Tag: Him


A person could

over time

lose their mind.

Suppose that is the fear

when those calm

rather only speculate,

know everyone cares.

Afraid of certain words

might – over the edge




© Thom Amundsen. 11/2021

Days Ago; Weeks Ahead

deviant art
surreal hand

Did you wonder if it was about then,

that time, when we,

well, while the world grew cynical

around our own lives.

Did you ever think

we might be as necessary

the cogs in the wheel,

as anyone else who symbolized

that same hypocrisy.

Would you walk with me,

just for a short while

so we might again wonder

if that was ever really that


Many days,

the long stretch of an hour,

the time it takes to wonder why,

I do want to cry,

instead I’m told,

‘say good-bye’

and let memory take the place

of what is today’s reality.

It’s just,

there are times,

there are these wisps of my imagination

tell me bold,

what a lovely time you always were.

I still don’t know if you’ll ever read this

the same way you could read my eyes …


*photo found on Deviant Art

Standing on Fences

I didn’t, no.

I could believe it might go

a way my dreams, had

suggested so.

I would be reminded

when she could walk slow,

I’d be blinded

by anything beyond  being so.

Autumn skies,

to add a sadness

while across the way,

she stood, she smiled, she danced,

without anyone needing her to know,

except me.

I was the one stood in the way,

leaned heavily against a fence,

I wanted to carry with me,

so perhaps another time,

I could count on the


being healthier than


I would wait, my hope

a smile might permeate the strict

reality of my visual nightmare.

she would be,

there in the afternoon sunlight

away from me,

without knowing,

unless of course I wave,

I shouted,

please don’t leave me I love you.

she smiled.

yet my eyes would fail me,

when hoping her glance my way

would provide comfort.

I smiled and let her be.

If Ever I Could

I might be that person I thought I wanted to be

the one that would capture your attention,

the man who would become your king,

I remember the hours that would go by when I first

began to compose my serenade to you,

I could travel for miles listening to every note

that might remind me of a way to speak to you.

I wondered then why I needed so badly to know,

what reason had I beyond just simply being,

I wondered how it was I could maintain your love,

when really, I hadn’t held onto anything at all.

If ever I could I might return to that moment

when I gave you my first kiss, and watched you walk away.

Your jeans, with their special lines, so well designed.

How is it that moment remains and allows me to forget

all of the pain, the confusion, the inability to understand why.

I could no longer hold onto you anymore, I could see in your eyes,

you’d moved on, you were somewhere else, the bookshelf collapsed.

I should have known then when words spilled across the wood

your reaction was simply to gather them into a pile,

a task left for another day without any immediacy,

their matter had little value anymore beyond some moment

farther away, in a distant future, a breakfast encounter

that when he walked through the door, she then mentioned to me,

how shallow his appearance, how vague his meaning to be.

If ever I could, I might truly wander back in time, I might wish

to realize then that now it all seemed the ruse it truly was.

When Your Hand I Held

We picked the music, walked together

while everyone smiled, glassy eyed,

to each of us we had chosen a path,

our favorites were the melodies we knew

to be such delightful reminders

of just that happiness we had chosen.

When your hand I held, and walked

the aisle while the violin played behind,

well it was then I knew I was innocent

of all the growth that lay ahead in our lives.

I do  listen to that music nearly every night,

only to recall the reason it holds the key

to whom we are today, to a sweet blend

a harmony to rest upon your true soul,

to allow me to understand the peace you give

my every day, my every heartfelt waking day

We Bleed at the Doorstep (dedicated to Marcos Pantaleon)

Our lives are here together
We share our triumphs
With the same energy that consumes
Our despair
We now know tragedy on a personal level
Not the first time
We know the risks while others
Simply do not own
Or care to understand
And yet tonight
We are one and we are strong
And Boston is a very long way away
We bleed at the doorstep
Truth is as I stand here with you
I don’t have a clue
The symbolic nature of your
Sacrifice. I can only feel
Loss and confusion
The halls of Shakopee will empty
Of the laughter and love you bring
To every day with your smile
I feel your spirit tonight
And I look around
And the people all represent
The beauty of your challenge
That is Energy
We bleed at the doorstep
People can be beautiful
In the smiles and tears that are shared
To help ease the pain
The terrible angry scorn
Of wondering what is His plan?
How do we continue to seek our
Within a disconnect that shirks
Our freedom to laugh and love
Tonight we stand together
A familiar sight
That works in quiet beauty
We bleed at the doorstep
Candles will be held towards your light
Guide us eternally home with you tonight.