A Working Man

I am a working man,

with a verve, passion, a concept

of what I feel is right

in the vocation that I am.

 

I need to see the might

of quickly drawn out ideals

that give me inspiration,

capture a full moon at night.

 

I watched her drive away

her smile was something to hold

wondering then what happened

to the silence of today.

 

This isn’t who we imagine,

the working man in his day,

has thoughts of some reaction

speak to personal, my chagrin

 

I am a steadfast human being,

drawn by a mechanical means

I cannot step away from love,

a sordid state of wooing.

 

She walked away from a life we knew,

and then ironic, so did she.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2020

I Wonder About Love

Oh it is true the feeling you might have,

the moment the mention,

the imagined response to knowing,

wanting, having, believing, sharing,

all the keywords that could be eternal,

always an option,

for it was told,

we could often recall,

the word, the name, the title,

the option,

… and yet we always do somehow return.

 

I will always remember

when being told,

the actions will speak from afar,

only if I might allow hesitation

to surround my being,

to create an obstacle toward

seeing

there is a certain Truth

to believing.

 

Yet I always return,

whenever the feeling seems right,

there a door opens,

and I do choose to walk,

walk right in,

answer the call,

remind myself of the

the, of the,

of Thee

bigger picture

beyond the wall.

 

I wonder if it is all so simple,

I do often try to recall.

To Know The Right Way

Oh, to go beyond the grasp,

the tangles that keep reminders alive,

there is the mystery of the mind,

what to turn off, what to feed, what to settle in,

so that moving forward seems a reliable

resolve to the repudiating repulsion of time.

 

Yes, without speaking in tangible terms,

leave it to the eyes to interpret,

disclose, determine in words,

what shall be thought to reserve judgment.

 

When standing on the street,

look into a man’s eyes,

is he relaxed, skeptical, terrible

in this seeming expression on a hot summer day.

 

While sitting in a local cafe,

she buried her face in paperwork,

a bomb goes off nearby and she doesn’t twitch,

for in our world we don’t feel explosions,

we only create war inside our brain,

that is the place we store the fuse, the powder keg,

the nuclear option to saving grace.

 

Oh, the notions of moving forward,

to know the right words,

to recognize complete action,

beyond simple presumptuous fiction.

How can a world determine,

peace,

when locked into the tenets of this

seemingly societal scrutiny,

makes allowances,

to suggest the human condition,

is flawed.

In Shadows

images

Where my reality lives, I sometimes never know,

depends upon the breathing,

a slight rasp might mean finding an edge,

a smooth inhale is the sign of reaching an end.

I do know though,

when I glance to my side,

in a sunlit morning, I can see myself,

that part of me no one might ever understand,

yet it contains me,

all of me beyond the physical attributes,

that sometime do define who I am.

 

I like to hide from him,

as much as possible because the possibilities are endless

when I go about thinking all the mistakes he contains,

when the brilliance of my mind let’s loose,

and there is no where to turn except to jump in,

wait it out until sunset, at least then I might disappear.

 

I wish there might be the occasion when in a fleeting moment of forgetfulness,

he could gesture an implied consent,

a suggestive attribute of worthiness,

yet instead,

he lingers, waiting, watching, knowing,

what it is I might be wondering.

 

* photo found on Pinterest

When Reality Speaks

While we stood in line, the visions we imagine,

continue on their way, uninterrupted,

cold to the touch in manner of sensitive good.

~

Shelter the soul of the hurt and desperate ideal

in the order of humanity’s mortality

we could find distraction to be our nemesis.

~

Witness the truth of the vulnerable soulful man,

while life clicks on in pace,

we haven’t discovered a solution to death.

~

In family there is the escalation of delightful

peace, the respect of inevitable time,

that which decides our strength to survive.

~

Yet still we do sit in wait, in helpless purgatory,

knowing that there is that reality,

that certain choice we haven’t any clarity.

~

Beyond the notion of the here and now,

there is a peace, we must embrace with love.

Knocking On Doors

I choose to navigate the open walkways,

a common thread

similarities in typical days

places I dread.

I wonder sometimes about certain choice

if we might know

just why it is we find the time to rejoice,

however swift hearts grow.

When a decision in retrospect is made

we sometime slow realize

that memory that conscience forbade,

will leave our wonder wise.

When a lift in melody caught sweet attention

the very source of gallantry

spoke aloud with strong desire to love, mention

in all its chivalry.

Welcome the moon in familiar tonight’s pattern

while the sky awaits morning light

a beautiful life we swift acknowledge in turn

when covering shadows in the night.

When only the naked mind is given allowance

In simple virtue our humanity’s bliss is chance.

If I Told You …

A long time ago I recall

I wasn’t so very tall

While the world passed

me by I felt I might ask

~

Do we all walk around

while similarly frowned

upon by those the others,

‘Oh if I had my druthers’

~

I’ve looked for a spaceship

traveling alone in silent slip

yet the skies always remain

a singular thoughtful domain

~

I might suggest a newer route

one chock full with little doubt

I wanted only to know a way

to find happiness in a day.

~

While the world does truly pass me by

I wonder when it is I might finally ask why