Tag: time

A Sunny Day

Rays of light peek through shuttered windows

shall the slats be opened or assure privacy,

a morning of which one surely glows

the energy blocked would be a travesty.


At my desk I look for inspiration

seems the night put aside

for the moment is more solution

to dredging horrors inside.


If present means a slow journey

then this my day would tell

a starting point with no hurry

only desire deep in the well.


I would climb if love awaits me

or choose to find what must be.

© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

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

If She Knew

There in the wind lays definition,

she called them changing winds.

If we could recreate days of passion

perhaps then love properly gleaned.


Yet days and hours of time forgotten,

though symbolic reminders lay about

we could in simple terms relive again.

Beauty in circumstance beyond doubt.


Oh follow me on this our sensual journey

Oh follow me is this our sensual journey

Oh follow me will be our sensual journey


For it is the two of us no longer paired

though in our time so loved had we dared.

Go on and on and on as well we cared,

yes love does happen practiced and paired.


Oh follow me in this our constant journey.


© Thom Amundsen 10/1

Waiting Now

If only a lifetime lasted forever

then now could become a yesterday,

a lost moment brings everyone together.

Yet why then must we all act this way.


It would seem lives are meant forgotten

rather than holding beauty inside moments,

so quick we are to run away, call it rotten.

We somehow imagine now this our lament


Our lives holding only so many truths we hear,

yet time and again we might feel too near.

Our lives holding only so many truths we hear,

yet time and again we will feel that fear.


Yet time and again we would feel too near.


© Thom Amundsen 10/1

Living Lost

For a long time,

could almost count the

hours and hours and hours

we all have them

the knowledge that one day,

all of our utter


will wake you from a dream

so you may glance back

only to say

what if.

© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Out of the Mind

Comes this fairy tale

some would call it

a fast and friendly gale

of why whenever might

our soul in peace prevail

change will be our writ.


Seems clear we see life

as a partial of our being

always in question is life

though some are arguing

doesn’t matter this strife

we are meant for living.


I walked outside of myself

for weeks, needs on a shelf


When once had confidence

been thought our middle name

we unravel so much by chance

we can never really, our game

always the question we enhance

lost inside a dream, lose our aim.


It wasn’t until yesterday

I could remember again,

what was ahead of my day

not ever today could I gain

semblance, a peaceful way

know in woe ever refrain.


I walked outside of myself

for weeks, needs, on a shelf

© 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

The Lives We Lead

I turned a corner the other day, received some applause.

Remember imagining there was not anything in our way

when now we give in to our ideals, this harmonic pause

we could only stand alone remembering, day after day.


There was a dance floor in town where everybody showed

their moves, their needs, their wants, their satisfying eyes

it was there on Saturday nights when everybody glowed

yet there we were dancing, quieting our fear in disguise.


When did we become what our parents all might dream

that someday our hearts would carry a soul in our hands

When did we become what our parents all might dream

For it is always true we live out the memory love demands


It is hard to trace the steps, the Jitterbug we all remember

an onset of adult life motions, we created dance together.

© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Once Did Love

Spoke to him the idle man

now sits alone a bar stool

seems becomes his friend.

All the others know the fool.


Once inside were a sweet dream,

a violin concerto plays his memory

soft her smile, serene did seem

a minute, together a forever melody.


If only then had he known today

might she have weathered the storm

ahead sensing his unraveling way.

Without explanation he lost form.


With no one looking the fool might cry

For then more simply it is a time to die.

©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021