Walk In The Woods

Shelter immediate a quiet reaction in a forest,

knowing only the carved humanity

gave passage inside a wood,

a seasonal fascination with nature.

 

Such is the beauty of a wilderness

a recognition of some humility

the animal life, vegetation and looming

trees that spoke to an ancient history.

 

Wonderful is the breeze circulating air

a quiet walk turns to some melody

stand now listen, start again and feel

the woods a passion, glance, a glimpse

 

When maneuvering the crags and rocky

exterior of lives  comfort habit

the bounding slams of a bear feet away

our own humanity with their territory.

 

Pick up rocks we might recognize truths

We the humans are children of their home.

the ‘august’ of my childhood

for I remember when only as a child

I would on a hilltop nearby

cry out my fears alone at the edge of gravel

a pathway held my dreams

and my sanity

for alone I could scream

without being known,

only I might be the wiser

in a world so overthrown

as some confusion,

the medley

of a young boy

nearing his own insanity.

 

for I would then depart that hilltop,

walk the gravel trail,

return to my world,

this sea of humanity,

claiming to know the truth,

by their actions,

those of which I watched

intently,

wishing to find some avenue

a comfort level

would give allowance

to teenage angst rather than a

labeled disorder.

 

for now might be all the decades of time

the traveling monologues

starlit nights,

and golden sunrises,

clouds might give some detailed reminder

of life as it is

meant only to be lived

rather than caught in some constant

scrutiny of why that determines

well-being.

 

My struggles well documented

in the porous fabric of my mind,

tales of which I might

redefine,

in order that some peace of mind,

peace of mind,

peace of mind,

would that I could piece together

this static fame of mind.

 

I am in the ‘august’ of my childhood,

oh such is life that took us

on a roller coaster of emotion,

the different degrees of temptation,

obliteration of dreams,

the calming sea of

finding solace

in the truth

that speaks to that

lonesome road

so often felt

yet clearly denied

for sake of some

sweet symbolic stability.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

There Are These Days

When the right reach

seems just beyond

Instead of knowing

we’d rather

capture

ourselves

in a previous

state of mind.

 

We know the truth

is somewhere

we might call it fond

a memory,

climactic,

some experience

a tangible travail

when once we knew.

 

Seeking sunset splendor

the waiting game

a day of hours

where in the quiet

mindset might

falter upon old witness

the travesty of

human frailty.

 

So now we breathe

the dry air

of  some distant

distraction

creeped in upon our  own

reality,

to suggest

listen to your instincts.

 

Remember when

we could sit for hours

talk about this sixth sense

of knowing,

how long ago,

did that skill,

step into the twilight.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

In Fields of Memory

Cast eyes upon mellow, a sun streaked sky.

Choose to know a spectacular sunrise

knocking upon lives in a quiet wise

manner speaks to answering only why.

 

Once, while regarding, ponder truth in life

for a people know safety in number

a song, memory, sound to remember

follow the sky, in meaning beyond strife.

 

Walk inside the grains of sand a hot mess

would recognize, altered states of truth.

Lonely participants weakness forsooth

such might be a lifetime enduring stress.

 

A stroll in summer wheat fields may release

Silent nostalgic melody in peace.



© Thom Amundsen 2019

Glance into The Morning Fog

Watching tree limbs bask in the morning fog

Their own shadows hidden from naked eye

We, the observer might question why

Silence in storms, listen a croaking frog.

 

A world exists speak natural balance

Deep in the wood, horrors of life aside

Humanity breathe where watcher reside

A home is habitat for those who chance.

 

While just beyond the gravel road and pond

Live a lifetime in tragic element

Lost souls, lost loves, confusion we lament

Evil is conflict arisen but fond

 

We mourn sweet soul, tragic is sudden death

In the cool dense fog, take solace in breath.



© Thom Amundsen 2019

Summer Dreams

Wish for a chance to capture such beauty

As lights our horizon, an accentuate calm.

Satisfy urgency, sweet like the palm

Solace upon heart sought serenity.

 

Silent eyes seeking accessible paths

A walk is meditation in such air

Having found freedom, surreal is where

Let go of resentments, wild wanton wrath.

 

A forest, instill beauty, while fountains pour

Sky streak across a somber universe

Might love break out spectacular verse

While slow is familiar seasonal lore.

 

Yonder the people in casual stroll

Swoon a spiritual familiar knoll

youR, a teaCher fer cryin’ outLOUD!

Wait, what, yeah,

you are right,

so correct, me,

cannot argue that.

Its, Its, Its,

stranglehold on my life

is like,

I cannot breathe today

because I woke and realized,

it’s, it’s, it’s,

July.

 

Wait, what?

I mean

the end of July

for crying out loud.

 

Man,

get it together,

you are sitting on a couch

watching birds,

and have not a desire

to do anything else.

Thank God your pup

just appreciates

.laying upon your toes.

 

You’re a teacher, for crying out loud,

and its, it’s, its reflection

of time,

is

well, it’s,

well

it is ok,

(because I saw)

a cardinal perched nearby.

 

What a beautiful day

it is to be alive!


© Thom Amundsen 2019