We do
Touch hearts
Any motive in our mind
Is meant as something new
A fondness
A memory
A radio song
We touch each other’s heart
Its meaning, why we do
We do
Touch hearts
Any motive in our mind
Is meant as something new
A fondness
A memory
A radio song
We touch each other’s heart
Its meaning, why we do
There in the wind lays definition,
she called them changing winds.
If we could recreate days of passion
perhaps then love properly gleaned.
~
Yet days and hours of time forgotten,
though symbolic reminders lay about
we could in simple terms relive again.
Beauty in circumstance beyond doubt.
~
Oh follow me on this our sensual journey
Oh follow me is this our sensual journey
Oh follow me will be our sensual journey
~
For it is the two of us no longer paired
though in our time so loved had we dared.
Go on and on and on as well we cared,
yes love does happen practiced and paired.
~
Oh follow me in this our constant journey.
© Thom Amundsen 10/1
I wonder sometimes where it is I might go,
if given the opportunity
the freedom to walk away from everything
mechanical in my mind.
You see,
there is a kind of volley of emotion
we live by,
we cannot forget or perhaps
we wish we might be the one,
whom always does
need a reminder,
a reminder to live our lives
in the present
without reflection,
no memory
that might bring us down,
for there is the rub,
that down-trodden personality
the one that seemingly
‘makes us stronger’
in the end when it is far too late.
Too late,
you might beg for an option,
and quite simply there is,
but until you decide,
had enough
that fantasy remains strong
as we age,
stronger forever,
an eternal duel with what works
and what unravels in time
for a crisis to engulf …
my state of mind.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
to what I believe
I’ll wait for the dust to settle
to what I believe
I’ll wonder out loud
to what I believe
time would cover so much space
to what I believe
could only matter to one
to what I believe
keeps me hanging on.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
He exists only in some plan
a diversion of mine and hers
we are lost in our own hearts
one simple flare of the Man.
~
Seems there can be a truth,
we listen, bear our hearts
without worry of wrath, imparts
a cycle of hurt so very uncouth.
~
If in God’s eyes he train the mind
to live on its own accord, afford
our lives to bury the sword.
Live with love is our humankind.
~
How do we know to forget
or is a stored energy we play
for the autumn is nearer today
fears that stubborn scorn let.
~
Let them lift their bodies cold
find a sweet warmth spoken
a slow and harmonic plan
will lives to share love so bold.
~
Once while observe the moon a crescent
without the whole she could not be present.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
Tell me how you’re going to feel
the next time you touch my soul
~
We could be friends forever
organize a press release
sounds poetic, a tad eacer
someone, we keep the peace
~
There was this one afternoon
we spoke of our adventure
shipwrecked we might maroon
our lives, this our forever.
~
Tell me how you’re going to feel
the next time you touch my soul.
Tell me how you’re going to feel
the next time you touch my soul.
~
When the walls began to cave
ought we have better understood
the freedom to love and save
seemed trite and rather screwed.
~
Stand inside the balance
and feel some sacrifice
Stand inside with chance
the love, your favorite vice
~
Tell me how your going to feel
the next time you touch my soul.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
A candle burns nearby
a reminder of some peace of mind,
tranquil is the flame
out of the corner of his eye.
Speaker beware,
someone might reveal,
their reveal,
that word causes headaches in some circles,
those afraid to look in the
mirror.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
Comes this fairy tale
some would call it
a fast and friendly gale
of why whenever might
our soul in peace prevail
change will be our writ.
~
Seems clear we see life
as a partial of our being
always in question is life
though some are arguing
doesn’t matter this strife
we are meant for living.
~
I walked outside of myself
for weeks, needs on a shelf
~
When once had confidence
been thought our middle name
we unravel so much by chance
we can never really, our game
always the question we enhance
lost inside a dream, lose our aim.
~
It wasn’t until yesterday
I could remember again,
what was ahead of my day
not ever today could I gain
semblance, a peaceful way
know in woe ever refrain.
~
I walked outside of myself
for weeks, needs, on a shelf
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
It isn’t until we know,
that we decide
we won’t go down that path again,
we want to,
want to stay there,
watch the leaves turn
see the beauty laid out before us,
when no one need be nearby
to remind us of just what was there
all this while
all this time
energy spent just wondering why,
hoping to trigger some solution,
lays only in our defense
without any real resolve,
until that day,
that singular moment,
a cathartic wind in a naked sky,
where clouds will part
stars come alive at night,
and our mind,
this simple run of thoughts and dreams
becomes like that of a trance,
lost in the horizon stretching toward the galaxy.
~
For a moment we did step away from our reality,
for a time did we realize we didn’t need to decide,
for just a beat, a heart beat, did we,
imagine.
© Thom Amundsen 9/2021
Would that we might dance the night away
When once out of reach, our love found its way
If were to measure all the pain and suffering
Could not surpass, such is beauty our yearning.
~
Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat
A solo venture that would evade defeat
Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat
Could we imagine such wonder our feat.
~
Now today there is memory, if the river walk
Across town we recall, a stroll, Isle of Fern
Red chairs and a gas fire pit, bolted, we’d talk
Memories pain the soul, hearts fear every turn.
~
I lived in this town for almost half my life
She did hers forever, and made it her life.
I would, I cannot recall a softer shade of blue
When one day for now I knew I was losing you.
~
Such a blessing it is to feel we are finally in love
When all the days, our lives, wander the stars above
Such is still that blessing when now the miles are long
When once counted upon, now the eyes cannot belong.
~
Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets
Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets
© Thom Amundsen 9/2/2021