This Little Man

He exists only in some plan

a diversion of mine and hers

we are lost in our own hearts

one simple flare of the Man.

~

Seems there can be a truth,

we listen, bear our hearts

without worry of wrath, imparts

a cycle of hurt so very uncouth.

~

If in God’s eyes he train the mind

to live on its own accord, afford

our lives to bury the sword.

Live with love is our humankind.

~

How do we know to forget

or is a stored energy we play

for the autumn is nearer today

fears that stubborn scorn let.

~

Let them lift their bodies cold

find a sweet warmth spoken

a slow and harmonic plan

will lives to share love so bold.

~

Once while observe the moon a crescent

without the whole she could not be present.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Sifting Through Fear

A candle burns nearby

a reminder of some peace of mind,

tranquil is the flame

out of the corner of his eye.

Speaker beware,

someone might reveal,

their reveal,

that word causes headaches in some circles,

those afraid to look in the

mirror.

© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Because It Never Is Real

Until the weeping eyes are visible

we can’t really know the pain,

when everything seems possible,

instead we lose our train

of thought,

so frought

we fought,

when ought

either one of us might instead,

recognize there is no realistic

time on love that wasn’t wasted

because we’d rather be frantic.

this security

a certain witty

banter is shitty

when only pretty

memories seem our last resort

because it never is real

our lasting hoping is out of sort

because it never is real,

until one day its all gone and we think it a pity

this casting shadow of hope’s lost serendipity.

this casting shadow of hope’s lost serendipity

this casting shadow of …

hope’s lost serendipity.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

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

The Perils of a Run

I think I watched her run for years. It was not the sort of get away to which people become accustomed. She is someone that pushes life at a rapid rate. She is a person who believes this in a most ardent manner, that we need be strong, always. This persona attracted me to her when we were young adults.

So one day after years of imagining I asked if I might go for a run. She graciously invited me into her world for an exploration of who we might be at this stage of our lives. I felt like I was always trying to catch up, but happily so, I wouldn’t choose it any other way.

When I first began the run I tried to look composed and be as natural in form as she. She was so ahead of the game, I felt honored that she would even give me the time of day. She taught me quite a lot in those early weeks of our run. How to dress, how to live my life in a manner that looked and appeared put together, a reality I had let go of decades earlier. I grew to rely upon her judgment every step of the way. I trusted her skills.

In a short time we were stride for stride covering a lot of ground and our pace quickened with every step. I remember several occasions catching each other’s eyes with a little shock of our speed, realizing gradually we might trip if we didn’t stay focused upon the terrain ahead. As life would have it there are always trails and paths of uneven grade and mastering these levels is part of the beauty of challenging nature’s course together.

We discovered a new balance in our lives that seemed invigorating and we remarked at how wonderful this run had become supporting one another throughout each new journey ahead. We moved so fast though that one day rather than one another’s eyes we looked too closely into the sun, and our vision blinded, steps became unsure. We began to analyze the other side of our run, where in the beginning we loved to expound upon the balance, leaving confusion and insecurity behind. Naturally as life would have it, we became self-aware of recognizing adversity in the knees, the joints and muscles that need tendering in any enduring challenge. The body, can be consumed in a good run, but the mind might handle only so much.

I remember the time I sort of stutter stepped and glanced my hand upon her shoulder for balance, throwing off her cadence and my own. She regained her rhythm and I now fell behind a bit, but she stayed close allowing me to find again my composure. My energy gave her a smile and we immediately thought about the idiosyncratic nature of life and how sudden movement even on a forest path might give our bodies pause, a desire to catch up. I often wonder if I had noticed with more clarity early on what remains vivid in my mind today. I didn’t have to be stride for stride. I could have eased back providing her some space on the road to carry on her will. Such understanding might have kept us both running toward a beautiful horizon that lay ahead.

I stumbled again. This time I reached out with both hands landing on her shoulders hoping to maintain my stride, but letting my foot step upon hers and in a sudden tangle our bodies intertwined, we tumbled upon the soft mossy terrain of a country path. We rolled apart and looked for one another’s eyes, and now too much fear had enveloped us both and we glanced askance of one another trying to figure out how to start again. We decided to wait until the next day.

