Capture My Mood

Tell me how you’re going to feel

the next time you touch my soul

~

We could be friends forever

organize a press release

sounds poetic, a tad eacer

someone, we keep the peace

~

There was this one afternoon

we spoke of our adventure

shipwrecked we might maroon

our lives, this our forever.

~

Tell me how you’re going to feel

the next time you touch my soul.

Tell me how you’re going to feel

the next time you touch my soul.

~

When the walls began to cave

ought we have better understood

the freedom to love and save

seemed trite and rather screwed.

~

Stand inside the balance

and feel some sacrifice

Stand inside with chance

the love, your favorite vice

~

Tell me how your going to feel

the next time you touch my soul.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Spontaneity In Crisis

Well it’s the tears really,

come out of nowhere,

set me in stone clearly

don’t want to live there.

~

Watching a television show

a melodramatic morning

in any mundane episode I go

tearing up and mourning.

~

Tearing up and mourning,

haven’t any idea what it might

mean, why it is this warning,

get my act together before night

~

fall, this constant departure

this need to somehow navigate.

My emotions are raw for sure

I wish I might sometimes relate.

~

Motives and opportunities

pass me by not out of reach

my own sadly, feigned scrutinies

are nothing the world will teach.

~

Have to find a way out of this dream.

Have to find a way out of this dream.

Spontaneity holds so much promise,

Have to find a way out of this dream.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Serendipity Is Love

Would that we might dance the night away

When once out of reach, our love found its way

If were to measure all the pain and suffering

Could not surpass, such is beauty our yearning.

~

Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat

A solo venture that would evade defeat

Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat

Could we imagine such wonder our feat.

~

Now today there is memory, if the river walk

Across town we recall, a stroll, Isle of Fern

Red chairs and a gas fire pit, bolted, we’d talk

Memories pain the soul, hearts fear every turn.

~

I lived in this town for almost half my life

She did hers forever, and made it her life.

I would, I cannot recall a softer shade of blue

When one day for now I knew I was losing you.

~

Such a blessing it is to feel we are finally in love

When all the days, our lives, wander the stars above

Such is still that blessing when now the miles are long

When once counted upon, now the eyes cannot belong.

~

Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets

Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets


© Thom Amundsen 9/2/2021

The Lives We Lead

I turned a corner the other day, received some applause.

Remember imagining there was not anything in our way

when now we give in to our ideals, this harmonic pause

we could only stand alone remembering, day after day.

~

There was a dance floor in town where everybody showed

their moves, their needs, their wants, their satisfying eyes

it was there on Saturday nights when everybody glowed

yet there we were dancing, quieting our fear in disguise.

~

When did we become what our parents all might dream

that someday our hearts would carry a soul in our hands

When did we become what our parents all might dream

For it is always true we live out the memory love demands

~

It is hard to trace the steps, the Jitterbug we all remember

an onset of adult life motions, we created dance together.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

He Stood On Memory

Can you sing me a song like they do on the radio?

the kind leaves the kids smiling in their beds.

Can you sing me a song like they do on the radio?

The kind leaves the kids smiling in their beds.

~

I remember when I was only a child in the summertime

listening to the old top 40’s and the detective shows

there still seemed to be some room for the sublime

nature of humanity with compassion for all of those.

~

We listened to the radio, watched mama by our bedside

singing songs, writing love stories, giving kisses

always knowing dad was nearby with cigar as a side

creating novelty in normalcy while society misses.

~

I was asking God one night, late with a full moon outside

could it be real that we have a reason to be in here

this seemingly large crystal ball of wonderment untried

Are we all part of a whole we cannot forever adhere?

~

Can you sing me a song like they do on the radio?

the kind leaves the kids smiling in their beds.

Can you sing me a song like they do on the radio?

The kind leaves the kids smiling in their beds.

~

Well isn’t it memory then screams our name in the twilight

Isn’t a full moon some reminder or a mystique in the night.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Once Did Love

Spoke to him the idle man

now sits alone a bar stool

seems becomes his friend.

All the others know the fool.

~

Once inside were a sweet dream,

a violin concerto plays his memory

soft her smile, serene did seem

a minute, together a forever melody.

~

If only then had he known today

might she have weathered the storm

ahead sensing his unraveling way.

Without explanation he lost form.

~

With no one looking the fool might cry

For then more simply it is a time to die.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Three Lives

If we could shape our world

those lives we

learned we might,

imagined we could,

promised we would

all three blends of a sensuality

cascading our mind like a summer rain

sweet, scented, soaking serendipity.

Three lives

if we could shape desire and promise

might we all understand

we can overwhelm

the mystique … our human mind.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Wanting to Listen

Standing alone damp concrete

was like my ear finding center if only

could I hear a word

a sweet memory a recall

somehow now some way

buried in that sea of indecision.

~

If when I close my eyes I see her standing

there in the shadows of a booth

miles away

close enough to feel her eyes

watching me wonder her

years later

standing alone together we might hear

that soothing melody.

~

I know a woman wants

to be

alone

just you and me return again

in dreams

we haven’t quite found

we understand just you and me.

~

I am still working on listening

just takes a while longer … this we.


©️ Thom Amundsen 5/2021

3 AM

lights low,

what’s happening in here

no one might ever know.

The cast of a dozen stories

one day to the next,

perhaps a romance again.

Seems easy to dream

when the lover is alone

hopeful she might understand.

Its 3 am blues are alive

waiting alone to feel

some fatigue beyond the daily drain.

A couple of movies later

sleep still stays in seclusion

his mind a travel beyond the real.

Play some blues he asked

and let the melody

take his reacting mind away again.

It’s 3 am and he really doesn’t

care about the morning,

as long as the words speak

as I am.


© Thom Amundsen 4/2021

Wishful Knowledge

Those times told before

when once it happens

comes the sigh.

It’s that wish of only

‘getting it’

knowing we all had it.

Only now a reminder gave us

‘silent scolding’

telling our own selves

we ought know.

The end result

manifest in our own hearts

when asked again and in a long-awaited,

again.

In the beginning …


©️ Thom Amundsen 4/2021

– to k