’m not quite at home in the air.

I used to think the magic was there below the surface, waiting to be captured if I only knew the secret.  Now I’ve learned I was waiting for me.   When was it, I stopped being who I was and became who I am? I spent years looking at those stars, but I never could have predicted You.   Your mind is an ancient map, reluctant as the new world to show its secrets; Your thoughts as clear to read as the path to treasure drawn on faded parchment.

Warriors die dreaming bright battles. Lovers hear angels singing and dance in the light. Monarchs come and go and quiet soldiers follow always the same way today and tomorrow. We are brought to the mystery, to accept the present graciously. In a universe of vast unknown there is no difference between a man, a woman, or a fallen leaf when viewed from a million miles in space. There is great work to be done. Like a philosopher, I’ve gone back to the wind, but today the wind won’t whisper the answer waiting for me to discover tomorrow.  

Sail away with me Sail with me ore ocean tide to lands of far-away boundless time ‘neath stars above where we can simply play

In me, safe harbor you will find no tempest there can break I’ll rock you gently while you sleep And in my arms you’ll wake

Come sail with me to childhood where fertile dreams are born present, past and future meet on pathways gently worn

Oh sail with me, my love and heart Upon the endless sea as gentle waves caress our souls Unanchored we are free

Onboard our craft no world but ours christened “Love and Care” We’ll put up sail and catch the breeze And follow sunsets fair

Random Nothing is random Everything is random what is 1 Eight notes Eight colors Infinity Fibonacci’s perfect cube 2 Eight beatitudes Ashsta Sphenic The second magic number 3 Eight caulicoles in a Corinthian capital Orb weaver 4 Eight levels of consciousness Areneidae Argonauta Wisdom teeth

5 Eightfold path The Dharmachakra Oxygen Pinyin Yakumo Quaver 6 Eight Islamic Angels carry The Holy Throne Octave 7 Eight immortals Goddess Lakshmi in eight forms eight-ball 8 ecclesiastical modes eight pawns eight-bits equals byte

Is it random? Everything with mass has energy. All energy has mass? Why does my head fit perfectly in the crook of your shoulder? Is it possible mine is perfectly unique? The right amount of mass The right amount of energy Nothing is random Everything is random

Wisdom Part I I am lost. Bereft and celebratory, awkward in the measure of divine perfection grace in the discovery I am humbled.   Gone are my compass and sensibility. For if they were working, no pen could capture this.   I love you. God knows You know I surrender to it.   All the memories heavenly or temporal Of loves’ past live within us both

Maybe those before me measured love Maybe given all the time in the world we can find our path together Tolerance Temperance Time All is love No half measures  I am lost seeking truth faith guides the journey lost together             treasures to be found.  

Part II If our love is real – if it is true – then love should elevate us to be better in all things. It should amplify, not diminish our capacities over time What sheer conceit, to intuitively believe we are such a couple. Love A rare and precious gift – to receive and accept, or lay there unopened, wrapped and rife with possibilities. Or worse, to waste. If our love is real.

Part III Today someone spoke the truth but, as if, for the first time You listened    Consequences  Manifestations of self consciousness None of it real as we perceive all atomic particles Ions, protons, neutrons amorphous mass swirling about as pure energy   We should transcend all Search beyond ourselves embrace the chaos creating harmony 

Never too much drama. too much implosion explosion chaos Truth Part IV Still compromised by rules, hard-wired in the self full of silly self-aware doubt Forgive my faults. Like a poison, I brood. Somewhere, someone shares your time expecting quid pro quo making a solitary Faustian bargain.

Your past speaks when you hear words never spoken or felt by me. There is inadequacy in being human God knows All magical thinking will not make it otherwise.   All I have existing outside of any reality or time I give to you.   Loves’ apotheosis beyond temporal limits

Macaroni and Cheese


the beat like a tide in and out up and down automatic electric drum Small rhythms Pulse I am yours Please be mine a candy kiss internal eternal vital organ

clock quickening to life all of the heart break bleed song ache throb felt listen listen My heart        

Snow day Snow play Winters blanket fell today Deeper thoughts may come and go Drifting like the fallen snow Weary warrior Find your smile Come and rest in me awhile. The chill weighs heavy every limb a silent frozen requiem Snow day Snow play Why have you gone away?

