The Partner
The travel bag, neat and ready,
still sits on the bed, as if waiting,
as if confused or mad.
That night, he had planed on
leaving in the early morning
for the high school reunion and more;
that was changed by my sudden
vertigo and fall; that night.
I couldn't rise but managed to say:
I need to see a doctor.
Admitting the state, he took me
to the E.R.; learned my B.P. pressure,
way up sky. Why? a crazy bird
no one knows where from.
The nurse's voice woke me from dozing.
Outside window, the lights of the city buildings;
on the horizon, orange dawn or sunset,
I could not tell.
Every three minutes, the automatic B.P. pressure
attached to my arm, shows the vital; the frantic angel.
Still too high, the nurse says, you need to stay
a couple of days.
At home, I'm sorry for the canceled trip,
I tell him. And thank you for your help.
Don't mention it, he says.
Isn't that what the partners do?
Yes, we are man and wife partners! I nod.
That night; had his plan on leaving,
five or six hours earlier; I, all alone,
fallen and could not get up; that night;
and he would have returned home changed.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Author: Byungafallgren
The Weekly Avocet
In Something Seems Great
In Something Seems Great
When an idea seems great but not on second thought,
rescue it; dress it round on the second visit.
Living oversea, away from my siblings,
my brother used to chauffer for me when I visit.
Aged and worn, the brother no more my rescuer.
Sis says he cannot greet you at the airport; when you visit.
Texting and Facetime are the only they can do for me;
they can still shop together, but for me no more visit.
Don't punish a person for being a venturous; you cannot stop.
Someday one will show up at your door; no surprise; one's visit.
I am not a ghost, your little old sis, with a new driver;
from the travel agency for my old days' visit.
©Byung A. Fallgren
The Weekly Avocet
The Argument
The Argument
Four-thirty in the morning, the next door woman yells,
Her children blubber; blubbering and yelling.
The cry echoes in the neighborhood. What's going on?
Getting ready for the camping trip. Dark valley ghosts yelling.
My parents used to argue often; I thought they'd divorce,
which didn't happen, but they continued on yelling.
My daughter and her hubby repeat the family tradition.
Suddenly for days they stop yelling.
Red rose plants appear in the little garden at the front door.
I never know why. I only pray the roses flourish; no yelling.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Above poem is another GHAZAL I am practicing. Ghazal is Arabic
poetic form, like sonnet, ghazal has strict rule requirement.
Pain
Pain
There are red-pain, amber-pain, and gray-pain;
as stabbing pain. headache, and dull pain.
Of all the pains, feeling no energy and sad (gray-pain)
can be ignored or considered as no pain.
My brother's plethora of white blood cells kills red cells;
whose condition, beyond treatable; feels gray-pain,
which can be confused as no pain. At the stage,
the doctor would say: keep him comfy as less pain.
Medical marijuana, why does he not try? Sis says,
not to worry, his son knows better, he has no pain.
I do not believe it. every illness comes with pain.
His son might know of the degree of his pain,
than me living in oversea. If so, fine, but not so to me.
What if he suffers in silence the pain?
As usual, my tummy growls, then swoosh, the pain passes;
it can be serious. Byung, see your doctor for the pain.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Above poem is GHAZAL, Arabic poetic form I'm interested in learning
lately. Like sonet, it has strict rule requirment, which I don't like, but as I do
practice, I find it fun.
The Weekly Avocet
Greenness
Greenness
Angelina Weld Grinke
Tell me is there anything lovelier,
Anything more quieting
than the green of little blade of grass
And the green of little leaves?
Is not each leaf a cool green hand,
Is not each blade of grass a mothering green finger,
Hushing the haeart that beats and beats and beats?
Angelina Weld Grinke born, born in Boston on February 27, 1880,
was a queer Harlem Renaissance poet and playwright.
She died on June 10, 1958.
Heart toughened
Heart toughened
Once in a year trip to see them,
might as well let it be the day
for the granddaughter's ballet recital,
perfumed by the lilac bloom.
Packing the suit case, with slow brewing
joy and Jun day scent; but
a strange, brief stench.
Sudden ringing of night phone;
heart churns with the daughter's
dismal voice: "We have a problem.
the septic revers flood the basement,"
(No wonder the stench.)
"If you still coming, stay in a motel, sorry."
My heart, calm as lake;
it's just a thrown stone on the lake;
my heart still recalls the midnight teen's
car event.
"Dad and I will be there. we've got to see
her perform, sweetheart."
the reversal stench flood;
the midnight police call;
toughened heart;
I can still sleep through all that!
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 