Tag: rhythm

Common Fears

I have fears, they are frequent

I have moments I wish I could cry

I have fears, and they are frequent

Wonder how many years, will I sigh


Wonder how many years, will I try


I can’t stand to storm the thinking

When I weep I still feel connected

Times like this I wish life were blinding

Moments will pass, seconds undetected


Wonder how many years, will I try


I want to hang on to this forever

Was a light I might have seen in retrospect

Don’t want to let go, don’t want to ever

I wish only that she know my – this respect.


Wonder how many years, will I try


As bones and veins and heart might decline

I wonder about the truth of roses and wine

I know that life contains only time

Only facets of lives important to rhyme


Wonder how many years, will I try

Wonder how many years, will I try


© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

Grief In Funk

A steady beat

thump thump thought

Ever listen

only to lose yourself

this cadence constant

rhythm to ride.


Society has a blend

a sorted

compartmentalized need

to play a funk,

sense of liberty with our pace,

a silent reminder.


Then stands grief

alone and symbolic in its

quiet interlude,

a decision to make,

shall we go,

take the ride.


For we are a speculative herd

a cattle draw

similar virtues

lost in the crowd


the same.


Grief has a funk

grief funky grief

funk funk funk

grief, forgets a reason

simply plays the music

plays the muse

© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

A Circular Rhythm

We draw circles around a mask, our lives.

Each path we give another sweet facade

however might surmise such actions odd.

For we do covet a straight line that thrives.


Such is a world built as linear lines

meant for a passage without a defense.

acrid is a shelter by those who whence

internal facade sooner discard vines.


We stand inside the realm when given time

see such are the eyes of judgment are held

accountable of course our lives do weld

shapes and forms would eyes accept on a dime.


Oh strike us down in fraught shallow schism

It is such absurdity upsets rhythm



Finding A Rhythm

I use music,

depends upon the day,

usually something

upbeat, jazzy, message driven,

something to soothe

my soul,

it is the motive of a rhythm

to move the body,

let the mind follow,

let the whole of ourselves

become transfixed,

designed with the heart in sight.


We like to travel,


like to travel

go places well beyond

the space I am in,

rather than the physical nature

getting away,

I’d like rather to know

right here, right now,

I can go there, you might come here

in the span of a moment,

in the quiet serenade

of a bluesy melody.


‘Talk to me some more

you don’t have to go.’ – Phoebe Snow


Something to be said,

without having to find

the answer,

just a listen

follow the beat

listen to intention,

find some meaning

moves beyond the moment,

let’s you settle inside a memory,

perhaps a dream,

a fantasy,

let it take you somewhere


Haiku Pattern

brief quick respond sweet

while inside our hearts do meet

tick we solemn greet


want happy ending

searching for a new something

always in yearning


simple truths began

an early childhood plan

never fear the man


summer in sunset

a beautiful days only regret

what is chaos let


once in a happy smile

a positive energy awhile

outside peace beguile

Whisper Autumn

While skies begin a stretch of cooler winds

body seeming to recognize limits

each stepping stone, virtual time rescinds

calculate further storm than time admits.


A child witness color – aging leaves

headstrong emotions tacked upon crackles

like a midnight fire sparks ember heaves

slow to respond yet beauty sheds shackles.


Perhaps a few more days together walks

a couple in a distance twinkling lights

certain ambience listens, cadenced clocks

strike hours, minutes, gathering delights.


Shadows interact well the wintry skies.

Spiritual songs sound sweet mating cries.

Blues Journeyman

He would like to believe that he could,

give me the right idea he said,

let me sing a little melody,

let me believe I would.

Just trying to find my groove,

I speak to this, and listen to that,

I trust my instincts, and we all,

we all know about that.


I was standing outside alone,

when behind me with a roar,

appeared my reality,

and I couldn’t turn away,

instead, tried to look ahead,

without being noticed –

possibly heard what I wanted to,

to believe again,

to help me bleed again.


I was just trying to stay outside

the fabric of a sultry occasion,

when the skies fell apart

to reign down on me,

my momentum.


I crossed the street to find some silence again,

yet another avenue

charged my way with a vengeance,

some sort of attitude,

told me to never go away,

I’ll always wait here for you.

I believe in you said the words,

dancing in my head,

I believe,

I can know you better if you let me just

go ahead and grieve,

let the pain feel real bad.


Just then I felt a breeze,

an evening sky, with a slivered arm,

reaching upon my imagination,

my creativity seemed to glow,

even in the quietest moment,

when all around me,

I just wanted to know.

might I somehow have

misperceived my reality.


Living in a delusion,

let the blues take me along,

I’m a journeyman at best,

I’ll let B.B. tell me the rules,

while I try to dance near the blues.


Deep Thinker

Sometime, long ago while he was wishing for more,

a word crossed his lexicon

while a simple analogy

the eccentricity of normalcy

caused him a stir.

Always the wish for routine,

easy marks,

a leisurely stroll through challenges,

an alluring sanity,

might bore some, but for this man,

his desire to thrive got in the way of


Had to know, needed to show,

wanted to


want to fit in.

Do the sands your feet grace along the ocean waves,

feel the same to you as me,

or do they trigger a different reaction?

Might you think of home differently,

than the others

the thousands,

the minions who somewhere, some other time,

walked along the same grains,

wondering similar yet,

far different realities.

Well then it is true,

after all the thought and compelling advice,

we do want the same thing.

Yet who decides the depth of

any single

any collaborative,

any obligatory

journey toward the sun.

Wonder Wheel

A melody

in a state of mind,

a thought motivates

a certain disc,

recording, desire to hear

a nostalgic notion.

Used to be we would


lift the cover off our lives,

to keep the dust away,

listen for hours

to a melody that suggests

we live this way,

in a rhythmic trance,

a desired place,

a travel along simple horizons,

nothing complicated,

only the beat,

perhaps a lyrical ecstasy

would be our caveat.

I can remember every time

a song would bring back my life

to a place once before

where I was,

alone in a space of time,

suspended by that notion,

to some a disbelief

to me always,

a taste of promise.



I listen to notes,

take me on a certain journey,

could be jazz,

perhaps the Moody Blues,

another day with B.B. King.

I like to imagine being in the sailboat that appears,

when in the throes of Enya’s words.

I wonder sometimes where to go,

then find a melody, a certain ambience,

to match the cadence of my mood today.

I find I am lost in curiosity,

when just the flutes appear to soften the blow

of my mind’s hard fought surrender to reality.

Inside the fantasy,

of certain rhythm, perhaps just a nostalgic memory,

I’m bound to finish the exercise of definition.

That moment,

that circle in time,

brings me back to where I had begun

another time before I recalled,

this place I am today.

With music,


I suspend my



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