The Library

Here’s a song* I wrote for a dear friend – I’m sharing the lyrics with my readers:

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Many years pass and then we’re together

holding hands, we’re laughing again.

I remember a special reminder,

my laughter felt real back then.

~

You remind me of a time so lovely

your sweet elegance is what makes it happen

Any man would feel loved in your eyes

I know because – that was my when

~

I stand now alone in a wander

hoping somehow, someday you might see.

My heart aches, my soul wants to wonder

Someday, somehow we find our sea.

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me.

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Hoping somehow, someday you might see,

could we someday find our sea.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

*I attended a song-writing camp last week that might have changed the direction of my life. I’ve wanted to translate my poetry into song for years, and I tasted that at this workshop. Now I have to learn how to play the guitar!

In the actual recording I am borrowing completely from Tom Petty’s instrumental genius on the acoustic guitar.

Last Spoken

When while every moment of life speaks

with the echo of nature,

some choose a concrete sentiment.

Is it possible to know last words

perhaps spill similar sound.

~

I wanted to say every moment meant

the exact opposite of what remains,

yet, the words, the voice, our own

struggle to be the immediate in

what we might believe,

would not allow any reveal,

we did, I did, squandered away

such is this momentum to relive.

~

Now will be a slow silence,

forever quiet with resolve …

ambling, fading into the summer sky,

when a melody speaks aloud

its strength is less,

like some lost memory we

no longer find to be anything

ever so important as it once

maybe one time held before.

~

I could not be capable of compassion

if meaning were a facade in my mind.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Solace Undefined

One of my favorite words might be overused,

less important to you

even if spoken in the nature of

you.

Could we ever really give final definition

to the thoughts we realize

are sometimes a notion

in our mind.

I would sit here all day long only to offer

her a moment of quiet peace

in her silence

her own space.

If every time I would suggest I want only

to offer you a moment of silence,

that feeling of abandon

without loss.

I once sat by a lake and as waters rippled,

my tears did flow, a sort of God moment

actually it was that moment,

and my tears did fall.

Wonder with me what is the simple act

of sight, of knowing, of feeling

where our bodies become

an artistry of love.


© Thom Amundsen  7/2021

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

I Remember Reading

If you think about someone,

they are a reflection of your life,

this person.

She compels you to imagine their well-being,

sweet her Grace of compassion

you discovered

glancing in her eyes.

~

I read a book about love,

two people so swept

by one another’s sensuality

that no one else could intercede

their own imagination.

~

I want to read a book about love,

two people swept

within one another’s passion

a world around and about oblivious

in their own mystique,

such is the life of two compassionate soul.

~

I knew a woman one year

she stole my heart

and anything near

may only remind me of

her eyes,

her elegance,

her genuine smile.

~

In a sundress one shimmery afternoon

she could steal the heart of many and all.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

When a Picture Would Speak

A space just waits for you

wherever he might be his eyes

could speak to you

remember when we both knew

our lives would matter.

I wanted to have a forever

if only our imagination

would someway live our truths.

If any way could be enough

to speak to love

without all of the consuming concern.

I only want to see you there

a side table held our remember where.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Wanting the fog to lift

His body had grown tired, waking to a daily chore

wanting only to be admired, not this brooding bore.

~

He would bed himself at night soak the linens in tear

wondering if ever she might understand his only fear.

~

Upon waking in the morning, the sunlight at his gaze

wouldn’t be long a yearning, scrambling in a maze

~

For it is when the fog will hold our deepest analogies

only to fashion a reaction bold, our proven fallacies.

~

The deeper he would dive to find the light of day

less again he’d feel alive, wishing only for yesterday.

~

There was a time I could love a foggy morning, the scenery

could create a magical fantasy, settling winds for you and me.


© Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Wants and Needs

So much do I, but then it sems

and then they always tell me that,

what other reason could there be,

beyond the normalcy of our lives.

I was walking toward the exit one day,

no one behind or ahead of me,

could just as well have disappeared

and then I realized it doesn’t matter where,

someone will realize why, wonder why, ask

well just why this had to be so lasting,

what could possibly step in the way of our lives,

to be so traumatic, so self disciplined to suggest

this is my way,

and no matter how late I am to the game,

my playbook is all I have left to work with

and, and, end,

well the combination works in my head.


© Thom Amundsen 6/2021


 

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