mid-June aroma of lilac with fading blooms midnight muse cottonwood seeds settle in an abandoned pot nearsighted plan a wasp flew in and out of the window, teasing the tomcat a dead wasp on the floor bird eggs in the pot won't grow into plants whimsical politics ©Byung A. Fallgren
Mommy's Boy for she's the one who gave you birth. No one blames for that. But do not confuse your wife with a housekeeper and nanny. She is a mother of your child. she deserves some respect. Please, do not ignore her and discuss family matter with your mom: when that happens habitually, and you call her unimaginable names when she points out your wrongdoing, you've got a serious problem; a male wasp with wayward wings; an emotionally crippled son of a bitch. But you don't want to get a therapy, nor divorce; you totally ignore how she feels; yet she stays in marriage for the sake of the child, embracing her bruised heart and pride, accepting your sickness. she cries like a poet, silent lament for you, twisted soul. Respect your wife for the sake of your beloved child as well. your shame knows. Grow up. ©Byung A. Fallgren
Garden Work Grany's energy and mood burst with the spring arrival, she'd put on a hat with the rainbow buttons sewed on it, grab the hoe and begins to work on her garden. When the green sprouts begin to emerge, she's getting ready for the days to spray pesticide; the image of little caterpillars eating her little darlings; her lips curl. She'd buy the best one and spray it over her babies. But wait; she pauses, thinking about the ground water pollution: pesticide and household cleaning agents can pollute our ground water sources. so, they must be used and disposed properly. That ain't my problem. She smiles. As the article: use the pesticide as instructed; don't pour the cleaning stuffs with water on the lawn or ground, and so on. Looking at her green garden, she ponders, what can be done more? Many things. For now, she'd tend the new greens; help them grow more. Garden Work is one of my three poems published in the Weekly Avocet--#497.
Spring Pasture She greets the old cowboy who shares tears and joys, loves her as the cows love the grass beneath the deep snow. The haystack grows low, as the days near the spring; she embraces the blue, seeing the cowboy moves his cows to the high country, where the blueberries bloom. She dons purple dress, put on a spring perfume, greets the doe and fawn. The old cowboy plans for the first harvest of hay, forgetting yesterday's sorrow of Wife perished of the COVID. She cheers him, wishes for the grass grow slow; blossoms stay longer. She enjoys May's gentle touch a bit better than the passion of July. She loves all the ups and sillies of spring. (This piece is one of my six poems appeared in the Weekly Avocet #491, May 1st, 2022.) --Byung A. Fallgren
My three poems appear in the Weekly Avocet--#497. Thank you, Charles, Vivian, for taking these pieces.
She'll be smarter, just like us
For my granddaughter
On a spring day, a couple of robins
decide to build a nest, by the fake owl
whose duty is to scare away woodpeckers
drilling holes in the wall.
What is in the bird-mind? Let the owl babysit
their chicks; smarter than John on the street.
They sing joyfully when the three chicks
emerged from the eggs; tell the owl to watch
their precious ones, while they search worms.
One night, an owl falls in love with the fake one,
then realizes he is wrong. But he finds the serendipity.
the three chicks in the nest.
The following day, the robins notice the empty nest.
In fury, she swoops over the cat scared and run away.
O-ho-ho, she laughs at the coward cat.
Sitting on the post, she grieves her lost chicks,
then flies away. Time to rebuild a new nest.
This time she will be smarter; just like us.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Pursuing the goal in doubt It's like a smile of no face. Smile back, for it is the only armor against the doubt. Go on, with all your might; dance along the dry river unknown, sing as the poet. In the end you are the wise one, or you don't do it. ©Byung A. Fallgren
My two poems View on the side of the Road and The Doe have been accepted for the Summer printed issue of The Avocet, a journal of Nature Poetry--2022. Thank you, Charles and Vivian for taking these pieces.
–Byung A.
Flying with the New Songs of the Clouds Being a minimalist, I used to throw a lot of things; caught in the frenzy of moment, some valuables would disappear; then panic, search in every hill and valley, like the mad woman in the dream. The selfie, with the idiotic smile, crumpled and trashed long ago, haunts, jeers: with the original one gone, no way to make another. lost not only the image but the time also, acting on impulse, the echo of the youthhood. Faces suddenly flash, gloat, for had been tossed off, like the wads of useless pieces. a pang in the deep; take a deep breath and smile. They happened for reason, keep them where they were, fly off with the new songs of clouds, and the ghost of failed one will live only in the dream. Change within. ©Byung A. Fallgren
Ocean Water Dasha Kelly Hamilton The ocean pushes back Alive and vigorous The heritage of habitat Leans against expectation Muscles its due respect Without regard Without warning Without reorienting the ones With swimming perspectives Limitations of consistent temperature and painted cement walls The ocean rumbles its sovereignty Full weight of freedom on my skin. Dasha Kelly Hamilton is a writer and performance artist. She is National Rubinger Fellow and currently Poet Laureate for the city of Milwaukee and the State of Wisconsen. In 2021, she received an Academy of American Poets Laureate Fellowship.
Byung A. Fallgren 