The Fires We Burn

I remember when I was a kid in the city

thought I had somehow stemmed the fire

that sense of an evident outlier mentality

haunted my mind forever life on a wire.

~

I began to age with a sense of forgiveness

for all those around me I might have hurt.

The person I always managed a swift miss,

my personality, like an old stain on my shirt.

~

I wanted only to live a life of some perchance

sense of wander that held creative lines

the sort we plead may always carry reliance,

even when times are tough, quiet whines.

~

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

I held my own in any audience though always brief

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

~

So I took to new travels only never leaving my mind

I could always find a way to survive the night

leaving behind all of the baggage I’d lest remind

if wanting to go forward with a living life I might.

~

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

I held my own in any audience though always brief

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

~

I wanted to find some new sort of glass of water

the one that didn’t ever contain a needy filter

~

I held my own in any audience though always brief.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

I Wish You Could Hear Me

Sometimes I try to find the right word

it’s like picking stars out of the sky,

I find myself wondering how absurd

it is to constantly be asking why.

~

She told me the truth of how she felt

I wouldn’t listen, she could only resist

There’s a sweet smile makes me melt

Instead of knowing, I would then insist

~

Sometimes late at night I have tears

I cannot figure out just this alone

away from the we without any fears,

need to find the together we had sown.

~

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love.

I felt all the stars in the sky speaking above.

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love.

All the words spoke nothing more about love.

~

I can feel her resistance and I cannot hear

words of denial when all I want is her

I stammer and stutter in my mind I fear

I’ve lost everything so evident I am sure.

~

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love

The other day I stopped yearning the truth in love.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

The Library

Here’s a song* I wrote for a dear friend – I’m sharing the lyrics with my readers:

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Many years pass and then we’re together

holding hands, we’re laughing again.

I remember a special reminder,

my laughter felt real back then.

~

You remind me of a time so lovely

your sweet elegance is what makes it happen

Any man would feel loved in your eyes

I know because – that was my when

~

I stand now alone in a wander

hoping somehow, someday you might see.

My heart aches, my soul wants to wonder

Someday, somehow we find our sea.

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me.

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Hoping somehow, someday you might see,

could we someday find our sea.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

*I attended a song-writing camp last week that might have changed the direction of my life. I’ve wanted to translate my poetry into song for years, and I tasted that at this workshop. Now I have to learn how to play the guitar!

In the actual recording I am borrowing completely from Tom Petty’s instrumental genius on the acoustic guitar.

Relentless Passion

In hers a quiet world would she live

Each morning routine an evening of peace.

Sunrise walks with only love to give

a family, her children, her silent release.

~

His would be a need for truth in her

struggle to be she asked, a simple life

Not this constant caressing a trigger

shoot holes in her wall, cut like a knife.

~

She would her bootstraps always taut

a world of indifference, a learned trait,

one person is love, another still taught,

feel respect, to watch, might she create.

~

His was soon to be a battle in his mind

hers a simple ask me to live alone

causing him to feel this constant bind

to know quick, dynamics already known.

~

Would she, could she, soon enough relent

His own idealism she wanted to prevent.


©️ Thom Amundsen 7/2021

The Rains

I sat with a desk lamp nearby

listening to the rains,

I knew clearly the reason why

this forest maintains

~

such wonderful animations in the mind,

a forest may the soul in peace unwind.

~

Earlier in the afternoon sunlight

before the setting of dusk,

I watched the clouds in plumes might

settle into a natural melodic busk.

~

I listened to the rains and next the tears

would speak quiet to my mind

wishing only might I ever quell fears

shook her away to rewind

~

Yet I couldn’t help but wish such beauty

might hold promise to love

as would the sound of rains serenely

slicing through the skies above…

~

Such wonderful animations in the mind

a forest may the soul in peace unwind.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021 

Remember Once

There was this book-bag


seemed to hold a truth


some passionate memory


like a one


I could be there I


felt you near me


wanting only your love


and your shared eyes


ours together


we could cry and still


know the truth

~

My path is my own


I am happy to share as long


as you wish to know me


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Last Spoken

When while every moment of life speaks

with the echo of nature,

some choose a concrete sentiment.

Is it possible to know last words

perhaps spill similar sound.

~

I wanted to say every moment meant

the exact opposite of what remains,

yet, the words, the voice, our own

struggle to be the immediate in

what we might believe,

would not allow any reveal,

we did, I did, squandered away

such is this momentum to relive.

~

Now will be a slow silence,

forever quiet with resolve …

ambling, fading into the summer sky,

when a melody speaks aloud

its strength is less,

like some lost memory we

no longer find to be anything

ever so important as it once

maybe one time held before.

~

I could not be capable of compassion

if meaning were a facade in my mind.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Solace Undefined

One of my favorite words might be overused,

less important to you

even if spoken in the nature of

you.

Could we ever really give final definition

to the thoughts we realize

are sometimes a notion

in our mind.

I would sit here all day long only to offer

her a moment of quiet peace

in her silence

her own space.

If every time I would suggest I want only

to offer you a moment of silence,

that feeling of abandon

without loss.

I once sat by a lake and as waters rippled,

my tears did flow, a sort of God moment

actually it was that moment,

and my tears did fall.

Wonder with me what is the simple act

of sight, of knowing, of feeling

where our bodies become

an artistry of love.


© Thom Amundsen  7/2021

Changing Paths – I Still Do

We all know what we believe

in the moment

as we breathe the air around us

would our lives begin to rush

beyond the truth of

what is love,

what lays within our heart,

how does the soul feel sweet reckoning.

~

I have experience in the truth of

changing paths

listened to fear

tried to understand reasoning

when even so, there is one person involved

in the mindset of two,

there is the quandary between me and you.

~

Your fear of changing my path,

if you study the real

then might you possibly feel the beauty

of one’s sacrifice to know life with the other,

to completely give ourselves

to one another.

~

I did love you, and I was willing to go anywhere

your desire would wish enhance our passion.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021