We do
Touch hearts
Any motive in our mind
Is meant as something new
A fondness
A memory
A radio song
We touch each other’s heart
Its meaning, why we do
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.
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