Yesterday’s passion is
too precious to let go
down stream without
some fruition
every bit of our effort
tucked in beneath the ice,
we reflect, re-plan, assure
the low hanging clouds
final solution
failure, the necessary villain
on the path, ignore offering hands;
no one knows us better
than we do
more of ardent shift and turn
grasp the thread, and we are glad
we haven’t let it slide by
Photo, written by Byung A. Fallgren
All my youth I’ve been
searching for my dream
in the sea of blue world
Now that I’m old-young
still I’m hoping
A masochist or
placid idiot, I don’t care
what they say
My endeavor will go on
until the sea turns into me and
I, the sea, for all I have is the
tenacity.
by Byung A. Fallgren
Despite my deny
my mind
is a sailboat
without wind
when you are gone
— Byung A. Fallgren
Recently I've received an acceptance letter and a publishing contract from the publisher to whom I've submitted my book manuscript. Brief joy evaporated as I read the contract. It says that I market the book with my own expense, reasoning that the book has been published before. When? Then I realized that they meant the book campaign I ran on Kindle Scout a month ago. Before running the campaign, I had thought I should find a literary agent or publisher first. But I didn't want to wait a few months to get a response from them. So I ran the campaign unsuccesfully which turned out to be a pitfall that hinders my effort to find a publisher. This publisher wants e-book publishing right also. I've converted my manuscript into an ebook format myself, and I want to keep e-book publishing right to myself. So I've decided not to sign the contract. I've published it with Amazon. The editor of the publishing company says that my book Infinite Deluge resonates. To buy the book, please click the link below Thank you so much for your support.
by Byung A. Fallgren
When they were a young couple
they often squabbled like children,
found more hidden lint balls
than music in each other, yet
they were the tree branches
swinging in the wind, tangled
together, inseparable,
as the middle age rolled in their old habits
whittled away, overlooked the furrows of
wrinkles, watched in awe the wispy clouds
of graying hair,
with the midlife slips to the threshold
of golden years, their hearts tend to
skip beating at each other’s pain, smile at the
tufts of hair out growing of his ears or
at her spotty hands like quail’s egg,
after all the years of
arduous hills and
treacherous rivers,
they’ve turned to the
couple of doves, cooing,
perched on their favorite branch
in the late afternoon sun.
According to statistics, nowadays nearly half of all the marriages fail. Divorce is necessary for some, while others can be worked out. Some I leaned through their stories are heartwarming that I wanted to write the tributary lines for them.
By Byung A. Fallgren
Pricks of acacia thorns
swallowed, tossed into
the back of time,
brews youth once more,
wishful, playful glance back
at the memory of
the first love affair in lilac aroma,
rises as a wispy feather
weathered, faded, yet
the long story of yesterday
tucked in each fold,
with the serene pride
of cobalt-blue sky,
navigates space of time ahead,
subdued, balmy, settled and
carefree as the splendor
on the gold cottonwood leaves
in October afternoon sun.
© by Byung A. Fallgren
it evokes anxiety like having
an unstable lover, yet
brings hopes like return of
old associates, yet again
the word alone can’t make shy ones
to initiate reaching out,
how unproductive and suffocating it would be
without fluidness in our lives
where everything’s firm as boulder,
fluid, flow like river…change,
despite its shady side, it’s one of the
staunch friends of our civilization;
we prosper in the sea of fluidness
of ourselves.
Sometimes I explore words to get inspiration to write and post; it’s one of
the ways to solve my writer’s block. –Byung A. Fallgren
Hard rock in the fist
crumbles, slip through
between the fingers,
gentle wave moves in,
lift spirit in realization
of the trivia.
A bit of wisdom blooms
in the dark,
reaches out for what’s lost,
what’s needed,
take a side glance at
the meteoroids
searching for new in space,
leaving memories behind.
Wave them transitory farewell.
With a smile greet
the ones returning to mingle.
By Byung A. Fallgren
Dressed in the silver shirts,
purple and yellow
button down green cloaks,
we perform for the music festival
at the sunny hillside for everyone.
*
I adore your delicate beauty
you revere my magnificence,
I am steady
you are fluid.
We breathe and absorb our
very own unique essence,
silver and purple
soft and hard
to be what we are,
yet we are for one another,
embrace the beauty of
our harmonious nature,
let the dusty wind pass by,
share the moisture.
In our better days we
brighten the languid souls,
soften callouses,
let ourselves reach
our possible best.
By Byung A. Fallgren
Under the pastel sky of
twilight and the pale moon,
hometown’s evening settles,
stirring the memory of yesterday,
calm, melancholic,
ponder about the fate of
driving back for so long
every evening.
Whatever her intention of
greeting in such mellow
stories painted in the sky,
yesterday’s sorrow scatters
in the evening breeze.
Deep inhale of the
new brighter day.
With sweet anticipation,
we return home to our loved ones.
Photo, written by Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 