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Lilt

~ Byungafallgren ~ 2 Comments

girl_in_woods_in_autumn

With busy routine, she’s numb
For fleeting seasons, lost in the
little corner of the world

A sudden death of the editor
Or friend rattles the insipidity
She ponders in sadness, anxiety
Stubborn melancholia

She shuts down the computer, takes
A stroll by the creek, following the
Footprints have gone before her
Wonders if this ancient habits
Has lifted their spirits

The farther she takes each step,
The lighter the next one, lilt aloft
Essential to sustain her optimum
She takes deep inhale of
The fragrance of it all

(by Byung A. Fallgren.  Byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

Vaster than the Ocean

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together

I remember you said
we are eternal lovers in
the same boat in the vast sea
How delusional I was to stray away
from you for the bewitching passerby

Boyish infatuation deserves to be
tossed into the bottomless water
Tears of regret induce the sea rise

Into the dreary solitude appears
the manifestation of forgiveness of love
that’s deeper and vaster than the ocean
Now I know what you mean to me, dearest
You are my only love-star in the whole universe

A Child’s Cry

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You say you have a big heart

If so, don’t deport our parents

They were young dreamers

Searching for better lifetime

Like the pilgrims once did

They spent youthful years

Toiling and raising family

Now that their hair turn gray

And their children in schools

Please let them stay right here

In the land that has nurtured us

One that we have grown to love

Build wall for illegal ones now

Never banish the old settlers

Do not separate us from our

Parents, siblings in sombrero

We need home to return after

School like any other children

(2-22-17.  By Byung A. Fallgren.  Byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

Poems / Minds

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A well known, late poet once said in an article, “If English is your second language, don’t write poems.  Instead, write fiction.”  I understood what he meant.  But I didn’t agree with him because I had read well-written poems by poets to whom English is the second language.  However, I took his word and wrote novels.  Writing poems is not my forte, anyway.  Still, I could not avoid the fun of writing poems.  And with a good reason.

Some people say that they don’t know how to write a poem.  To me, there’s no such thing as how to write a poem, unless it is formatted one.  Writing formatted poems is not my favorite, mostly because I don’t want to deal with cadence, stanza, meter, feet and foot, etc.  To some degree, I do though.  A poem is the expression of your feeling and thought.  I write down my feeling and call it a poem.

They say poems are worthless.  You cannot make a living by writing poems.  True.  But a poem is an elevated form of your expression.  Writing poems not only calms you, but also enhances your soul.  No doubt, great poems move your mind with profound beauty.  Needless to mention, writing poems or reading has its own reward.

Considering that, I think beginning from Middle Grade, if not earlier, teachers should encourage the students to write at least ONE POEM A DAY.  So they can have a moment of reflecting their problems and figure out how to solve them.  Everyone knows bottled up emotions often lead to a mental illness.  That’s why we see so many killing incidents at schools and else where.  Gun control policy alone doesn’t prevent the crimes.  How about we use a psychological strategy, like the one upper mentioned and more?  Stop the crimes by treating the core problems–the MINDS, especially the poetry-deprived minds.  (Poetry-deprived minds are not necessarily people who doesn’t read or write poetry.  They are apathetic people with no respect for other people’s right and law.)

 (By Byung A. Fallgren.  Byungafallgren.wordpress.com.)

Oxymoron of the Days

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I was in the crowd
Feeling desolate
No one noticed me
Until I spoke

I’m alone in evenings
With invisible companions
Chatting and laughing
Through emails and websites

I work at home solitary
No hector, no tittle-tattle
I get done works given to me
Which is a part of whole of every one’s

(by Byung A. Fallgren.  byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

Story of TB Positive

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An elderly woman lived alone in a house at
the end of the dirt road.

At age 92, the only problem she had loneliness.
Being a homebody, she had few friends.

When asked, “Why don’t you move close to
your relatives or friends?”

She replied in a low voice, “I’m told I must
avoid people because I’m TB positive.”

“TB positive (or latent TB) is not contagious.
Active TB is contagious.”

“I’m old so I will become sick, right?”
“No, unless you have an extremely low immune system.”

“Old person has a bad immune system, right?”
“No, unless you don’t take care of yourself well.

“Besides, not everyone with TB positive become sick.
Only 1 in 10 people get it.

“With these signs, call a doctor:  Unintentional weight loss,
persistent cough, fever, night sweats, fatigue, loss of appetite.

“Take good care of yourself and go out there you want, dear lady.
You have a right to enjoy your life as anyone else.”

*This post is not intended to give anyone an advice.  It is a form of my opinion.

(by Byung A. Fallgren.  byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

She’s Blind

~ Byungafallgren ~ 2 Comments

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Mother:  “Did you pickup your date for lunch, Son?”
Son:  “Yes.”
Mother:  “You should’ve removed the snow off the windshield completely before…”
Son:  “What for?”
Mother:  “So she can see outside.”
Son:  “She’s blind.”

*After our squabble, my husband only cleaned the snow off his side windshield.  I stared at it for seconds then came up with the piece of joke.  It may not be so funny for some of you
but to me it was.  The photo was thought provoking, as well, especially silly one.  What’s more, the silly joke loosened our tense mood after the argument, making us crack smiles then laugh.  Laugh as often as you can, folks.

(by Byung A. Fallgren.  byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

*

WHO LEFT THE LID UP?

Ed always made sure to keep the printer’s lid down after using it.  Noticing it is up, he asked the coworker, “Who left the printer’s lid up?”
Coworker:  “It must be a male.”

(Source:   Reader’s Digest)

Virtues of the Olden Room

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Drawing of an alien and mushroom
On the wall, whirling fantasy of

Raw dreams and angst of teen years
Harbored in the net and mascots

The silent associates of night
Timeworn defender, conspirer

Shared dreary nights and tears
Longing of the phantom vision

Yesteryears’ pain, today’s strength
In many different shapes and colors

She pauses in the ancient fort
Grasping the gem, why suffer?

Now she’s sapient
A queen of mirth

(by Byung A. Fallgren.  byungafallgren.wordpress.com)

another Haiku

~ Byungafallgren ~ 2 Comments

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a ditched bald eagle
weary trafic on the road
the horrendous December blizzard

*

Last Christmas, my husband and I braved traveling in the blizzard to see my son in Colorado.  The traffic crawled but fast enough for me unable to capture the photo of a bald eagle in the ditch.  At first, I thought it was dead but it began to poke at the snow.  Even the mighty eagle could not fly in the snowstorm and was taking a refuge in the brush by the road.  And because it was a bald eagle that was ditched, it struck me with a profound emotion that made me mutter the three phrases that didn’t nearly satisfy me….