Tag: poet

This Silence

Feel the wind against the pane

a song, a following

a giving greeting

in a storm.

Then gone, it disappears,

left in quiet

taking in a gray day outside.

A time to reflect

let memory share a moment

when all that matters

lay before me,

such is beauty when to breathe

is another utterance of fresh air

heard in the breeze,

silent in mind.


©️ Thom Amundsen 12/2021

On Being Scared

Stepping within the shadows of our curiosity

one man might settle

world around him suggest a normalcy

only this man without conscious

effort

cannot really untangle from his mind,

caught up in the doings

of his rotational reality.

~

Like a circus we might imagine our world

in a constant thrust of

soft display,

the reality is elsewhere

for now live upon the fiction,

I applaud you,

and appreciate you,

I’m grateful to be caught up in

nothing,

nothing, at all

rather.

~

Isn’t that it then,

are we so secluded in our lives

we haven’t taken the time

to know

anyone,

any one at all,

outside our own circle of deceit,

that quiet melody of a mundane existence

allows us to never have to think about ..

never think about …

think

never think.

~

Oh for lack of ever being afraid

would we laugh, oh the fuss we made.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Waterfall Wishes

If finding a manageable route

standing nearby without doubt.

If might a speculate shower

whereby he inside might cower,

step into the stream

feel its powerful dream

the thought of all of our wishes

where nearby one man’s misses

for resolve

to solve

all of his climbing desire

rather than soak in the mire

of our spiritual reckoning

this is my solo beckoning.

I would wish to find some release

from a current, inside poised peace.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Traveler Bags

Is this sacred wisdom

we carry its mystery

a naked history

remains impossible along the road.

Step aside and watch time

steady wheels

weighed down in two ton

reminder.

The bags become a target

ready to be pummeled

first sighted

a driver today might aim

tomorrow disregard.

Hide in the fields of shame

distant traveler

no longer

Quiet Roads

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

Hearing Voices

They are not loud,

in fact,

whispers that catch me,

wondering where.

They are in my head,

reminders

of why it is that way I am

will be my forever.

I sometimes in the silence

can imagine window sills tremble,

the sky is falling

inside my mind.

I wonder if you might know,

this feeling

is more powerful than

anything I will ever know.

Know it is true,

Know it can never go away.

No, no, know.

A Giving Value

Its been awhile

since a recommended analysis

would take me,

move me,

ask me to respond to life

and resonate.

 

While the world

continues to cycle

a round

a mechanical need

to survive

the crossing winds,

seems logical

we might all

seek the same

peace and solace.

 

Yet, it’s been awhile

since peace of mind

seemed relevant

to my own thoughts …

rewind,

the constant

pouring truth

having to comprehend,

what it might be

our own personality

subjects actions,

always a challenge.

 

Stand on the precipice

see the miles of opportuinity

if in flight

we fall rapidly,

but the observation,

distant eternity.

 

Step away and enjoy the view

that part of you, gives value too.


© Scott F Savage 3/2020

Twilight Conscience

Swift breeze is nonchalant to a unique settings.

Silent hour forever in the mind of an observer,

a starry horizon will stretch a furthest minute

to give benefit to psychic appraisal of reason.

 

Stand awake in time a twilight enhanced howl

whereby our lives will in natural light return.

For the moment we might meditate the night

with sudden revelation – planetary alignment.

 

I would if may suggest my life in the balance

would hold truth grateful such wires insomnia

extends my intellectual prowess that imagines

in a delusion. A realist, perhaps only questions.

 

In the quiet of my home, would change a season

As the wind screams my name in idyllic reason


© Thom Amundsen 2019

Are We All The Same

Do we feel pain

rather simple agony

stepping upon cracks

forgetting  what is civility.

 

Sitting in another quiet

century

last one

got away from me.

 

Wandering in my mind

his heart became

a wonder

just how far our lives –

 

Could we see

the light of day

when the birds own

the world with melody.

 

Might we all see the truth

in love

rather than the pain

in inherent  with difference?

 

Walk away from deceit,

rather knowing life is a feat.