Mother Nature
dumped the snow
on our car
telling us
to relax at home
This happened a couple of weeks ago. It’s not timely but
decided to post it anyway because I’m still mad at the weather
that screwed the weekend plan.
© Byung A. Fallgren
Author: Byungafallgren
On pleasing you
I don’t try to please you, I
please me not selfish way,
some golden honey still left
in the comb. Altruistic love,
akin to sacrifice I distance,
for when I wither in thirst
great gift I may have later
for you will be lost. I endure
your mournful sigh, seeing
me in wintery silence of
spring meditation, until
the day I dazzle you in lovely
dress in sweet breeze of May.
Now and then, I enjoy
making you smile, like
snow-clad lilac shrub.
© Byung A. Fallgren
Shrunken moon?
tonight’s moon
appears shrunken
reminding us
of eroding
Earth
© Byung A. Fallgren
Snowstorm on juniper
Not the fool’s game of
Oppression, innocuous
Horseback ride of March
Hear the rider’s giggles
Hums of the horse
Songs of nature
Philly wishes for the
Golden sunbeam of
April lifts the rascals
She’s endured summer
Gust and the storm
Why more pain?
Winter admonishes
Strive to rise will free
Her from the oppressor
© Byung A. Fallgren
Everywhere silent inspiration
carpet of flower
wads of paper
brooding mistakes
muted as the silver moon
silent inspiration
©Byung A. Fallgren
Ineffectual persuasion is like…
trying to
convince one
it’s a silver coin
on a tree branch
when it’s moon
caught on faulty lens
© Byung A. Fallgren
Renewing
© Byung A. Fallgren
Walking alone
We usually walk alone,
savoring the purposeful
loneliness, mind private
affairs woven in
complicated web,
tread on the chosen line,
toward the point of
renewal, keeping an eye
on self-invited
companion raping
vulnerable brain.
We walk together with
opined moon and the
dancing lamp light,
yet we walk alone.
© Byung A. Fallgren
neighborhood love / hillside
boulders and pines
reciprocate
with moisture
and shade
like good neighbors
©Byung A. Fallgren
Transition/the shack
Shadows of yesteryears
unseen, moans of pains,
toils, hopes echo, muted.
Cold winter days
faded into the longed
glory earned, leaving the
shack behind, wishful thought,
not cloud vain, wordless wind.
The empty dwelling embraces
the memory lived, dreamed.
As the star’s song of happy
ending fades, golden
sunbeam cheers the new
beginning of the season, lifts
the spirit of the passerby.
© Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 