First Moments

When doubt begins to wonder

and all the souls that gather around

suddenly want to splinter off,

an edgy sort of raw scrape upon our

own fragile sanity.


We might think we know,

protest the moment,

rather respond with a reaction

that only suggests we are

as fucked up as we believe ourselves.


What happens when we really cannot

our bodies, our selves

an old adage we once called a title

seems now so profound only wants

to speak to the here and now.


I remember one time,

I could clearly see the grain of a wall,

having looked so long

a blank slate of never ending worry

just across the room, just there.


Have we ever wondered why

each of us operates by our own set of rules,

despite knowing otherwise

fall on my sword

before I ever imagine something wise.


Seems a song playing on the radio

helped me know who I was,

know what pain felt like,

when a strung out heroine addict

was found dead in a seedy restroom.


Somebody cared about that moment,

they came and rescued his soul,

there was some reason to know why

yet the questions would always

far outweigh that sad reality.


Those moments when we suddenly

find our way,

when through the quiet of a morose

state of mind,

we ride the crest of that initial pain.


Those first moments we’d rather never explain.

© Thom Amundsen 2/2021


It is here that I wait

Every day,

Each time I feel like I am close

The shift is apparent,

Once again, left to imagine,

Without circling any reality.

If I could imagine the beauty of a flower,

Rising through the soil

Arching its naked back,

Vulnerable to the rain skies,

A harsh wind,

The natural bounty of the earth,

Any manner of breeze or

The heavy step of man,

We are all just that close

To having our stems broken

By the reality of our pain,

Always waiting nearby,

Hanging around,

Like shadows along the alleyway,

Never loud,

Always there,

Just waiting,

Wondering if you could ever mind,

Actually having their presence,

Let you,

Just allow you the one time,

To step inside, and view your life from afar,

Where they stood,

Just waiting,

Mock less your reasoning.

State of Mind in a Decade

That’s when you left for real this time,

let me explain, you’d never left before, always there,

always nearby, no matter the miles,

a phone call, a letter, nearly an email,

whatever the venue, I could always count on you.

I think our lives are peculiar in their manner,

making us believe

people will be with us forever.

You had me convinced, so did he of course,

and then gradually the two of you …

I do hope and wonder,

imagine and try to ponder alone

in my own quiet reality,

I wonder whether you might be togetehr,

how things look for you,

I am curious if life is the same, just a different universe,

a universal theme of spiritual reckoning.

I know today how powerful the mind is,

so capable, so self-assuring to leave the human body,

behind … a burial ground exists to carry

the weight of our mechanical frailty.

Yet, out there, I heard a story the other day,

that when he was getting ready,

an old friend of week’s earlier,


said hello, and hoped he might hurry along.

I think that is rather fascinating here,

watching leaves on a tree blowing in the wind,

the nature of our lives sedentary,

while we allow our physicality –

a gradual decay.

Yet, here we are realizing the mind,

that precursor to the soul,

magical in its own anomaly,

plods on in steady march,

leaving us all wondering what next

chemical reaction,

will help guide our next steps.


I am delighted to speak with you again, it has been so long,

I miss you mom, I know today you see everything is real.


When recognizing how far we have come,

she is always standing welcome,

When after a serious fall we need support,

she is always holding court,

when we couldn’t possibly talk about it,

she laughs with smile at our sarcastic wit

when wondering just how dark the night sky

she’ll be there to help understand why.

While mountains are moved by men of men

nearby again, she’ll wait until only when.

We think of her when our emotions run awry

her just knowing will help us sleep to-nigh.

I remember when as a  child I skinned my knee,

she told me to let the wounds heal free.

If I could walk with mom down 28th avenue again

with her by my side, please tell me when.

She is a memory in my mind today and tomorrow,

without her value my perceived life is hollow.

I glance upon the rain soaked clouds in the sky

knowing just beyond the horizon she is nearby.

Spiritual Grace

I have these moments

frequent occurrences,

where the world stops,

and I suddenly feel light-headed;

the sky becomes a pastel backdrop

teasing my reality.

I look around in these moments

everyone, though stopped …

Society ambles on

while around us our physicality, our persona,

our mechanical attributes

continue to function at a high pace

dependent upon the master plan.

I have these moments

where I would preference

the roller-coaster

suddenly jam up,

and let me rest

at the top.


a spiritual reckoning if I may.

Moments When

I want to forget about you

when I stroll down the street

she parts her hair with her left hand

the way you did

the way we laughed

she chuckled

sounded like you again

I want to forget about you

yet every time I see a bicycle

I want to watch you ride in front of me

the way we did

the way you laughed

when I tried to catch up to you.

I want to forget about you

when the sunset reminds me of evenings

and morning bird song …

I don’t want to forget about you.

Missing Moments

How often which moment we decide is priority

becomes the nucleus of our day

So many avenues we must try to oblige

become a distraction of what is real.

We could join a monastery and dedicate our dreams

to those of ‘the others’ the ones we know

have a greater need than our … asphalt resurfacing.

We might imagine taking a stand on a cause to change

the obstacles that prevent altruistic lives

from becoming an action rather than a notion

towards bettering our neighborhood.

I wonder if a rant of appraisal will allow

the moments we miss to become simple fallow.

I want to be there, while you are here, when we are …

together sharing our lives, our hearts, our desires.

I hope I can step outside of my own self-driven

patterns of anonymity

that place where I like to hide

when I realize I cannot keep up with the world around me

I am drawn by the guilt and shame

the needless judgment that I know is so correct

even when I cannot keep up and need to become

the human being of frailty and fault that I really am.

I’m missing moments and this is my reality.


Those times before

the moment occurs

when the passion is strong

the desire we abhor

a notion that spurs

our memory to try and belong

to the instance

when reflection

caused a stirring memory

a simple chance

a new solution

that inner voice the kind we often bury

See the surreal light

makes our lives real

caught in a masked web of deceit

when we do in spite

wander into a deal

often our hearts reel in defeat

blows off our own

sense of responding

to a variety of recognized attitude

one had I known

I may not be diving

deep into the things said are so rude

So now I seek sleep

to rest my weary body

I’ve toiled the day again just confused

knowing our lives are deep

in the balance of remedy

wishing our lives could only be defused


of sorry moments in regret and despair

those ideals that sometimes love ignites

Moments by Moonlight – A Sonnet




We are a memory in someone’s eyes

unless we forget to glance where it lies.

How many evenings have we remembered

late shadows a rendezvous; we weathered

a storm of passion tasting skin envy.

Our searching mind tells tales known, every

lost moment by moonlight, when still we pause

to feel the solar tug of Nature’s cause.

For love is held in our hands in fashion

sparkling fires, tidal waves of passion,

become easy to notice, midnights glow.

Soft heart’s enter anew sweet nectar’s flow.

Such energy is fond in memory

while keeping well at bay our lunacy.

How Do We Know?

And then I began to wonder

How simple the term might be

I asked for a quick definition

Only to discover that deep under

My own selfish insecurities

Lied a measure of trepidation


When we examine the real passive

Nature of human interactions while

Giving ourselves to the status quo

There comes a time of reactive

Response to the idea of a servile

Commitment towards every last row


Talking about verbal onslaughts

Do you remember starting a dialogue

That quieted every open minded notion

Of real discussion and genuine thoughts

Ending the incessant monologue

With a desire to take little action


For we are that society that may only respond

In a moment of turmoil sullen and well beyond