A Fallen Storm

The winds outside

speak with a low tone.

Might circle my mind

bring me inside their own

gale force.

This act of nature

seems necessary to help

all of us to understand

life, lives, our own …

As fragile as the leaves

dead in the fall

tossed randomly through the air

still holding – hoping – to a gentle end.

©️ Thom Amundsen 10/2020

Isolated Storm Clouds

See them and imagine the future,

an ominous purple haze of opportunity,

for it is the chaos of our lives,

allows change to overcome the static.


Seek a society of forgiveness,

the travels of pain sometime hidden,

yet the exposure to the elements

often a truly ominous test resilient.


When washed ashore in crude oil,

stains did seem to be eternal,

with each soaking, the mind,

nearly gave up on finding shelter.


It is in the addict’s eye

the storm will always remain,

it depends only upon a realization

that life contains sweet horizons.


We would only give attention

to the happiness we dwell upon,

a city scape, an ocean view,

a soft breeze in a given milieu.


The deep and threatening wall

of circumstance that will prevail

is only Nature’s manner of suggestion

we all would know to typically fall.

The Storm Outside

If when our hearts were sudden to be known

A storm awaits always that certain tone

Realize wherewith lives a comfort zone.

Remind us within serene starry sky

Moments when sudden spirit may shriek why

Weather the storm in Her protective eye.

A societal ill might suggest retreat

If when we willing regard own defeat,

that screams like brutal wind within rain’s sheet

layered upon waves that dance soft in daylight

the sun peeking through again that we might

know soon the splendor refreshing tonight

When that internal rage of circumstance

speaks loud, disguised, wrapped in shroud of pure chance

Panic Storms

the sky will not shake its grey clouds

seems a terrible reckoning

standing in the yard

watching the arc gradually move

knowing the danger exists

yet, not understanding how to move.

inside the hours of a day,

a storm can pass through with a wreckage

profound to our eyes.

much like that fury, relentless

in its swath across the valley

so might an anxious moment in my mind

strike fear in my heart with every turn.

for it is the simple truth of anxiety

like waiting out the pounding hail

that state of mind takes over

holds me like a strong wind against

a silent wall.

how might I break through the marble stone

of this imaginary space that steps in front of my

happiness, at every turn, little might the mind

do when lost in the flurry of the eye,

storm waters pour from reservoirs

while the desire to step forward becomes more muddied

with every notion of grasping the unknown.

We never quite understand the immense power

of Nature’s wrath on a pristine moment of clarity.

Storm Slumber Sonnet

That cacophony of sound rattles glass

shaking our soul in thunderous appeal

we are in awe of Nature’s own upper class

manner toward ruling human surreal.

Sleeping soundly and a crack of heaven

stirs our mind to rest as a flash ignites

with our eyes closed we will quiet listen

knowing our lives are in Her hand these nights

when the skies release their vineyard finest

shower of sweet tears that tease our desire.

When one will seek answers of Earth’s lament

confusion demands as God shapes a fire

We are here to withstand worthy concept

With life we learn favor while we accept.