Bond

Bond
by Juana de Ibarbourou 

     I grew
     Only for you.
Cut the acacia boughs that demand
Only destruction at your hand!

     My bosom blew
     Only for you.
Uproot me–in its natal hour
My only doubted were it candle or flower.

     My waters blue
     Flow for you.
Drink me–never crystal knows
So pure a tide as in this channel flows.

     Wings I knew
     Only for you.
Pursue me! (Quivering firefly,
Veil your flame from every eye!)   
 


Winter Morning Haiku/Senryu

My beautiful picture

third booster shot
of Covid gave me reaction
protection fever

sun is soft and shiny
but no birds are singing
winter morning

when he heard the judge’s
verdict, the teen’s leg turned rubbery
not guilty

Sage Grous mates
unaware of their loss of vast habitat
Mother Nature weeps

waking in the morning
toys on the dashboard greet me
childhood moment still alive

©Byung A. Fallgren

Decoding the Fall Colors

Decoding the Fall Colors

Enjoying the Fall leaves, colorful,
I hear Sun’s whisper: remember, too,
decode my message in the  Fall colors.
Of all the colors of sun’s message,
the pale yellow warns of
the vanishing rain forest;
the shy lavenders, the polluted oceans and
endangered marine lives;

the gray one, plethora of CO2 in the air,
the green house gas, the holes in the ozone layer
in the atmosphere, the sharp ultraviolet ray,
health problems of animals and us;

little white flowers, melting artic ice,
harming the ecosystem;
the beige tan, the contaminated water source,
river and the lake;

the orange leaves, ailing of the Earth;
the bold red, the embarrassed sun,
like the one in the thick smog.

O the rose in the pink, our waking, hope;
plan, work, to save our Mother Earth.
With beam, the sun waves the flag.

©Byung A. Fallgren

*This piece first appeared in The Avocet, Fall 2021, printed issue.
Thank you, Charles, Vivian, Valerie, for accepting the poem.

Praise the Cereal of the Kitchen god

Praise the Cereal of the Kitchen god

Mom, buried in insomnia-hill,
slips into
the comma-like-rose-garden at the dawn’s vil,

why bother to wake,
once in a blue occasion,
let the children help themselves,
with cereal and milk,
before going to school;
it’s full of vitamins and minerals;

let the grandpa wave them on the bus;
ah, no problem.
She can even write a poem
in the half-asleep-dazed state in the perfume of rose,
the prayer for the children’s safety,
trusting God,

while Fruit loops and Cheerios sing
in the mouths of the saints;
love song for her.

©Byung A. Fallgren

I wrote this poem during the time I took care of my grand kids for a month;
With insomnia, sometimes I fell asleep at dawn and had hard time to
get up to make breakfast, so I let the children eat cereal and milk before going to school,
and let grandpa wave them on the bus. I had never been more grateful to the cereals
than that time. 😊