photo by Howard Gershkowitz–the gersh@lox.net

venturing youth
waterfall glides down the cliff
daring unknown 

©Byung A. Fallgren

Decoding the Fall Colors

Enjoying the Fall leaves, colorful,
I hear Sun’s whisper: remember, too,
decode my message in the  Fall colors.
Of all the colors of sun’s message,
the pale yellow warns of
the vanishing rain forest;
the shy lavenders, the polluted oceans and
endangered marine lives;

the gray one, plethora of CO2 in the air,
the green house gas, the holes in the ozone layer
in the atmosphere, the sharp ultraviolet ray,
health problems of animals and us;

little white flowers, melting artic ice,
harming the ecosystem;
the beige tan, the contaminated water source,
river and the lake;

the orange leaves, ailing of the Earth;
the bold red, the embarrassed sun,
like the one in the thick smog.

O the rose in the pink, our waking, hope;
plan, work, to save our Mother Earth.
With beam, the sun waves the flag.

©Byung A. Fallgren

*This piece first appeared in The Avocet, Fall 2021, printed issue.
Thank you, Charles, Vivian, Valerie, for accepting the poem.

Who’s there in the Wee Hour? first appears in The Weekly Avocet, #466.
Thank you editors at the journal for choosing this piece. 
To read it and other poems, please click the link below.

The Weekly Avocet – #466[2066]

Jean Moody–flmoody@hotmail.com

Self Reflection

When everything goes wrong
self-esteem also goes rock bottom;
something in the deep flashes green.

©Byung A. Fallgren

My poem Morning Sun and the Lake appears in The Weekly Avocet #465. 
Thank you, Charles, Vivian, and Valerie for choosing the piece. To read it and 
other poems, please click on the link below.

The Weekly Avocet – #465[1989]

Praise the Cereal of the Kitchen god

Mom, buried in insomnia-hill,
slips into
the comma-like-rose-garden at the dawn’s vil,

why bother to wake,
once in a blue occasion,
let the children help themselves,
with cereal and milk,
before going to school;
it’s full of vitamins and minerals;

let the grandpa wave them on the bus;
ah, no problem.
She can even write a poem
in the half-asleep-dazed state in the perfume of rose,
the prayer for the children’s safety,
trusting God,

while Fruit loops and Cheerios sing
in the mouths of the saints;
love song for her.

©Byung A. Fallgren

I wrote this poem during the time I took care of my grand kids for a month;
With insomnia, sometimes I fell asleep at dawn and had hard time to
get up to make breakfast, so I let the children eat cereal and milk before going to school,
and let grandpa wave them on the bus. I had never been more grateful to the cereals
than that time. 😊

Running Water
by Alfon Sina Storn

Yes, I move, I live, I wander astray
   water running, intermingle, over the sands.
I know the passionate pleasure of motion;
   I taste the forests; I touch strange land.

Yes, I move–perhaps I’m seeking
   storms, suns, dawns, a place to hide.
What are you doing here, pale and polished–
   you, the stone in the path of the tide?

This poem appeared June 1925 issue of Poetry. Ms. Storn was an 
Argentina poet and teacher. She authors many collections of verse, 
including Mundo de siete Pozos (Editorial Tor, 1926).
She died on 10-25-1938.