Sunshine and Coffee

I have these moments

this is a paradigm

a realization of some sort to

hang onto with every fiber

of my state of mind.

Life changes and we hitch on

to find wherever

a landing pad

might let us fall back on our feet

again.

We could fall off the ledge

and yet

always there is a rolling hill

to slow us eventually

in soft memory

of fields of play in our childhood.

Maybe nostalgic,

perhaps hopeful

yet everyday there is a chance for sunlight,

and when that occurs,

a smile may emanate,

a radiance …

we all have dreams.


© Thom Amundsen 11/2020

Something About A Speaker

Remember standing in the rain

feeling the water dampen your cheeks

nose tickling from soft droplets

then your hand wet wiping it all away.

Suddenly then some literary mirage

asks you might reconsider that moment

was the asphalt wet

did your socks get soaked.

Perhaps instead in your picture window

you watched all the kids rain-soaked

dry inside while they stood at the stop

just watching an afternoon slip by

Puddles were left for later on

damp riders caught the bus home.


©️Thom Amundsen 10/2020

A Fallen Storm

The winds outside

speak with a low tone.

Might circle my mind

bring me inside their own

gale force.

This act of nature

seems necessary to help

all of us to understand

life, lives, our own …

As fragile as the leaves

dead in the fall

tossed randomly through the air

still holding – hoping – to a gentle end.


©️ Thom Amundsen 10/2020

In Darkness There is a Blue

Trying to find that color,

searching since a child,

I remember gatherings

with friends my age and teenage elders,

those we all wished to emulate,

sitting amongst ourselves,

laughs, giggles, smiles,

seduction,

every aspect of the human condition,

would enhance this sensation,

our sensory being.

~

I could lay in the middle of a field

soft whisper of midnight breeze

look at the sky, the miles of sky

stars and occasional glints of light,

a shooting star where a wish is missed

so then in that singular moment

a self-critical adamant fear

begins to sweep through the forest

the moment gone now,

left feeling cold in a farmer’s field.

~

Twenty years later, or even more now,

decades of afterthought,

the what-ifs, whens, why nots, the who …

we all want to care about something,

and yet,

lost as I could with every search of word,

would it matter at all,

if one day,

the words just failed to appear.

~

I wonder the beauty of a blue horizon,

is it a state of mind or some intricate light show.


© Thom Amundsen 10/2020

An Autumn Sky

Oh we do see the autumn of our lives

each season holds promise to the wise,

ah, to breathe sordid remnants of summer

where twilight body bathed in hot slumber

 

Now to wander in the mind inside a travel

on sunsets and rises we felt could unravel.

That perseverance such is humanity fierce

that will always sing its harmony in verse.

 

When does love on this earth become sweet

how silence in the rain may venture in sleet,

yet still do our eyes have wells, a dignified cry

would we let a mist cleanse face in gray sky.

 

An ashen wind in the west a foreboding scenery

while our sacrifice weep, sweet is aging silvery.


© Thom Amundsen 9/12/2020

Inspiration in a Quote

“No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible.”
— George Chakiris

 

I watched as autumn sun began to rise

a day in the life of a man so wise

he would punish himself, lay upon ground

rather than expand upon love he found.

For many years thereafter could we want

a would, a possibility, a taunt.

Such is the value of a peace of mind

when in throes we choose an only rewind.

In times of sorrow we grieve compassion,

the beauty of the human condition

must we shun all adversity favored

shallow sentiment in sorrow wavered.

Our lives touched by the grace of God we weep

we hope and dream our joy will we keep.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2020

A Week Later

I wonder about perception,

how well it matches up inside,

the image we carry of ourselves,

the identity screaming always for balance

against the odds,

despite our own misgivings.

 

Last week I was high,

a natural phenomena

that took me places,

I didn’t have to anticipate,

just lived inside

this possibility.

 

This morning I stared out the window

barely able to move,

I wanted to question whether I should

with the many voices

clamoring in the back of mind,

yes, well, in any rate, you could.

 

I did,

here now begins a day,

a bit overcast,

accentuating a sort of morose

atmosphere

to balance the mood.

 

Sometimes I wonder

to myself

where this all began.

I know I shared it with you

one time,

so many peaks and valleys ago.


© Thom Amundsen 5/2020

Silence is a Forest

Listen to the birds singing in spring
Hear the cello at home in between

Each memory
Each moment

A song we could create in melody
If only the world not live parody
Such is the mendacity of our time
When still is beauty yet sublime

Each moment
Each memory

If in the midst of a traveled rhyme
We shut out a neighbor is a crime,
Only preserve that moment, oh 9/11
Restoration, is love in sweet Heaven

Each memory
Each moment

Now in wood, in silence find our Zen
A patch of forest heart and soul then
Speaks fond of a once nostalgic liberty
We would may always grasp this reality

Oh to know the sound a certain bird will
Sweet a peace of mind, distant cello still


©️ Thom Amundsen 4/2020

Moments in a Blizzard

Windswept sky designs landmark,

the world is being blanketed by that force

greater than our own,

a magical parade of Nature’s wrath,

in the simplest manner of beauty.

 

Oh her strength apparent

inside the wonder of it all,

the winter storm,

a blizzard upon our discontent,

perhaps we might fly away.

 

Lost inside this forever cycle

our lives are equally drawn

by a static probability

of scant survival in the throes

of a woeful condition.

 

Step inside the winds,

that bury this frozen memory,

covering up our sorrows

so there might be a new desire,

a passion to understand.

 

A realization,

recognizing there is an after-life

to the sparkle – once

no longer remains

inside a youthful dream.

 

There inside the wealth of our

humanity

exists a welcome change,

that ever resilient testimony,

suggests we are all ready,

 

already walking again,

this might provocative winds allow.

 


© Thom Amundsen 1/2020

Foliage Hidden

For they do sing in suggestive breeze,

still discreet in foliage

their lives depend on a travel,

readying swift reply to the wind.

 

Watch out your windows such

is preparation of a Creator,

grace upon our planted wilderness.

An imagined love in autumn

 

Sweater in hand time for a walk

In the quiet air of an arid migration.



© Thom Amundsen 2019