Beach Tree
I was an oldish on a yellow beach,
Watching the distant tree dotting
Along the horizon, dreaming to reach.
One day, bull-wind knocked me flat,
Forcing me to kiss forever the sandy shore.
Luckily my heart is in my root,
Keeps me alive and toot.
In whatever the position I am, I can still thrive.
©Byung A. Fallgren
In the morning sunbeam a gentle rider,
In the afternoon a dopy teen driver
Speeding hundred mils an hour,
Crosses over the lane,
Nearly missing collision and
Hurling a camper and a semis
Into the air.
Terrified drivers slam on the brake
To avoid the wrecked camper flying
Across the road, in the midair exploding.
Luckily no one got hurt that day.
You are a whimsical and violent
Boy overgrown,
Whom we can learn to live with. Yet,
You are gentler than Florida hurricane
Or costal states’ tsunami.
You are a King of wind farm.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Clouds echoes
The boats on the lake
Sprinkling their particles below
And watch them glitter
In the little flames of
Weekdays’ fatigue
Music of festive weekend
©Byung A. Fallgren
‘Layer upon layer of
Years of knowledge
Wouldn’t be enough
To see the unknown
On the horizon,
Without
experience
Wisdom
Being a student
Of great mind,’
Says the sun,
Scorning the stone man
Who thinks he’s perfect,
Not knowing his fate of
Being toppled down by wind.
©Byung A. Fallgren
He fished and
I ambled to
The Raptor’s Bluff.
On the path
Lay a baby snake
Broken back bleeding,
Squirmed in an effort
To get away,
But its lower body
Wouldn’t budge.
I moved away, wordless.
Image of the beady eyes in fear
Stirs in my mind
Every time I strolled up the path.
One of those what seems
To be trivial
Yet sinks deep in memory.
© Byung A. Fallgren
We dream
Sweat
Bloom
Leave fruits behind
Or nothing at all
Then exhale a big sigh
Amazed by our bareness
Within
Appearance
Abundance or want is
A matter of past
Passing wind tolerable
Evening pensive
Morning sun seems
More profound
©Byung A. Fallgren
Like brush stroke of
Fine artist
Wave left on the shore
Her print,
Ignoring its state
Ephemeral,
Or no one ever see
Her work.
Is it not
True artist spirit?
©Byung A. Fallgren
Once I drove along side the river
On my left, with curiosity of a lass.
Loved what you showed me:
Twinkling river-stars,
Smooth jade sashes with
Tagging love boats,
Which soothes eyes as the
Imagination does on mind
Till they slipped away without
the peripheral view. Then
You swung ’round to reverse the course,
Heading back in the direction of where I started!
As if to admonish me truth yet to be perceived.
With the river to my right, I doubted
Your motive of entertaining my right arm.
You let the breeze kiss the trees,
Played with the river hide and seek,
And questioned her origin.
She pulled stealthily away from us,
Like pouting lover, scorning at our vagary.
Chuckle you did of flamboyant playboy,
Finally showing me the way to my destination.
And I was delighted by your ingenuity.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Old minds are like old horses, you must exercise them
if you wish to keep them in working order.
–John Quincy Adams
Gem of the days has arrived!
Heartache has ended.
Her firstborn son has flown home
To the beautiful land to join his family
From the island oversea where
She was born and grew on a coffee farm.
Grateful, she praises God.
‘Land of brave’ seems so right.
Big apple and strangers
Appear sweet and kind.
Her mind overflows with
Dreams and plans,
To achieve ‘Land of oppottunity’
Alive.
In their reunion I rejoice.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 