On the pages they sing
in many different notes:
intelectual,
straightforward,
ambiguous,
entertaining,
sarcastic,
the breezy and smug,
hypnotic with convoluted words,
Unbeknownst to ourselves,
we absorb silent voices
as our minds saunter round in
the forest of written words.
We chew and digest,
recognize divers quality,
embrace ones that resonate,
ones that help us mature in the way
rich soil does for sprouts,
hungry for more.

*
I remember what my daughter then 10-years old said in her writing
competition on diversity, sponsored by the state-wide-read newspaper:
“…when we don’t like diversity we don’t have music” which made her
win the competition.  Good to know that even young children don’t
fear the diverse crowd.

By Byung A. Fallgren

I’ve disabled “like” button
on my Home page, tossing
the yesterday’s encouragement
into the archive of memory.
Free from pressure, I fly;
I care no more about the number.
I stare at the blank spot where
the friendly faces sat before.
A lump formed in my throat,
tear welling.
I reactivate the button,
the precious number yet
a large group for my modesty
returned, brighten the screen,
and I smile at the sudden whim.
I care no more about producing
effective post.
Just write in my way and share.

By Byung A. Fallgren

It’s a long over-due attempt
we descend in gentle drops,
making the soft mud puddles,
with the idea of chemist,
with the spirit of alchemist,

trying to produce gems
from mud.  We become weary
yet we don’t easily fall back;
keep us from becoming slack.

We veer the course of the tradition,
turn into sleet with intense ambition.

In the distance,
thunder cackles, snorts.
We listen with patience
until we grasp
inspirational rhythms,
create algorithms.

© By Byung A. Fallgren

Wayfarer’s sprit
runs in our veins
as once we were.
Our days are pregnant
with perpetual issues,
we push and pull,
inspire one another.
We rise as beads of
purity, glee, navigating celestial beings,
our dreams.  We celebrate our eventual
descending, our destiny, for what we are.
We go back to the shore of our past,
where we overlooked the glitters,
long ago in spring haze,
search for them to no avail,
fret on the deceitful shore
mixing the gems in the pebbles,
tuck them into her bosom, lest
capricious waves steal them.
We go back  to the shore again until
we can reclaim what we lost,
surprised to see another gems
basking in the sun, camouflaged–
we take them home.

by Byung A. Fallgren

It creeps up on me as the judge grills.
I search in my heart for the right answer,
for having failed as a good daughter.
Being so far away, seeing her sporadically,
the pink-flowered Hanbok, she made
for me for the first day of my kindergarten,
the warmth of her hand that held mine,

in the deep ocean of memory,

I weep, wishing I could go back and

give her a hug.
What was born of the old selfishness?
Nothing, not a thing, except, gaining

some insight to see beyond the normal.
This dragon fire had not melt even
a little piece of the ice of the world pain,
merely flying ’round, singing the song
like a bird heard by few.

Let the salt water brim the eyes,
listening to her soothing voice,

and I learn to be reborn.

©Byung A. Fallgren

She left a kerchief
for the granddaughter,
the soft piece of love
with memories of childhood,
drooling nose, tears and all–
another gold
she can fold

into an angelic butterfly
carrying her beloved garden
on her soft wings
roses and begonia
and other memorabilia

to deliver them to
dejected souls
settles on the wall
reminding her of the undying love
with strength of problem-solve

We often thrive upon
the ancestral pedestal of love.

© Written by Byung A. Fallgren. Craftwork by Patti R. Smith.

Even the clouds linger a moment
before the rain
Don’t accuse us for our pause
before the hot answer we’d rather refrain

We regret for our words
in the rush of hurricane,
blame our irrational brain

Often what’s done cannot be undone
like divorce done in the fashion of
a mad wave crash into the wall of cliff
Therefore we pause
to avoid painful cause

So we don’t rush us into
a premature answer. Pause.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)

Some say that each day we are approaching
to our death.
If you are like me, you’ll say we live each day
till we expire.

While we are lost in busy life, our belly fats
grow and blood pressure rise.
I thought about some known health tips ignored:

while we cannot stop the aging process,
we can slow it down by practicing healthy habits
mentally and physically–eat healthy, exercise daily.

Treat your mind like you would treat your important guest;
don’t abuse it with clutter of negative thoughts;
expel negative thoughts like they are poison.
If you don’t believe in God, have faith in goodness.

These are my practice for healthy living and hopefully add some more years
to my life.  You are welcome to add what you would like to the list.

Life is like crossing the unfamiliar bridge
You don’t know what’s on the other side
You can only make the passage enjoyable.

VAGABONDING SUNBEAM  (GOGYOHKA)

On the quiet bridge
sunbeam
bagabonds alone
hopping along the
delightful diamonds drawn

On the quiet bridge
the vagabond
hops along
the diamonds drawn
wishing to take one home

(Photo, writing by Byung A. Fallgren)

 

When I’m with you
even the back yard
feels like paradise
I’m confident
when I’m with you
redeeming quality
for our differences
With these, I think
we’ll make B+ marriage,
if we add respect,
understanding,
undying love
to it, A+, we are then possibly
bound to be together until
death do us part.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)