The little, lingering, white lies we allow
ourselves to live with (poems of 2011)
by Charles Portolano is an interesting ,
insightful poems.
Mr. Portolano is an Editor/Publisher of
The Avocet, a journal of nature poetry.
Please, feel free to click on the link below to read.
The little, lingering lies book
–Byung A.
Weekly Avocet is weekly magazine published by The Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry. As I support good environmentalists in any form I would like to spread The Avocet as often as I can. Also, I’m delighted to have my poem and some haikus published in this Weekly Avocet–#372. Thank you, Editor Charles for choosing my works.
Below is the link to Weekly Avocet–#372. Feel free to check it out.
The Weekly Avocet – #372
Byung A.
Good news, friends! my new book MYSTERY MAN’S DAUGHTER,
mystery/psychological thriller, is available for free
July 29 through August 3.
I need at least 40 friends who rate the book.
Thank you so much for your support.
Click the link below to get the book:
–Byung A. Fallgren
My new book MYSTERY MAN’S DAUGHTER, YA/mystery/
psychological thriller, is available in Amazon Kindle store!
To buy, click the link below.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TP63P2V.
Thank you.
—Byung A. Fallgren
My books are free beginning April 14 and end April 18.
Visit, https://www.amazon.com/author/byungfallgren.
Also, my new book “Mystery Man’s Daughter” will be
available soon!
—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
A week after I started working at the Perion Field One, Clive came to the prison to see me. “How do you like your job so far?” he asked.
“I like it better than being your assistant,” I said, glancing at his dark suit that matched his shiny dark hair.
With a cold smirk, he took a pack of cigarette from his coat pocket, lit one, took a deep inhale, and gazed at me through the smoke. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“Unless you accept my demands, I will stay here.”
He scoffed. “Our leader told me to teach you a lesson to be a loyal servant.”
“So, what are you going to do with me?”
“I could throw you into a torture chamber but I am too nice to do that. I don’t want to waste your quality, so…” he paused.
I waited for his next word, curious.
“You are not good enough to be my assistant. So, I recommend you to be a common security guard,” he said condescendingly.
“I can live with that. Where will I be working?”
“Let’s go,” he said, walking toward his vehicle.
(from THE SPACE HERMITS)
Looking out the tiny cell window, I saw several torabus, the Great Dane-like animals, at the edge of the field. Then a sudden whistle came from somewhere. Some inmate was trying to get the torabus’ attention? One torabu was moving toward the prison building and the rest trailed him.
When they came near my window I admired the magnificent creatures with their dark coats and folded wings glistening in the moonlight. They appeared a mixture of a Dane and a horse but much larger than a horse. The smallest one in the group turned its head to look at me with its intelligent looking eyes. I remembered that #268 didn’t like torabu’s meat. I understood him now. How can they eat such beautiful creatures?
The whistle blew again. The smallest one’s ear twitched at the sound as if he recognized the whistler. He glanced around. Seeing no one, he listened more. As the whistle stopped he flew away, the others following him.
(from THE SPACE HERMITS)
They sat next to each other at the airport
The baby in his mom’s lap fixed infectious
Gaze on the girl who had never seen
Others gave him
A smile
A dame next to the girl followed her eyes to
The baby and put a long frown on
The innocent face, turned her head
To another baby to stick a bright
Smile on him
The frowning woman, two different babies
The girl was troubled by the thoughts
What’s with the unfairness, lady?
Despite the dissimilar hue
Of their skins, the two are
Brothers
Open your eyes wider
And you’ll
See it
Many years later, the memory was still fresh
In the girl’s mind when she saw the dame
Now a stooped old woman and the baby
A man crossing
The road
With a screech, a car halted to a stop
At the hobbling woman’s foot the
Startled man turned and put
His arm around her back
A smile spread on the
Woman’s face
The girl’s eyes brimmed
The haunting memory
No more
The guard threw me a new empty bag. The filled bags were taken to the truck at the edge of the field. As my empty stomach growled I opened a perion-seed pod that was a-food long. There were green seeds that were thrice larger than the peas in it. I ate them. They were sweet and nutty. I ate some more.
“Don’t eat the seeds, you pig!” the Makumban guard barked.
I fought not to pulverize him, for I knew the consequence of my action. I didn’t want to be killed and become a wandering ghost in this field. Stay alive, Marlon.
“Eat this,” #268 gave me his sandwich from the bag.
“Keep it for yourself.”
“Come here,” he whispered to me, moving toward a nearby shady area where several pickers were smoking. He rolled the dried perion leaves in a piece of paper, grabbed a dried stick of perion branch from the ground and rubbed it vigorously against the side of his metal ankle-cuff. A minute later the stick burst into a flame. He put it to the rolled cigaret and puffed. “Perion stick is the best,” he said. “Other sticks don’t burn easily.”
I bent to feel my ankle-cuff. It was hot, heated by the scorching sun. My socks protected my skins from getting burn.
He gave me the cigaret but I didn’t take it. Perion-cigaret was highly addictive, stronger than marijuana. I used to smoke marijuana when I was in high school and knew it made me lazy and unmotivated. I didn’t want that now. I must stay sober if I want to survive.
“This is how we cope with our misery,” #268 said.
(from THE SPACE HERMITS)
