View on the side of the road, a Message

Silver sky and the land join in the sea of smog;
Submerged, the wind turbines wave their arms,
Like the drowning octopuses.
 
Drying lake gives her way to the green invaders,
Like old soldiers with no weapons.
Hope the smoke will dwindle with winter's arrival;
Dried lakes will begin to refill 
As the irrigation stops in October.

In the smoke, the wind turbines point fingers,
As we panic at the foot of crumbling hills,
Fumbling on the sea of plans.

They say eventually Nature replenishes what it has lost,
But she cannot revive the perished creatures;
Polar bears, beavers, and others may live only
In the children's story book.
We can reverse that, can't we? 

©Byung A. Fallgren

Saving Mother Earth Haikus

hear the rage of smoke
from the burning trees and houses
they resign no more

the monarch butterflies 
on the brink of extinction
they don't need to go

save others, and save us
before polar bear and others
gone forever from Earth

©Byung A. Fallgren

A Fish Story

Don't ask me my name,
I can be any fish, small and big.
The point is the fact I am dying
with unknown cause; unknown 
to me and others.

A human examines me and others and 
finds plastic particles in our cell. But 
he's not sure if that is what killed us. 
There are more things, toxic chemicals
poured into the ocean can be also the reason.

humans who consume us worry; what if 
they too eventually end up being like us. 

But why worry? Change your wrong habits, 
and we all be safe. Or won't we?  

©Byung A Fallgren


  

We Dream the Dream Dreaming Us
                                by Brian Tierney

You say we should wait--
It must have snowed all night or season,

we don't seem to know
and there isn't a clock.

I say then 

we should 

wait, I
trust you.

The page is blank outside.
we haven't heard in days.
There is not enough time for a whole new plot.

Inside, the wax dilates.
We sit in the dark
and wait.

and are separate,
but looking at each other--

Brian Tierney is the author of Rise and Float (Milkweed Edition, 2022).
A former Stegner Fellow and the recipient of the 2018 George Bogin
memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America. He lives in 
California, teaches poetry at the writing salon.  

For the Spring Sun
walleye 
in the river
plays 
jumping & jumping
for the spring sun

Spring Grass
in the helmet
of morning dew
the blade
prepare
for the seasonal allergy

Countryside sentiment
afternoon ride
countryside where
pronghorns roaming
how wonderful to share
with them this moment

wire fence
by the road
weatherworn
but decorated with
an old cowboy boot

©Byung A Fallgren

Five Haikus

calves on the pasture
taking naps by their mom's side
prime time for the cows

upturned soil of field 
gets the nod of nearby oil pumps
a rich cowboy's dream

gas stations everywhere 
displays the high price of fuel
games of useless war

a new bouquet 
at the tombstone in the cemetery
a raven on the bench

guitar in the case
sees the clumsy old fingers
spring reverie 

©Byung A Fallgren


 
 

At the Spring Dawn
Angelina Weld Grinke

I watched the dawn come,
     Watched the spring dawn come,
And the red sun shouldered his way up
    Through the gray, through the blue,
Through the lilac mists.
The quiet of it! The goodness of it!
     And one bird awoke, sang, whirred
A blur moving black against the sun,
     Sang again--a far off.
And I stretched my arms to the redness of the sun,

Stretched to my fingertips,
     And I laughed.
Ah! It is good to be alive, good to love,

     At the dawn,
         At the spring dawn.

(At the Spring dawn appeared in Negro Poets and their
poems in 1923.) Angelina Grinke, born in Boston February 27,
1880, was a journalist and poet. Her work was collected in
several reviews and anthologies. She died October 1958.
 

Voices of the Night Air

The night is still as the house
in the painting,
but many sounds eco
in the ears; voices of wind;
like the silent cry of the stars.

Absent voices of sane dream,
like the snow field in the calm winter nights.
Or, is it still there but the ears?

Why the vain search?
Empty the ears,
sing a song for the new door in the mist.
A sudden voice: who? who?

©Byung A. Fallgren

Some Rich Person

is me with some pennies in safe.

A dying rich man offered me a gold,
if I divorce and remarry after he's 
in heaven, which I stepped aside and 
let it pass, for I am rich with some pennies
in safe, with my hubby who ends every
spoken words with a chuckle, and pukes 
at a party.

A distant sis says she'd share her fortune,
if I 'pologized her and ask.
Sorry blooms in my garden all season,
but ask for more than a penny doesn't.

You can throw a square line 
and choke me,
but it would be vain;
better toss a little silver
you don't need;
for me to find love and all. 

©Byung A. Fallgren