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

In My Comfort Zone

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It is where I am every day,

my comfort zone,

I give a glimpse into the world

I see,

every hour of my day,

until the sun does set,

hues change, sky becomes a darkness outside

I cannot see as readily.

 

Until the morning comes,

then in rain or sunshine, the view the same,

I always see the leaves in summer,

in winter the naked branch, the neighbor’s home,

I see this every day,

it is in my comfort zone …

 

Where no bombs exist,

shattered windows, glass explodes,

the screams of children barely two,

barely recognizing a reason to fear,

yet they endure,

a daily barrage of human agony,

a tragic reality leaves a shell now,

where a window frame once gave a shield

to the weather, the mortars, the terror, the wind …

carries evil’s wares inside the shadows.

 

It is where I am every day,

my comfort zone,

I give a glimpse into the world,

I see …

 

My Last Night

When the pain became too much
I stopped looking
Finally the strength
To step away overcame me
False reality
Bitter truths
Splayed before my eyes
Quite simply my heart was broken
In more places than even they could know

When a cry occurs
Soft petals
Rain soaked tears
Skin damp from streams released
Across my cheeks
The general public never sees
Trails of passionate fears
Not because they can’t visualize
The instance of pain

A child’s eyes
Meant to contain beauty
A sparkle of delight
Expressive response to a world
That allows her unbridled love
Safe to imagine
Without panic or anxious torment
Without slander or tactless assault
Only soft cushions of life

Why have all the children disappeared
Innocence and naiveté, and quiet love