Before
You smile on the first day
leads to the proposal to join the "Family",
as you call it.
Thanks, but making such a bond,
I don't easily do.
Since that day, I hear you
in the tree's murmurs;
in the wind; or gabbing sparrows.
Then, you appear
in the swirl of dust and leaves,
and say "Family!"
I smile and say "Friend, perhaps,
a young friend."
reluctantly you nod.
I add, "Wish us to be polite and light;
on the muddy hill or in the rain;
in the sun and sunless days.
©Byung A. Fallgren
some buds are ready
to see the world, some not
just like human
neighbors emerge from
their winter confinement to wave hello
spring greetings
©Byung A. Fallgren
10 Poetic Forms by Byung A. Fallgren is published in this weekly journal.
Thank you, Charles, Vivian, and Valerie for taking the piece.
Getting Something while idling
going for a ride
to the village
to the hamlet
no particular reason
just for serendipity
©Byung A. Fallgren
What darkness also conjures
In the backyard evening settled,
I stretch my arms over my head,
take a deep breath, and exhale "Ko-ho--"
a sudden grunt from the nearby dark slope,
"Thuh-u-uh!"
on the back of my neck the hair stand.
An animal hurries down the hill then stops
in the midway, to glance at me.
revealed in the light is none other than
my friend buck.
"Scared you?" to my voice,
toward me, he slowly moves;
the fear and joy; at the twilight, the twin;
he absorbs my smile,
learn one more of our being
in the dark.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Another Winter
chill outside
nothing
moves here
but snowflakes
and the writer's pen
war in winter
should
be forbidden
frozen refugees
long for spring
©Byung A. Fallgren
Driving along the road
glance at the frozen lake
the pending plan
©Byung A. Fallgren
My poems, Even the Leaves; While Walking in the Trail; and Haiku are published in this
Weekly Avocet. Thank you, Charles, Vivian, and Valerie, for taking these pieces.
--Byung
Winter Song
Wilfred Owen
the browns, the olives, and yellow died,
and were swept up to heaven; where they glowed
Each down and set of sun till Christmas tide,
And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed.
Fell back, and down the snow drifts flowed and flowed.
From off your face, into the wind of winter,
The sun-blown and summer-gold are blowing;
But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,
When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,
and through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.
Wilfred Owen, born on March 18, 1893, in England, was a
poet of the First World War. He died November 4, 1918.
Rising from the Night
nothing
is serious
to kill,
let go
and go well
In Loving the Insomnia
wee hours
in the night
comes
easily
hard answer
Choosing
of all
the terrible voices
a few
can be worthy
of consideration
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 