Tag: water

Quiet Stream

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Water ripples upon sun baked rocks

glints of morning light play music

the eyes of summertime.

~

If my line can land just beyond

above the current a soft settle

might then I borrow from the pools

a master swimmer lights my reel.

~

A fisherman’s catch not a single appeal,

those small boulders like fat circles

tease the walker stepping shallow

toward some distant pool.

~

The silence in the mind

serene is a sweet mystique

while River water flows past

shielded calves.

~

I will imagine the beauty of

a soft sensuality a spiritual

moment where lives are set free.

©️Thom Amundsen 5/2021

when the words don’t matter

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IMG_0220.jpg

Sitting by the shoreline,

the water fairly calm,

a sharp breeze enough to

suggest only the time of year.

 

watching seagulls swift past

the eery history of the mast

wondering just when waters

would ever tell me a secret.

 

I could listen for hours

while the sun began to dance

along soft waves of yesterday

sounds around me airily fast.

 

the birds, their legacy staid

by waning summer’s crying lead

in the autumn of these days,

the ones reminding time away.

 

I listen to Bob Dylan, a surreal croon

speaking of wanting ways

wishing time would forever sway,

‘Blood on the Tracks’ seems to say …

 

Inside this visual macabre

Our surreal horizon rob.

Choosing the Listener

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I wonder if it is so easy to recognize

the sweet recall of one time being heard,

when it could be felt,

when word might resonate,

walking along a creek,

listening, the water gurgling forward,

a purpose, a design, an always,

and me,

the quiet remedy to a vacant stare

watching, wondering, hoping,

waiting really

for some reason to pop out of the water

look me in the eye,

suggest the body of life

is the constant flow,

that no matter how far we trail our lives

there is always going to be a need

to continue seeking reason

we stay afloat,

watch the channels change,

the soil erupt from a pressure beyond

themselves,

only a part of the whole.

The Water’s Edge

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I’ve often stood here,

Seeing the glass,

Mystique

Is nature’s remedy

 

A soft whispering cacophony

Waves sing forever,

In the trees they are listening,

Chanting,

Living in sweet serenity

 

Oh to know the mystery

What lies ahead

Is in the arms of a cradled soul

So distant yet near

We are all inside memory.

 

A shadowy horizon

The eye is lost in fantasy

The beauty of time

I’ve often stood here

Once A Day

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On a clear evening,

I did see you,

stellar and large in your elegance,

a natural form of my humility,

glancing my way,

holding court with the world beyond

my eyes.

Once when with pure energy,

your flash of brilliance,

spoke to the water,

trails illuminating a path toward eternity.

I will seek that trail surreal,

always curious,

forever wondering how life moves beyond,

the certainty of your grace,

energy on earth,

as we all are that needy,

in a constant state of usurping

the delight in knowing your soul

will always guide us,

whether sheltered or speaking

in a direct sunrise.

Sitting With You

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FullSizeRender
Lake Superior in Spring 2015

~

I have in morning at break of dawn,

while the afternoon plodded on,

I have in the evening watched your fury,

in the tides of settling sea I have looked.

~

Yet in all of your mystery,

I will look again for answers,

cast an eye upon your majesty

to realize I am again your visitor

~

The last rings of winter caress

your sides like clinging threads

on the frame of our shoulders,

only to recede when sunlight speaks.

~

yet you will continue to be the same,

a master of our universe, just waiting,

allowing many to traverse your skin,

if only to remain outside of your lair.

~

Those that have dared are nameless

to you, yet families grieve years later,

the depths of your mystique swallow

the kindest soul, the earnest fathers

~

I look out upon you as evening breaks,

watch the ring of clouds frame you tonight,

only beauty and exceptional grace come

to mind, as I again, wait for your answers.

~

your history is timeless, the merchants that pass

through your waters, daily, searching their souls,

we stand on the shoreline without ownership.

I stand alone wishing you might one day speak.

Occasional Tears

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Those moments

when sitting alone in the room,

an idea crosses my mind,

shall the rivers be released.

~

From a quiet distant embankment

when the waters begin to tide

the soil allows moisture

new ground to intermingle

~

We have a common need

to communicate with each

other along the way,

to assure one another’s shelter.

~

Yet, winds will prevail,

that with their sudden gusts

like God’s hand sweeping across

the fertile land.

~

I look behind and can see

the water caress the landscape

I know now why my hillside

dampens with the coming rains

~

When in those lost moments

my mind runs astray

the skies soft rains

allow me the time to stay

~

We can learn from our vulnerability

our world breathes like a morning rain.

Humility

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humility

Our life blood,

really is what defines us

only if we want to

accept our frailty

rather than relish upon our

success;

those opportunities

that life’s challenges sometime

suppress.

Or do we, when caught up in

being,

ever question that reality,

that desire,

that drive,

that what is it some quest

someone yelled to me on the diving board

where’s your motivation,

just jump joker.

So I did, they didn’t, I dove, they stayed above, I swam

they watched.

Have you ever looked at the world while wading?

Underwater

figures that don’t appear real

waving before your eyes

as if

perhaps

one might decide they’re less important

figures of fantasy

having no bearing on our present

humility.

Ah, to recognize

how shallow our world can become

when ignorance decides upon our outcome.

Live strong, breathe genuine,

let the truth hurt while finding love.