Slow Walk, Winter Night

For it was a chilly moment,

when while the sun began to set

I looked inside her eyes,

only to realize

hers would no longer shine

instead a sort of quiet resign.

~

Oh, we did smile many years ago,

and yet still

there seems this need of mine,

this tortured self fulfilling misery,

I must feel capable,

have some solace in knowing

I am not the loathsome man

I feel my internal self can be.

~

A slow walk on a wintry night,

to evaluate,

find my soul inside the crisp clear sky,

where dreams would happen

if only I might

know again the beauty of a starlit moment

holding fortune

holding fortune

in certain tender hands

a quiet peace of mind.


© Thom Amundsen 11/2020

A Distant Child

In a quiet state I would recognize the distance

Between the now of experience toward childhood

We might wish to have a redo on pain if we could

Seems a simple prospect to imagine all is chance.

 

When returning to some original memory in life

Oh to know the patterns that drove our own fight

Or flight, the summer weather such intrigue in light

Of finding ourselves amongst the massive strife

 

Inside a dream we could walk for miles in the sand

Feeling only the beauty of the sea carrying away our

Imagination, our intrigue with stepping beyond power

That illusion of knowing we could withstand demand

 

Live your life she said, he said the world in silent release

Would rather only our sanity to discover our own peace.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

What’s Really Happening

Ever wonder,

when you look them in the eye,

if their response

is a genuine effort to lie.

A mean-spirited man once said to me,

if you wait around, you die.

 

Ever wander

through a day and sigh,

just not sure how to complete a moment,

instead letting it pass,

by listening to the tick, a steady reminder,

of every lackluster effort

we decry.

 

Ever wonder,

what it is like to

find the answer

without actually recognizing why,

said the man,

to the other man,

who thought of the man,

to be lesser than

the Man.

The Obituary

I wonder how they felt it might read,

summing up their life,

in a nutshell,

passing through all of the bad times,

focus upon the good, the energy, the meaning,

the society we live in deems the necessary truths.

If we knew,

would we then change our mind,

if we could stand in the back of the church,

see the weeping eyes,

the countless expressions of confusion,

would we,

care.

 

I wonder what mine will say today,

as compared to years from now,

which would be more attractive,

the present reality

or that seeming legacy that time forgot,

only the pain did always remain,

a constant,

within even a moment of relief,

there would be the memory of how many times,

we might have,

he might have,

thought differently than to withstand

normalcy.

 

Oh the papers they might read,

and then in a week or two,

there his ashes would be spread.

Nostalgic Recall

Once a friend

Reminded me of time

When sitting alone

I realized

That way I’d remain

And yet glancing into the

Night sky

I imagined freedom

That knowing resistance

Doesn’t allow the blue

Feeling of abandonment

In quiet

Interference to remain

A single cloud shadows the moon.

 .

In that moment

The world continues

Rotating

The cycle

Circle of hope

All of our deepest fears

Will return with the next wave

Silence

And we cry with soft remorse

Not knowing the reality

Just understanding confusion

As a substitute for

Normalcy.

We are delightful creatures.

Our notions

Our paths

Our ideals

Recalled

As we experience a turmoil

Seeming despair

Outside of His hands

(We think too much)

We are compelled by

A knowing state of mind

“Been here before”

I shout out with a driven angst.

Cry for me

I delight in the pain

And it is mine

Cause by cause

I shall flounder

And the mind shifts

Sudden urgency

Piques our spiritual caravan

Again riding the crest.

Our new notion to survive

At its birthing.

“This really is me!”

Shout it again

And again and

-A ghastly reality-

It’s only Tuesday

And this mindset

Is sustaining mileage

Washing away hope

And settling in, in, in-

Decision.

A moment arrives to reconcile.

If I walk in fresh sand

I create a motion

That pours upon its self,

Allowing a remarkable

Change in the atmosphere.

Glancing back

I might suggest

I’ve noticed such imprints

And now memory remains.

A quiet resonant laughter

Emanates from my lips to reconcile

That eager bit of anticipation

In a moment memory of silent wrath

Walks me undeterred along a new path