Mending a Near-broken Relationship

requires the cool mind of an artist,
keen eyes of a surgeon,
rightness of a judge.
If this sounds overwhelming,
just pretend to be one.

*

Who has not had a near-broken relationship in their lifetime, whether it is
a friendship or love-relationship? I have had more than once.
I would fix one that I want to keep. Luckily I have a natural knack for it.
I thank my god for that.

©Byung A. Fallgren

 

Ikebana Art

is the art of flower arranging. Through contemplation, creativity and discipline, like Ikebana offers the opportunity for observing deeply connecting with our natural world: cultivating the understanding and appreciation of
the natural growth of the plants and flowers and love of nature in all its phase.
The long history of Ikebana can be traced back to the 6^th century when Buddhism was introduced into Japan from China and Korea. Monks arranged flowers for alters to honor Buddha. Many schools evolved over the centuries. Currently it is taught and practiced in the worldwide community. –Norma Bradley, artist. (normabradley@gmail.com.)

   

**

Arranged Flowers 

We bloom once
bloom again
in silent songs
only you can hear.

©Byung A. Fallgren

 

 

 

When the Quarantine Syndrome Sneaks on You

Your eyes navigate the gray sea of Internet,
Skimming, yet nothing enters in your head,

As your mind drifts back and forth, past and now,
Trivial matters exaggerate, turbid, fester,

Your wife screams, you go berserk.
You are not alone. Take your family for a walk,

Wave to the passersby, smile or say hello.

© Byung A. Fallgren

Photo by Joe Murphy, Linda Holste, (joseph.f.murphy@vanderbilt.edu)
Sandhill Crane.

By now, most of people have adapted to the situations the pandemic
has brought, we like to think so. But truth is there are still many people, especially
younger people, are suffering from so called quarantine-syndrome. I’ve seen
some couples go berserk, talking about divorcing, etc.
Older people seemed to adjust to the time better, despite the vulnerability to
the virus–the benefit of aging. Yet, truth is I begin to feel I’ve had enough of this.
Ugh. Can’t wait…till next year…for the vaccine… But we have to do our best to
stay lucid, defeat the pandemic, and keep our home healthy.

 

My True Home

My pretty ex-wife
wants me back
but my home
is where my kid
lives with his/her loving mom.

*

My thoughts flow, often in fragments,
if I don’t stop it, it goes on nonstop. Above poem
is caught before flitting by. In writing poem you can use
any POV (she, he, it, they, I), disregarding your gender.
I don’t post my best poems. Nor do I post
the worst ones. I do whatever I feel like to.
I limit the time of getting on line so that I can do
other things: gardening, walking, reading, writing,
house chore, etc.

©Byung A. Fallgren

Forest Water Color
by Andrea Ferrari (aferrari@stmariy.edu.ar)

Time-lapsed clouds
roll like pigment on watered paper
blackgreywhite
dampening green, greening light.

Lichen eyes spread
their watch further, turn owls, merge
and defuse.

You tread the dark soil in rain
unafraid of thunder in the distance
going in
going into
a jungle of water
dissolving the edges of leaves
and trees
and you

sudden watercolor of the soul

Returning to the Road Failed Before

Young man’s whim dared to cross the road
with the deep chasm and muddy hill,
his jalopy sputtered, exhausted.
He turned to go back.

Decades later, having reached the top
of the hill of his reluctant choice yet
turned out just right, he looked back at

the rough road he once failed to cross.
The shinny pickup truck veered smoothly
the chasm and climbed the muddy hill, and
out to the open prairie so vast that the horizons
in all direction meet the cerulean blue sky.
He continues on the dirt road that cut through

the sagebrush prairie and snakes to the horizon,
arrives at the junction of two lonely roads
with no sign. He takes the road more traveled.
Miles later, he sees an old ranch house ahead. He
swings round to the other road overlooked earlier
leads to the highway that takes him home.

©Byung A. Fallgren