Tag Archives: waiting

There In The Deep Wood

Posted by thom amundsen on

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the lights on the house in the distance burn,

the figures inside I knew like my own,

in the damp soil, I would wait in the wood.

wondering if they would ever venture out,

would they wonder where I might next shout.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the cars travel by all strangers in the hour,

their lives meant for homes beyond my eye,

I would ask about their wonders and wanders

though I would never hear, just keep an eye

on their lives in the brief moments, passers by.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the stars illuminate a night sky in fall,

I might wonder about the earth in universe

watching all the patterns of the Milky Way,

there were so many, so brilliant their lives

though some I had known, others would fade.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

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When Wandering Headlights Weep

Posted by thom amundsen on

In picture windows across the world,

they watch, they stare, they sometimes

cry,

they’re the souls left alone to wonder,

watching the headlights streamline by,

like a slow motion ray of long wound

catapults of energy,

sweeping past the imagination

without waiting wanderers,

perhaps ne’er a question of why.

 

We all might wish to have that moment,

a second of their time,

screeching tires and suddenly

out the door, a person,

a human being assuredly defines the rapid

departure of any possibility

defining the time

we just watched sweep past our reality.

 

Yet for that next few hours,

she will, he might, and they’ll return,

to their security,

the picture window,

observing the reality with swift purpose,

motion by,

as if to recognize

there is no one waiting nearby,

only everyone lays ahead,

in the distance,

there’s the real reason why.

Night Tease

Posted by thom amundsen on

There are those moments we wish away

when the evening light begins to fade

we often haven’t got the time to remain

yet our lives are on hold, we might just say

the day’s preoccupations are now at bay

and we will soon begin another day

but ah, there is that sleep thing in the way

when wanting to simply avoid the pay

that may, we say, just delay

our chance to rest tonight.

For it is that final tease, that unsettling ease

we have with putting off our sleep

in order to solve the riddles at hand …

yet, we never seem to find a solution

we only exhaust ourselves that other way.

The Waiting

Posted by thom amundsen on

Tonight

While a fresh snow caresses

Every opportunity of land around me

I wonder in the quiet shelter

About the breeze that for me offers arousal

To my senses

Like a beating sun on a hot summer’s day

I recognize beauty in Nature’s

Extremes

~

Alone

My world is far different than yesterday

When every motive drove my heart

Towards goals beyond my reach

Only to allow my soul

To regenerate its fury, pride

Could be felt

While the quiet skies drift slow overhead

Absolute

~

Quiet

The fear that strays inside a mind

When voices remind us of our ills

Still is the night

When all of our ambitions

Become simple memory

Doors that close

Are only journeys that suggest

Challenge

~

Solitude

Is where our intellects seek peace,

When the day’s traffic of completion

The avenues of accomplishment become

Cluttered with material angst

Lost souls

Always remembered but now forgotten

Beauty may stir in our heart

Recognize

~

Homeless

In the arctic blast of winter’s wrath

Her mind remembers home or some

Different time when life could breathe

Yet tonight she will stay warm

Layers of resilience

Will melt away the tears

That pool in the earth below her soul

Elegance

~

Justice

May cry out to every walking soul

To bury the demons of wealth and avarice

Look to the hurting masses

The sacrifices of our society

Open our hearts

Tonight, tomorrow and through the budding

Of spring’s flower pretty to every eye

Surreal

~

We will be recognized when we lay ourselves buried

By the words they use to describe our truly kind soul