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

Monday Reminders

Felt off when I awoke to the morning sunlight

a beautiful reality outside my window frame

couldn’t shake the vibe in my mind I might

forget another day, today not the same.

 

Trying to piece together wherever emotions lay,

what is it I am imagining, what is my rewind.

I have scared written all over my insides today

though if you ask me, you’ll pick apart my mind.

 

If I could map about the progress of a projection

without ever having to experience its method

perhaps then would live far less rejection,

the spirit of our beauty not perceived a facade.

 

I don’t particularly like these Monday blues,

leave me feeling such scathing personal reviews.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2021

Last Night In Shadows

I waited outside criss crossed windows

anticipating her,

our lives together

like always, we were meant to be here.

She rounded the banister, bedtime linens flowing in the darkness

a light behind would shine her soul

such is the beauty of a woman in love in a twilight.

Her smile lit up the night,

this anticipation I watched her hands open locks

she would hold a key that meant,

yes, you do sweet reckoning my heart will stir.

I thought to myself in this quiet night

have I ever been, could I, is it possible,

this delightful moment is the first time I have experienced love.

I felt unsorted, like in a dream

all the significant moments of mystery might blend

until waking would I see her with me, next to me,

our hearts will intermingle now,

and as I do watch you rest so peacefully by my side,

I know in the immediacy,

I am your caregiver for life.

For while the world around us may continue to confuse,

we can in each other’s eyes know our truths leave others blind.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2021

The Library (frosty eyes)

We know

were kind eyes

for a life did I unfold a passion

years later

could a gift a sudden

remind

once then

did we kiss to hold and know

life would live

well beyond our years

when then

this might be a sudden

delight

in eyes, in heart, in soul

our mind’s eye

could now we know,

would we still …

imagine.


©️ Thom Amundsen 2/2021

200 Miles

Would we imagine seeing so far in our lives

we could predict or at least know

beauty we perceive eventually arrives

within the miles we might choose to go

to find her heart, hold his smile

we are consumed is a mystique on trial.

~

I once knew someone in a decade long ago,

where we were children by standard in age

and yet the romantic airs of a time shall go

as a summer breeze will define this adage

as memory in a nostalgic interlude swoon

for do we seek elegance inside our moon.

~

Could be there might a confusion over come

the wonder of how lives would today become

so lovely, so unimaginably important in eye

those places we go to search our silent sigh.

In his smile there is a rather pleasant curl

of lip that would define his own head a swirl.

~

Love might be a language we will all desire

if in favor known travels a passionate fire.


© Thom Amundsen 1/2021

Quiet Love

Words will only restrain

such is beauty in motion.

An actual acknowledgment

within a silent serenade.

For this is love

when planning matter not.

For love is

somehow a quizzical reminder.

Our lives not bound by preface

if we live in simple harmony.

Love is

a quiet refuge stills the shadows.


©️ Thom Amundsen 1/2021

Choices

Beautiful morning in pastel skies

lain in silent repose, autumn respite

breathes crisp is the air. Slow emergent eyes

would life alone always feel sweet regret.

How then we nourish a waking desire

the soul in our heart alive less restrain,

for there always this confusion aspire

dreams ahead so absolute quell the rain.

Let swift his own methodic … a Chopin

serenade … to reach high in the heavens.

Varied in nature our eyes could open

while an offering melt away burdens.

Oh now this moment our passion release.

For there is the will of God grant our peace.


©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2020

This Thing We Call Love

I remember a long time ago, I wrote a little piece about John Lennon, the day he was killed and the newspaper printed it. I was 20 at the time, and it was simple, ‘Guns don’t kill people, people do’ and I couldn’t really take credit for something the world was repeating to itself over and over in the mass confusion of such a loss. I remember his second album was coming out – he was talking about 40 being his next life, just published ‘Double Fantasy’ and it spoke of saving relationships with one common denominator – that was love.

My mother saw my letter to the editor and cut it out and put it on the refrigerator. To me that was an honor and I felt loved by her actions. To me that has always been what love is, not something expected but just what happens in our lives. I think in my family my children and I would say to each other and their mother, ‘I love you’ to finish conversations on the telephone. I remember one time recalling we did it so often it would glaring if one day we did not, and so I maintained the tradition, we all did, until later on in life it became a question in our minds. Suddenly name value didn’t have as much impact.

One day when I was 20 years old, I worked in an intake office and took phone calls and directed them to the psych units I worked with, and the phone rang, I answered and the voice on the other end said ‘I love you’ and hung up. I remember being so touched it gave me a tear. I had really never felt that kind of love before and here was a young woman whom I was falling in love with just chose the moment, hung up and probably smiled as much as I did the rest of that day.

So how do we define love today? I suppose it doesn’t have to be ritual as much as it needs a genuine appeal. I recently came across something about a friend that caused me some judgment, a place I don’t often like to go because it makes me feel shallow. The truth is though, I wanted to know and the only way I could is if I asked her directly, and then my greatest fear would be her rejection. So how do we define love? We don’t.

We simply allow love to happen in our lives, and then smiles and light in our eyes become real.


© Thom Amundsen 12/5/2020

In This My Quiet

Is when then known only me

Some is the sacrifice

More often is penchant to grieve

Finding only solace

A genuine peace

Pressures are off

Too soon we would scoff

For know that day

Beautiful sunrise

Warm is energy late fall

While the morning mellows

Changing winds

Still elude this fellow

His smile

Forever held in eyes

Enough that

His soul

Would that he might

Would he still find

Her heart

Continue reading

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