Increasingly, as we tried to continue our runs, the equilibrium began to slowly break apart, and my reliance upon her grew more and more, and I could see her body language wanting to create separation allowing her the freedom to run again. I was slowing her down, and instead of seeing that, I could feel my own strength overcompensate and with each stride I would suffocate her own motion, until one afternoon exasperated she stopped and turned and looked my way. Her eyes told me she couldn’t run with me anymore, the serenity was being shattered by my own insecurities. I had forgotten long ago the beauty of a run on a gorgeous summer evening and instead began to focus upon the grace of her own understanding. Little did I know then, that now when I find myself sprinting down a pathway, she is nowhere to be found because I forced her to carve out a new trail.

I’ve been running now for some time on my own, and though the balance is there the equilibrium will always lack the beauty of sharing a stretch of nature with the one we love. Instead we try to move forward and find a reasonable gait allows us to keep the run despite constant reminders of once sharing the trail, the path together.

Perhaps serendipity does exist in the miles ahead, yet one thing is for sure – we can’t force ourselves into another’s space. We will trip and feel the perils of a missed opportunity.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

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

When Time Stands Still

Usually news, not just an epiphany,

perhaps a tragedy, friend nearby, makes us want to

have a long cry

when we, well

similar sounding sigh,

we, well, I cannot really describe the loss of

uniformity

while chaos rears its impulsivity upon the

normalcy of our lives.

~

Last night a dear friend told me news

her friend, one of a lovely circle

of women I have had the privilege of stories,

an endearment of souls traveling the years,

and they will band together,

they will search and plead and pray

for some new authenticity,

allows all of them to feel

together.

~

She is a very kind soul this dear friend of mine,

I can feel her ache,

she has memory of the sort

we all carry around with us to different degrees

of understanding loss and pain and confusion.

~

So let the world remind us all

when in the quiet silence of a sunlit morning,

we can stand still,

feel the permanence of our frame of mind,

when life seems so apparent

its penchant for reminding us all,

standing alone is no place to know,

only a landing upon where we sometimes fall.

~

Perhaps there is a gesture we only know so well,

a moment of peace, of love, when then hearts do swell.


© Thom Amundsen 4/2021

(for Cherri)

Finding Solitude

When do I recognize I’ve had enough

after years of never really knowing how to decide,

what makes it worthwhile,

this it, this piece of our lives,

this need to demonstrate always

while this hollow reality aches inside.

~

When only the quaking fear of my psyche

takes over anything else,

whether it matters or whether it isn’t even real,

my mind will play with the moment,

and let me wallow in the shame

of never really understanding how easy life might be.

~

I chose to take a difficult route the day I became alone

within a crowd of thousands,

there I stood in the center of everything feeling

the wrath of my society bend its will,

in order to pummel my own confusion

with diatribe after diatribe of nonsensical air.

~

I wonder if I might ever really fathom

hours of lost time,

considerations that might leave others blind

with fury or madness or ill met resolve,

the burden of the human condition

never really being realized, floating askance.

~

It was in the dawn of my 25th year

when reality spoke only of its burden

and the charmed life,

the one just on the other side of the fence

would only chuckle the nearer I stood

knowing forever I would struggle to find me.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2021

That Last Place

Months ago,

in an arid summer sun

I stood stunned

watching their feet play the edge,

up close, gravel and loose rock,

awesome picture for the den,

a wide expanse behind us all,

let’s us believe

there really is a top to the world.

~

Too far away,

too scared,

couldn’t make it anyway

I don’t know if it is the fear of crossing over,

or leaving behind feeling no longer wanted.

A speaker

could rationalize any reason

to want to disappear,

because it is them,

doesn’t have to be real.

~

Think about the time it would take,

versus all the hours to return,

how quickly the immediacy,

there isn’t enough time in a day to

ever understand

just why one choice over the other,

evinces that random inability to

cry.

~

I remember when I was a little boy,

something about a woman

everyone knew,

left all of them in confusion

though her words clearly made it real,

she spoke of no longer needing

the speaker,

to give audience to her own personal

demons,

the sad surrender.

~

I really don’t understand what it takes to recognize why,

I don’t know if I ever can.


© Thom Amundsen 10/22/2020