Our Bedroom

in time sweet orange blossom and salty brine marry in the breeze eternally caressing invisible spaces awaken senses transforming every breath of life   in time the weight of his body upon her echoes infinite rhythms two lost souls seeking the divine love incarnate proving the poets’ words   in time heavy laden by mortal cares, then parted by will no longer naked in the garden short selling weeping giants and angels sigh  

in time the impossible distills in dream; reason is rendered obsolete paradise lost; found in the sacrifice pure energy promising return as the light of dawn in time at the window of the world, curtains billow to point to the unseen for those who would see without eyes sacred space cherishing all that is heaven    


Waking from a peaceful night, eyelids heavy with slumber, to find his head nestled in the soft flesh that covers my womb.   He has found my sacred space.   His generous hand cupping me the other, tucked in the small of my back. I lay soft and gentle. I am his cradle.   Bathed in warmth, the gift of Grace has found us again.   He hums and sighs. Groggy and tasting the morning, the rise and fall of every breathe, is peaceful resonance.   This has always been our lullaby.

I run my fingers through his crown, memorizing the terrain by touch the silken waves fall carelessly shining in the sharp light.   Careful not to disturb this simple moment divine.   His legs entwine with mine. Gently I writhe under the mortal weight that anchors me to this world.   In the gentle fog between slumber and sense.   We are high above ourselves No words, all knowing, beyond time, two souls free in the pleasure.   Delight and wonder in the flight.  


A reflection on the words of Emily Dickenson. All from different poems, with only a few words by me.

Wild nights—Wild nights! Morning without you is a dwindled dawn. Not knowing when the dawn will come, I  open every door.

For there are Wild nights to be remembered a Secret Lover, a purloined valentine inviting a meeting at sunrise, or sunset, or the new moon. All   past. She wrote. Forever is composed of nows That it will never come again is what makes life sweet.   So, dwell in possibility. Love is life,  and life hath immortality. 

Love is immortality. Love sets the soul free.   The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience. Such sweet skepticism  believing what we don’t believe  does not exhilarate.   All future lives in hope.   Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all   Did you hear my song? Saying nothing... sometimes says the most. I am nobody. Who are you? Tell me and waste no more time, for I am here now.  

Homage to Emily

The sweetness of the air, full of lyric and fresh flower,  a babbling brook where birds alight to drink,  this moment -- never to be again, makes shadow tremble.     Her secret, hidden in the heart, like a lover never rests Giving a little draught of life, enough to quench not satisfy Nobody knew, so still, that a brook was hidden there.     Beware then March, when the banks overflow,          The rivers swell, the snow melts and tears fall from above So heavy the force, a bridge is broken, peace swept away.    Futile the wind, to chill the secret heart, as summer sun makes parched meadow cry, it will green again For this little brook of life in her – will not run dry.

What I don’t know I am not mean. If you knew me you would know this as a certainty. But I am direct. And protective And confused And maybe too literal   To those lacking curiousity, dismissive. Posing a challenge.   Easily bored, brash, vivacious and irritatingly optimistic against all odds.  

Seeking greater wisdom, patience for all human weakness and trying to understand everything. Finally, always Thinking. Wouldn’t a poem, so unexpected, cause wonder?   If I knew better I wouldn’t have to ask, knowing with all my heart What Is.   But I don’t know. I am not sure. Does anyone know? Not just a question.  

In poem – the voice out of body, clearly feminine, Are you speaking to yourself? A woman with a fantasy trying to entice a man too busy to engage   I know this woman. This man This fantasy Desire   Is this imagined or real? No harm No shock No judgment  

Is it Guileless Inquisitive Provocative? Retelling history Inventing Purging Sharing?   Does it just flow like water in a brook from a pure source?   And once born, all poems live independently. Free and without boundaries.  

The mind, the fountain of possibility, the womb you were denied, a parallel universe I only know you as I know me and what we share is our revelation   Help me decipher keep the secret but share the key to wonder.

Hearing in Silence Cradled in my lap kneading tension from your brow ageless frank incense life rhythm and sweet scent dance How do I help you? World weary monk ancient warrior for truth weapons at the ready past and future align How do I know you? Crusades, secrets, silence brew solitary elixir enemy time and distance the grail so near

How do I love you? Rest now and be easy focus the quest safe in my touch hearing god in the silence sharing a dream, come home. Come home. fini

Profile for julene hunter

Small Talk - a collection of poems  

poetry collection by Julene Hunter

Small Talk - a collection of poems  

poetry collection by Julene Hunter