If sometimes I cannot complete a sentence
it doesn’t mean I won’t understand
if you are hurting
if your state of mind isn’t feeling wise,
instead driven down by whatever the wave
of a moment,
a passing fancy,
a time when all of our lives
become wrapped into that one moment,
all others depart and we are left in a sort of dream
trying desperately to define whatever it means.
© Thom Amundsen 2/2021
The crunch of gravel
kicking up dust
from a distance looks like
Urgency
some need to get away
keeps driving me further.
Wanting to know
yet feeling the distance,
her just out of reach
Philosophy.
Just one more chance
the embodiment
of truth
may lay only ahead
never to be realized
yet likely it is
already known.
©️ Thom Amundsen 1/2021
Would that love be simple
a quiet wood, whispering breeze
to follow its journey
whistling through the trees.
~
In wintertime a naked forest
glance upon the exposed
a vulnerable sort
this is our humanity.
~
When once there might sparkle
beauty in our own naive wonder.
We did then dream, wish we
might carry on, silent mystique.
~
For is it want drives our soul
beyond this need felt once while.
Oh as the melody would
our lives in the balance
so envious
could I be, she, him, her as well,
all of us together
internally a maze of
authenticity
for the stars align,
while magic is a mystery
imagine
this is our legacy
to be two people, three,
maybe more who all believe
the other,
someone outside ourselves
could hold truth
in such is a natural
rhythm
might discover
love.
© Thom Amundsen 1/2021
Words will only restrain
such is beauty in motion.
An actual acknowledgment
within a silent serenade.
For this is love
when planning matter not.
For love is
somehow a quizzical reminder.
Our lives not bound by preface
if we live in simple harmony.
Love is
a quiet refuge stills the shadows.
©️ Thom Amundsen 1/2021
We know them
no filter moments
side swept rains tease snow
feel moisture on naked socks
walking the dog
a midnight rendezvous
perhaps routine to some
yet
tonight, today, last year
that calendar date
might, may, will, has, did,
does always, wants forever a return.
Remember once quiet
impassioned plea.
I will always be here, nearby
holding your hand, crossing paths,
nostalgic eyes.
©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2020
Everyone has a favorite color
tonight I’ll pick blue
for any number of reasons
this seems to resonate
not just the hue,
state of mind or mood or choice
as someone said to me
tonight.
We make a decision within ourselves
to decide upon what it is
we want to focus upon,
sadness?
depression?
do we even know what that means anymore?
I spoke with a friend recently,
she was telling me about something personal,
and the subject of therapy came into
our conversation,
and I discovered after revealing all of my years
of therapy,
she hadn’t ever gone to see anyone.
Ever.
I thought about it myself
and know
times in my life would not allow me to be here
right now,
writing these words if I had not
myself
bought into my life the value
of letting someone hear my problems
and then try to give me
direction afterward.
We live in that world,
one that refuses to allow vulnerability
to encompass our heart and soul,
when truthfully if we don’t reach out,
we stay alone with our thoughts,
and how in the end
has that lent anything to do with the color of
blue.
© Thom Amundsen 12/2020
Beautiful morning in pastel skies
lain in silent repose, autumn respite
breathes crisp is the air. Slow emergent eyes
would life alone always feel sweet regret.
How then we nourish a waking desire
the soul in our heart alive less restrain,
for there always this confusion aspire
dreams ahead so absolute quell the rain.
Let swift his own methodic … a Chopin
serenade … to reach high in the heavens.
Varied in nature our eyes could open
while an offering melt away burdens.
Oh now this moment our passion release.
For there is the will of God grant our peace.
©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2020
I remember a long time ago, I wrote a little piece about John Lennon, the day he was killed and the newspaper printed it. I was 20 at the time, and it was simple, ‘Guns don’t kill people, people do’ and I couldn’t really take credit for something the world was repeating to itself over and over in the mass confusion of such a loss. I remember his second album was coming out – he was talking about 40 being his next life, just published ‘Double Fantasy’ and it spoke of saving relationships with one common denominator – that was love.
My mother saw my letter to the editor and cut it out and put it on the refrigerator. To me that was an honor and I felt loved by her actions. To me that has always been what love is, not something expected but just what happens in our lives. I think in my family my children and I would say to each other and their mother, ‘I love you’ to finish conversations on the telephone. I remember one time recalling we did it so often it would glaring if one day we did not, and so I maintained the tradition, we all did, until later on in life it became a question in our minds. Suddenly name value didn’t have as much impact.
One day when I was 20 years old, I worked in an intake office and took phone calls and directed them to the psych units I worked with, and the phone rang, I answered and the voice on the other end said ‘I love you’ and hung up. I remember being so touched it gave me a tear. I had really never felt that kind of love before and here was a young woman whom I was falling in love with just chose the moment, hung up and probably smiled as much as I did the rest of that day.
So how do we define love today? I suppose it doesn’t have to be ritual as much as it needs a genuine appeal. I recently came across something about a friend that caused me some judgment, a place I don’t often like to go because it makes me feel shallow. The truth is though, I wanted to know and the only way I could is if I asked her directly, and then my greatest fear would be her rejection. So how do we define love? We don’t.
We simply allow love to happen in our lives, and then smiles and light in our eyes become real.
© Thom Amundsen 12/5/2020
By the way, look in her eyes,
you will see my own,
a distant wonder denies
the presence of passion sown.
We are all traveling alone,
despite seconds away
we would tell you what we have known,
if only allowed this one day.
The lives of her own discovery
seem rather telling, weeping
personality with little ceremony
yet sweet harmony still is telling.
For there is a silence in all of ur lives
accentuate beauty when love thrives
© Thom Amundsen 12/3/2020
