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

Stepping Outside

A picture speaks a truth.

~

I danced alone happy,

the first time I could.

~

A conversation

a put down

a clarity of purpose

a scant reminder

~

A why do we do this

sort of thing

moment

that allows our lives

to become enthralled

by the ones that do.

~

A reckoning

when time slows

enough to wonder

about how simple

a decision

might be well after

consequence:

inherent trepidation.

~

A summer night

stars are out,

a full moon waning

sheds a sorrowful tear

on a quiet reality,

while we all enter

a continuum

that part of our lives

we could never …

but we did.

~

Another time

we revisit in hope

we might settle

a difference that

when recalled

did help us focus

on why we

hate reminders

~

Would we ever

again be able,

could we possibly

understand

just how far

we did stray.

~

A friend once said

they wished the world

could get along

without a fight.

~

We yelled each other’s name,

never did we speak again.

~

We didn’t try to look outside.