Although
giving is
a joy,
reciprocation
is not only
blissful
but also more
productive
(by Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)
Author: Byungafallgren
Love Like Mountain Snow
I settle for the winter,
embracing the nature
tucked beneath me
dreams of spring.
Windy nights, a part of
me rest at your window,
watch you in winter repose.
In spring I tremble with joy of
my journey for you,
streaming down the hills
to quench your thirst
to moisten the pasture,
wheat fields then to
the lake where you swim after
the long days of toil in the field
or wrangling the cows and calves.
I’m a soothing agent for your body
and soul till my last drop vaporize.
*
This sort of one way love can be called unconditional love, which is parental love. Love between man and woman is two-way love, of course. They have to love each other, not only one sided. And no one argue about that because it works that way. So, nowadays, unconditional love between different sex is considered to be un-smart or foolish by many. But long ago in Korea, even other parts of the world, such a love, especially in women, was not uncommon. Woman like that was considered to be a graceful prude.
Watching the snow-capped mountain, I thought about the unconditional love between man and woman. Is that really extinct specie? Depends on individual and circumstance, it may still alive somewhere in this world? I haven’t researched on that so I’m not sure. If there is, I would call her or him a Jewel, not a fool.
(By Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)
Transit
She remembers
the golden beam
when she was a little girl
The soft, warm touch on her
goose flesh, like Mom’s caress
It lost the tenderness now
Gentle yet prickly, thought provoking,
leading her eyes to the far side where
the little girl slid into the thirteen-winged
creature broods in wonder, yearning
and reaching for the glimmer in
the spring mists, untouchable yet
beckons, tantalizing enticement
She folds the wing momentarily,
lulls in the olden beam, aware of
the rawness calls for an ardent preparation
When the feathers matured, gained knowledge
she will search for the vision
beyond the hazy horizon
(by Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)
Flamingo
Deep inside her
lives her ancestor
yearning for the
ancient habitat yet
she strives to adapt
herself to the new haven
like a shy child at the
new foster home
Her perpetual blush
turns gold, drenched in
sunlights and praises
her image mirrored in
the dark water below
Studying her lovely reflection,
she apprehends all about it
If every birth has a purpose
So does a flamingo’s
(Photo by Rose Rohlfing Pennel
Poem by Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)
Lilt
With busy routine, she’s numb
For fleeting seasons, lost in the
little corner of the world
A sudden death of the editor
Or friend rattles the insipidity
She ponders in sadness, anxiety
Stubborn melancholia
She shuts down the computer, takes
A stroll by the creek, following the
Footprints have gone before her
Wonders if this ancient habits
Has lifted their spirits
The farther she takes each step,
The lighter the next one, lilt aloft
Essential to sustain her optimum
She takes deep inhale of
The fragrance of it all
(by Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com)
Vaster than the Ocean
I remember you said
we are eternal lovers in
the same boat in the vast sea
How delusional I was to stray away
from you for the bewitching passerby
Boyish infatuation deserves to be
tossed into the bottomless water
Tears of regret induce the sea rise
Into the dreary solitude appears
the manifestation of forgiveness of love
that’s deeper and vaster than the ocean
Now I know what you mean to me, dearest
You are my only love-star in the whole universe
A Child’s Cry
You say you have a big heart
If so, don’t deport our parents
They were young dreamers
Searching for better lifetime
Like the pilgrims once did
They spent youthful years
Toiling and raising family
Now that their hair turn gray
And their children in schools
Please let them stay right here
In the land that has nurtured us
One that we have grown to love
Build wall for illegal ones now
Never banish the old settlers
Do not separate us from our
Parents, siblings in sombrero
We need home to return after
School like any other children
(2-22-17. By Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com)
Poems / Minds
A well known, late poet once said in an article, “If English is your second language, don’t write poems. Instead, write fiction.” I understood what he meant. But I didn’t agree with him because I had read well-written poems by poets to whom English is the second language. However, I took his word and wrote novels. Writing poems is not my forte, anyway. Still, I could not avoid the fun of writing poems. And with a good reason.
Some people say that they don’t know how to write a poem. To me, there’s no such thing as how to write a poem, unless it is formatted one. Writing formatted poems is not my favorite, mostly because I don’t want to deal with cadence, stanza, meter, feet and foot, etc. To some degree, I do though. A poem is the expression of your feeling and thought. I write down my feeling and call it a poem.
They say poems are worthless. You cannot make a living by writing poems. True. But a poem is an elevated form of your expression. Writing poems not only calms you, but also enhances your soul. No doubt, great poems move your mind with profound beauty. Needless to mention, writing poems or reading has its own reward.
Considering that, I think beginning from Middle Grade, if not earlier, teachers should encourage the students to write at least ONE POEM A DAY. So they can have a moment of reflecting their problems and figure out how to solve them. Everyone knows bottled up emotions often lead to a mental illness. That’s why we see so many killing incidents at schools and else where. Gun control policy alone doesn’t prevent the crimes. How about we use a psychological strategy, like the one upper mentioned and more? Stop the crimes by treating the core problems–the MINDS, especially the poetry-deprived minds. (Poetry-deprived minds are not necessarily people who doesn’t read or write poetry. They are apathetic people with no respect for other people’s right and law.)
(By Byung A. Fallgren. Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)
Oxymoron of the Days
I was in the crowd
Feeling desolate
No one noticed me
Until I spoke
I’m alone in evenings
With invisible companions
Chatting and laughing
Through emails and websites
I work at home solitary
No hector, no tittle-tattle
I get done works given to me
Which is a part of whole of every one’s
(by Byung A. Fallgren. byungafallgren.wordpress.com)
The New Chief
The unusual agony
of the election year
Birth of the unconventional chief
Some of his issues
and promises
call for outlandish dreams
A word of solace
he’s not a king
The stars wish him the best journey
(2-1-2017. by Byung A. Fallgren. byungafallgen.wordpress.com)
Byung A. Fallgren 