All These Voices

Thoughtful serenades fill an empty room

no one looking just the me and mine.

He wonders if it is always such gloom

or are we left without our favorite wine.

~

Seems the cadence of our party restrained

by motive, by aspiration, by silent neglect.

When race horses begin, know what is gained

yet miss a step and it is a horror so perfect.

~

Want to tell all the voices to leave my head alone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

can’t stand the berated tone.

~

The next time he stood alone at the precipice

He wished some sort of respite from his world.

Everything he had seemed suddenly at risk

He thought again and then his mind he twirled.

~

can’t stand the berated tone

out of my head haunting clone

out of my head haunting clone


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Spontaneity In Crisis

Well it’s the tears really,

come out of nowhere,

set me in stone clearly

don’t want to live there.

~

Watching a television show

a melodramatic morning

in any mundane episode I go

tearing up and mourning.

~

Tearing up and mourning,

haven’t any idea what it might

mean, why it is this warning,

get my act together before night

~

fall, this constant departure

this need to somehow navigate.

My emotions are raw for sure

I wish I might sometimes relate.

~

Motives and opportunities

pass me by not out of reach

my own sadly, feigned scrutinies

are nothing the world will teach.

~

Have to find a way out of this dream.

Have to find a way out of this dream.

Spontaneity holds so much promise,

Have to find a way out of this dream.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Serendipity Is Love

Would that we might dance the night away

When once out of reach, our love found its way

If were to measure all the pain and suffering

Could not surpass, such is beauty our yearning.

~

Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat

A solo venture that would evade defeat

Perhaps it was alone, a quiet drum beat

Could we imagine such wonder our feat.

~

Now today there is memory, if the river walk

Across town we recall, a stroll, Isle of Fern

Red chairs and a gas fire pit, bolted, we’d talk

Memories pain the soul, hearts fear every turn.

~

I lived in this town for almost half my life

She did hers forever, and made it her life.

I would, I cannot recall a softer shade of blue

When one day for now I knew I was losing you.

~

Such a blessing it is to feel we are finally in love

When all the days, our lives, wander the stars above

Such is still that blessing when now the miles are long

When once counted upon, now the eyes cannot belong.

~

Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets

Perhaps I am alone, when now it is the drum beat quiets


© Thom Amundsen 9/2/2021

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

The Fires We Burn

I remember when I was a kid in the city

thought I had somehow stemmed the fire

that sense of an evident outlier mentality

haunted my mind forever life on a wire.

~

I began to age with a sense of forgiveness

for all those around me I might have hurt.

The person I always managed a swift miss,

my personality, like an old stain on my shirt.

~

I wanted only to live a life of some perchance

sense of wander that held creative lines

the sort we plead may always carry reliance,

even when times are tough, quiet whines.

~

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

I held my own in any audience though always brief

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

~

So I took to new travels only never leaving my mind

I could always find a way to survive the night

leaving behind all of the baggage I’d lest remind

if wanting to go forward with a living life I might.

~

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

I held my own in any audience though always brief

I was a walking testament of self-proclaimed grief

~

I wanted to find some new sort of glass of water

the one that didn’t ever contain a needy filter

~

I held my own in any audience though always brief.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

I Wish You Could Hear Me

Sometimes I try to find the right word

it’s like picking stars out of the sky,

I find myself wondering how absurd

it is to constantly be asking why.

~

She told me the truth of how she felt

I wouldn’t listen, she could only resist

There’s a sweet smile makes me melt

Instead of knowing, I would then insist

~

Sometimes late at night I have tears

I cannot figure out just this alone

away from the we without any fears,

need to find the together we had sown.

~

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love.

I felt all the stars in the sky speaking above.

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love.

All the words spoke nothing more about love.

~

I can feel her resistance and I cannot hear

words of denial when all I want is her

I stammer and stutter in my mind I fear

I’ve lost everything so evident I am sure.

~

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love

The other day I sent her a letter expressing my love

The other day I stopped yearning the truth in love.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

The Library

Here’s a song* I wrote for a dear friend – I’m sharing the lyrics with my readers:

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Many years pass and then we’re together

holding hands, we’re laughing again.

I remember a special reminder,

my laughter felt real back then.

~

You remind me of a time so lovely

your sweet elegance is what makes it happen

Any man would feel loved in your eyes

I know because – that was my when

~

I stand now alone in a wander

hoping somehow, someday you might see.

My heart aches, my soul wants to wonder

Someday, somehow we find our sea.

~

I remember a special reminder

now you’re walking away from me.

I was there on that library corner

we had eyes for each other didn’t we.

~

Hoping somehow, someday you might see,

could we someday find our sea.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

*I attended a song-writing camp last week that might have changed the direction of my life. I’ve wanted to translate my poetry into song for years, and I tasted that at this workshop. Now I have to learn how to play the guitar!

In the actual recording I am borrowing completely from Tom Petty’s instrumental genius on the acoustic guitar.