Carefree Moment
Now and then, we resort our favorite
observation point
to clarify the thoughts that tend to
scatter away like petals in the wind
today, we even forgot why we were here
enchanted by the song of the pastel clouds
might as well be a carefree soul for the day
©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
Beware of the little Devil in You
I wake up at dawn
to the voice "Choose!"
Choose what? Who are you?
little devil in me?
Wonk; far too long?
In stupor, I go through
the mental to do list:
take the vacuum to the repair shop;
replace the old sneaker with new one;
take the badly behaving cat, tossing the poop
and talking back to the shelter;
O the last one; I've been dragging?
"You've taken it to the Moon."
I flung open my eyes.
When?
Bolting up on the bed, look
at the empty one in the corner.
Shoot! It's not too late. I'll go get it back!
At the shelter office, I shout, "I take him back!"
The girl calmly says, "He got a new home."
I shake, in disbelief.
"Tell them I want him Back!"
"No, Ma'am. Only in your dream."
That was three years ago; and I still dream of him;
how long? Ask the moon.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Some of my poems are published in this Weekly Avocet.
Thank you, Charles, Vivian and Valerie, for taking them. --Byung
Winter, short poems #2
Below zero
yesterday
spring-like today
capricious
old soul
Snow coated
street light
stands
musing like
a homeless man
©Byung A. Fallgren
Winter Remembered
John Crowe Ransome, 1888--1974
Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of absence, absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.
Think not, when fire was bright upon my bricks
And parts the tight board hardly a wind could enter,
I glowed like them, the simple burning sticks,
Far from my cause, my proper heat, my center.
Better to walk forth in the murderous air
and wash my wound in the snow; that would be healing,
Because my heart would throb less painful there,
Being asked with cold, and past the smart of feeling.
Which would you choose, and for what boot in gold,
the absence, or the absence and the gold?
Born in 1888, in Tennesse, the poet John Crowe Ransome founded
The Kenyon Review and guiding member of the Fugitive.
Byung A. Fallgren 