Summer’s Wonder

In simple minutes I was drawn to you,

a walk, a stroll – complimentary blue.

If told to find the cloud in this sweet sky,

One might imagine naysayers do cry.

Soak in an energy drives home our soul

Believe in the elegance in a summer whole.

I do dance in the steaming heat of victory,

to know that Grace offers my humanity.

Oh to wonder the how and why of a universal

atmosphere we could stand to embrace all

A Farewell Plea

If the world turn suddenly brilliant with fire,

what would be the response, a natural desire.

if in armageddon we are selectively defined,

what matters the moments where we wined.

 

While we imagine buildings collapse, lives lost

in this magical spectacle of an embryonic frost,

is the notions of survival even an able cause

when with certainty our lives bely natural laws.

 

There is the element of human nature in us all,

we strive to be real, to connect, to stand tall,

in the midst of turmoil, sadness, a chronic display

of gratitude only arrives when it is judgment day.

 

If that be true, perhaps every moment is a lease,

Oh to recognize the greater value of global peace.

The Sitting Hours

I always looked forward to the late hours,

the night flying by with dialogue and absurdities,

everything we could say we believed, and more importantly,

we loved,

We did delight in knowing we could look in each other’s eyes,

well into the twilight,

all of us, whoever might have chosen the time,

or simply allowed ourselves to be drawn in,

that was the key,

we knew always we wanted to be there.

 

These are the holidays we would request

each other’s company,

my sister, brothers, and mom,

our sister’s, children and the occasion of relatives …

so current on everything we knew.

to be important in everyone’s lives.

With dad in the background, an occasional chuckle,

he’d pass out the a beverage with endearing blue eyes,

we all heard his screams inside,

the delight of our lives, he is a beautiful man.

 

We were, are, can be the beautiful people,

the family that smiles, tells jokes, lives lives with uncanny candor.

These are the nights when time would value,

only the shared nostalgia of wanting the laughs

in the history of our lives.

These are the holidays when love does always,

compete well with the nature of our own,

sweet recall, when the essence of everything we believed,

in the realm of the human condition,

could suddenly find the energy

to contribute the next line,

so the stories never found a way to end …

When Yesterday

When we start to think about

our yesterdays,

we get scared, well some, me, suppose

the words need only be self-directed,

if validity

is the goal of my game.

 

I contemplate my day before notions,

those of consequence and reward,

I try to recall the best, when especially drawn

into the abyss of the mess.

 

A hundred years ago, my embellishment

landed me in places I couldn’t defend,

only wished I had found a way to mend

the indifference,

self-righteous patterns of wanting everything,

my way, my game, my gamble, my favorite

addiction.

 

I lost at every step, remembering when leaving

fearing skid row might be my home address

in six weeks or less,

less the confidence, less the support,

lest I drag my ass out of the gutter and realize

there is a life ahead.

 

However, there is always the readiness,

not choice by personal desire,

but the savior whomever that might be in our lives,

the one and only,

Grace,

the epitome of letting go,

realizing we cannot, and will never need to do this on our own,

alone.

 

Yet today, I do think about my yesterdays,

and wonder if I might ever step away,

to enjoy the beauty of this,

namaste.

 

Lost Generation

I Traveled Back in Time

forest

It felt good to say hello to all of them,

The flowers were in crisp spring bloom,

The fields swayed with more romance than I recall,

I remember the gravel road,

The swing rope, and the river pool, just for you,

There was a single cow liked to moo.

 

Last night I visited my childhood,

Through John’s steady croons,

I was walking with him in the county library,

I remember I felt emotions, love,

There was a certain peace that went with friends.

It was the 60’s and we all listened,

 

To each other, much less than we did the Man,

That societal icon that disturbed our land.

Whenever I want to dream,

It is the gravel road, forest deep,

My walk is forever, yet it’s serene,

I know there is certain beauty, Grace in tree-lines.

 

When I was only a child, I grew up in sadness,

There were losses and turbulent times,

I really didn’t understand,

But the people around me did,

So I listened, I watched, I imagined,

And later in life I hoped I could remember when.

 

It felt good to say hello to all of them,

I traveled back in time, I remember when.

© Thom Amundsen 2017

Turning Toward Time

dali

Dali

 

When we race for that which we embrace,

the notion of our lives seems to last forever,

its when we let go, step off, rearrange, justify,

we lose sight upon what is the actual time.

 

I know this person,

they’ll go unnamed,

could touch a heart

suggest a part …

 

We do forget quickly from where we came,

having built roadblocks, walls, pervasive fears,

instead of understanding,

we’d quickly run away, face the danger another day.

 

It pisses me off that occasionally I might say a word,

then later have it used against my desires rather than the listener

understanding all my meaning is for their own

peace of mind.

 

The race against having all the time in the world,

so easily lost in the battle of knowledge of truth.

The Soft, Delicious, Natural Mystique of The Rains

If I can stand in the water pouring across my sky,

I feel the beauty of nature, yet this is peace,

I am soft with my notions today,

without pain, the quiet release is cleansing.

 

Yet, as these words do in a manner please me,

I am saddened by the reality of the south,

there is a certain mystery in how much is little,

how little is the reminder of our vulnerability.

 

I do pray for the suffering souls whose eyes glance

upward with confusion, praying for the rains

to allow their lives to continue forward beyond the

deluge of God’s mystery in this reckoning.

 

I will while slumber in the peaceful nature of my world

imagine an energy to save the hurting reminders of time.