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

Relentless Passion

In hers a quiet world would she live

Each morning routine an evening of peace.

Sunrise walks with only love to give

a family, her children, her silent release.

~

His would be a need for truth in her

struggle to be she asked, a simple life

Not this constant caressing a trigger

shoot holes in her wall, cut like a knife.

~

She would her bootstraps always taut

a world of indifference, a learned trait,

one person is love, another still taught,

feel respect, to watch, might she create.

~

His was soon to be a battle in his mind

hers a simple ask me to live alone

causing him to feel this constant bind

to know quick, dynamics already known.

~

Would she, could she, soon enough relent

His own idealism she wanted to prevent.


©️ Thom Amundsen 7/2021

The Rains

I sat with a desk lamp nearby

listening to the rains,

I knew clearly the reason why

this forest maintains

~

such wonderful animations in the mind,

a forest may the soul in peace unwind.

~

Earlier in the afternoon sunlight

before the setting of dusk,

I watched the clouds in plumes might

settle into a natural melodic busk.

~

I listened to the rains and next the tears

would speak quiet to my mind

wishing only might I ever quell fears

shook her away to rewind

~

Yet I couldn’t help but wish such beauty

might hold promise to love

as would the sound of rains serenely

slicing through the skies above…

~

Such wonderful animations in the mind

a forest may the soul in peace unwind.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021 

Remember Once

There was this book-bag


seemed to hold a truth


some passionate memory


like a one


I could be there I


felt you near me


wanting only your love


and your shared eyes


ours together


we could cry and still


know the truth

~

My path is my own


I am happy to share as long


as you wish to know me


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Changing Paths – I Still Do

We all know what we believe

in the moment

as we breathe the air around us

would our lives begin to rush

beyond the truth of

what is love,

what lays within our heart,

how does the soul feel sweet reckoning.

~

I have experience in the truth of

changing paths

listened to fear

tried to understand reasoning

when even so, there is one person involved

in the mindset of two,

there is the quandary between me and you.

~

Your fear of changing my path,

if you study the real

then might you possibly feel the beauty

of one’s sacrifice to know life with the other,

to completely give ourselves

to one another.

~

I did love you, and I was willing to go anywhere

your desire would wish enhance our passion.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Wishing Dreams

A spirit guide might visit a passion

setting in stride life’s beauty is a ride.

Yet time does wait upon internal

remnants churning within my psyche.

While outside lives a life of pleasantry

agreeable acceptance and absolutes,

if only the traveling disdain subside.

Would then wishful dreams pass forward

an energy with love could line a reel.

May then we be happy with our fate.

May then lives a sigh for love too late.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Stories we remember

Though time may seem immediate

with passing turn hours, those minute

moments help define the way.

A certain glance, a look, a kiss

would thrill the heart of any man,

surely who might long refrain.

Setting where two people held kiss

an indiscretion speak sweet nostalgic

the world churning without a guess.

She stole his heart on that winter morning,

the angels, a week’s calendar breathing.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Two Soul

We did when once

held eyes

then spoke of feeling blessed.

We asked each other

if that held inside

matched each other.

Would wits in unison

strike gold or a stricken fever

would be the natural course of love

when fraught with fear

the flip-side will

prevail.

We spoke of time in a sudden fantasy

turn only foreign sentiment

to realize today,

hearts aligned would still wander

in some vacant stereo of emotion.

Within the truth of love

two souls find one.


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Sitting Around In Summertime

I was thinking about the other night

when the sun shined in my apartment,

slats creating patterns across the woodwork.

I thought I might rather watch them fade across the walls

then close the shudders when in the evening

I no longer wondered about the outside

only that happening in here tonight.

~

Seems there are changes ahead I can see

only recently have the words begun to make any sense

thinking about what might be out there

along with figuring out who I might be.

I see the warmer temperatures start to surround our days,

attractive in their symbolic nature of settling our soul

letting life fill our hearts as is love in her manner.

~

I know that you can see … everyone in their own lives

going about the business of being who we might be,

perhaps that we wanted all along and only later,

later in life when we had to know, then we began.

See it is that quiet fountain of life we seek

sometimes seeing it in the shadows

always nervous of being exposed in stark light of day.

~

I think I will try to take a walk today, maybe a bicycle ride,

perhaps just breathe a little differently than the other night.


© Thom Amundsen 5/2021

~

Wander Away At 60

I wonder sometimes,

the rains outside no different than they ever can be,

paint the ground with symbolic elements

of nature,

if we could all just walk away

hang out in the woods,

stay alone away from carrying on

misinterpretations of what it is we might

have once realized and then,

well the time,

watch on a wrist

following every second,

the minutes go by until the hours

days and weeks, the months,

now years,

still standing here, frozen in the moment,

decades of speculation

without ever really understanding why,

just why, why, what is the why

that keeps me wandering always wishing,

only realizing after the rains have gone away,

the ground is dry without that fresh cleansing air,

the sort you might feel when letting the floodgates

step outside of our own control,

wander away now,

keep going for there isn’t a lot of recall,

once the bricks have been laid,

their heavy landscape a constant reminder,

something the water cannot truly

wash away.


© Thom Amundsen 4/2021