Tag: Poetry

The Rain

Water dripped and tapped a window pane

the opaque look of a morning blue.

Sitting now in front of a fire crackle,

imagining just how short a life we lead.

I drew myself closer to the glass

that sheltered me from the damp.

I wondered about those that might

spend their night chilled, and wet and sad.

The rain would continue through evening,

and I would watch the night envelop my dawn.

There is a crystal ball lays inside a lull,

a rainstorm lets us breathe and feel,

so in the rains one day when we wake,

we find some quiet solace in its wake.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2022

deep seeded versions

I want to know how you are, and not the gift wrapped version.

I’d like the truth not the ‘suck it up buttercup’ trend.

I wish one day you might listen to me rather than just what you want to hear.

I hope I might see you again someday and not just simply who you want to show me.

I think love is real and we prove that by being so unrealistic today.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

She Wanted My Path

When first glance, our smiles filled the room

we couldn’t believe it true so we held fast,

didn’t want to let go just let things become,

and the fires began, the winds couldn’t last.

~

I wonder sometimes if it could have rained

sooner then the tears we now seem to know,

if instead our emotions could be restrained,

would we have somewhere together to go.

~

I don’t ever quite know the words I wish to use

I don’t ever quite know the words I wish to use

I wish she may look into my eyes, find my truths

~

The other day I thought about the riverwalk

a place where we did smile, a fire, red chairs,

we could laugh and play like kids and talk,

now all we do is fear, and love, no more dares.

~

I used to love to hold her in my arms at night

I would hold you in my arms again if … might.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Cues

I wish I might’ve been able to pick up on cues first or earlier, and still discussion …

Rather than forcing reality in my face, based upon my own failing indiscretion …

The beat goes on.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Texting My Death

I have found parallels these days

the manner by which I find

I need to compose myself some way

in the matter of letters that bind.

~

Seems every time I have a thought

triggers in my head will alarm

oh wait screams my mind so frought

with anxiety, now I fuel the storm.

~

If only the keyboard didn’t scream

Get on top of me and dream

If only the keyboard didn’t scream

Life would be simpler it would seem.

~

Since texting has killed my identity

I can’t fight this overwhelming fear,

this strive to lessen my scrutiny

would draw the darker side of me near.

~

If only the keyboard wouldn’t scream,

I might return to life in a sweet dream.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Waking Odyssey

Whole nature of ego

crashing down

waking a morning slow

choosing frown

let go

Let go

Start to drown

eating away confidence though

conscious of the crown

opening eyes in sunlight, embrace ego


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Once Did Love

Spoke to him the idle man

now sits alone a bar stool

seems becomes his friend.

All the others know the fool.

~

Once inside were a sweet dream,

a violin concerto plays his memory

soft her smile, serene did seem

a minute, together a forever melody.

~

If only then had he known today

might she have weathered the storm

ahead sensing his unraveling way.

Without explanation he lost form.

~

With no one looking the fool might cry

For then more simply it is a time to die.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021