Tag: passion

Finding Words

When inside a cavern of loneliness

the sense of light

that beacon of direction

seems rather amiss.

The discovery of finding self

always out of reach

lost bathing near a sunrise

yet still tied in

feeling the rocks and dripping stone

maintain a hold

letting only this internal air be a guide.

~

We can talk ourselves out of

sharp crags, edges, finding security

in good footing

yet words seem to

fall short tossing

an avalanche of self-confidence,

continue to wade in the mire,

we wait upon an out.

~

Seems we will draw words

with our imagination,

yet diving in is our only recourse.

~

We need to recognize the possibility,

to search inside of ourselves

find a target

set our course and commit.

Words will only alone

run astray of a seeming peace.


© Thom Amundsen

A Certain Melody

I remember a time

traveling the highway

short ride to my exit

just off the city ramp,

~

So many occasions I thought

only of you

soft chords of a melody

when I listen tonight still …

~

Maybe it is the Beatles,

back then the Fab Four –

‘Back in the USSR’ meant little

beyond a lovely rhyme scheme

~

Tonight it has its own silent mystique,

a memory like 8th street after sunset.


©️ Thom Amundsen 4/2021

– for Karla

200 Miles

Would we imagine seeing so far in our lives

we could predict or at least know

beauty we perceive eventually arrives

within the miles we might choose to go

to find her heart, hold his smile

we are consumed is a mystique on trial.

~

I once knew someone in a decade long ago,

where we were children by standard in age

and yet the romantic airs of a time shall go

as a summer breeze will define this adage

as memory in a nostalgic interlude swoon

for do we seek elegance inside our moon.

~

Could be there might a confusion over come

the wonder of how lives would today become

so lovely, so unimaginably important in eye

those places we go to search our silent sigh.

In his smile there is a rather pleasant curl

of lip that would define his own head a swirl.

~

Love might be a language we will all desire

if in favor known travels a passionate fire.


© Thom Amundsen 1/2021

Fearing The Worst

I remember the dreams, the constant reminders

a continual tease, a surreal world of sidewinders

 

Each one with a story, a parallel universe

would try to shake me, send me in reverse.

 

I could never tell if a person real or imagined,

it was a nightmare the bottom was assigned.

 

Otherwise the lofty airs of fascination

always relied waking realization

 

Just a dream, perhaps a reminder

only the illusion of the constant sidewinder

 

drawing imagined color scheme on the surface,

so the internal player would always save face.

 

Walking slow inside a familiar nearby memory,

I might choose to leap, try to escape this quandary.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

The Psychology of the Human Condition

The answers exist,

wait, not today,

perhaps later in the evening,

some cathartic moment,

praying for an epiphany.

 

The heart stops and the mind cannot compete

we are a solid lot of indifference

dependent upon the sunlight,

rainbows strike a nerve

coupled by nostalgia or endearment

to a moment,

the moment

when in that circle of compelling delight

we did experience,

did evolve,

would resolve the questions in our mind.

simple logic, sweet emotions,

beyond the scope of tearing down our own

idyllic beauty.

5am

I don’t know their names

only a familiar dance

tree limbs come alive

there a ritual serenade

She would give me words

to fill in the quiet pause

a song for every voice

the melody of summertime

Oh to know beauty and grace

serendipity in silence we face

The Beauty of Culture and Our Changing Society

Tonight, I had the opportunity to watch something rather wonderful. I wasn’t alone, we all viewed what represents the identity of who we are, how we represent, what is truly special about our school district.

Tonight, Shakopee High School, held a culture fest, one that celebrated a host of different ethnic groups that as a collective whole did speak to the beauty of our diversity. There were dances, puppetry, singers that modeled cultural mores produced by a student body that exists beyond the classroom. They smiled, they hugged one another, they reached out to a marvelous gathering of people from all walks of life.

Parents came to support their children. There were people that might not walk into a high school because there could be apprehension due to cultural differences that are sometime intimidating because of language barriers and matters of equity and diversity. There were visitors, faculty, administrators who attended and spoke to one another and celebrated students who came up to them and shook hands, gave high fives, smiled and laughed and beamed with pride and courage for what they were accomplishing together as a collective whole.

To be a teacher in this school district is a special blessing in the sense that we get the chance to interact with a student body that teaches us how to recognize and understand culture beyond what is sometime taken for granted. I am so proud of our students and the organizers of our Culture Fest.

A celebration of identity is truly important when realizing the beauty of how we can interact and engage together to showcase talent, passion, and a desire to be accepted in our constantly changing society. We can be extremely proud of our district and who we are and the golden opportunity we have to offer something special to a remarkable and invaluable student body.

Fighting Ignorance

This word popped into my lexicon

today, while basking

in the setting sun,

I wondered aloud about

what it is we seem to focus

upon while all around

our familiar ground,

the ignorance of life

seems drawn to

interfere with

a

quiet reality.

 

Sweet ignorance

the bliss of our lives

suddenly has feet

begins its walk again,

when a man,

a seeming professional

screams a rant at his own fear

in order to make a point,

that was already denied

fifty years ago,

when the time for

ignorance

seemed waning

rather than gaining.

 

We do sometimes choose to ignore

that purveyor of our deepest passion.

If I Might Know Passion

A few years ago,

well, readily

while listening to something.

perhaps the spirited and melodic

voice of a Garfunkel phrase,

my sister,

she told me about the word passion.

 

I was all of fourteen years old,

hormones raging,

so the thought of a sexual connotation,

freaked me out,

sister speaks of a word,

two of us in tight corners,

Kharmann Ghia traveling down the road,

then she said,

’if you don’t have passion,

you haven’t anything to believe in.’

 

She followed by assuring me,

it meant more than what my body was telling me,

as we rounded the corner

looking over the city,

I suddenly felt comfort,

in knowing my sister,

could allow me to understand

there’s a world out there

just waiting,

always wondering

forever holding keys

to my happiness.

 

On recognizing passion,

I will forever recall the words

my sister shared with me,

that frightening autumn morning,

and today,

I can be self-assured,

I’m still looking,

still wondering,

always hoping,

the artistry,

the human condition,

allows me to lead,

a good life,

one that satisfies a need

to show purpose,

to wander free,

to live and breathe,

by intuition.

 

If I might know passion,

it may forever give me

the opportunity,

to breathe free.