Trapped Not

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In the heat of keep moving,
we stumble into an unknown,
needful things abundant, yet
tricky to get them, musty and
slippery, the particular

skill learned doesn’t help win
the competition. Need to move on,
climb on the barrier, one foot in
the narrow opening, we pause to
think if the dim world beyond

the thrash hold is worthwhile to
venture. Only way to find out is
boldly to go over the window, and
the puzzle solved, eventually
we’ll find a way home.

By Byung A. Fallgren

Shade of Dawn

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It slips in through
the window,
fragrant,
calm glow
in mist gray,
hopeful not
irrational expectation
in a huge rainbow bubble.
Apprehensive about
the progress of the day,
making sure it doesn’t leave
the shredded pieces of
the bubble in the day’s
doldrums. Varied shade,
can be deceitful, but
usually inspirational.

By Byung A. Fallgren

Gravatar and Your website

Hello friends, I want to visit your site, but when I click on your photo it leads to your Gravatar page. If you added your website(s) to the page it is so much easier for me to get on your site. I’m not trying to advertise Gravatar here. I’m just reminding you that I find it convenient if you add your website(s) to the page. I’m sure you’ll attract more readers as well.  🙂 –Byung A. Fallgren

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conundrum

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Beneath the porch their love
bloomed, off-springs were born,
aura of joy surrounded the home
until one day the babies vanished
into the night. They believed

the lady above their burrow
ate them, for she’d been
snooping around. Stars saw
the belching bull snake
in the brush . Only if

they knew her bruised heart for
their loss. Only if they knew
the convicted murderer was
innocent. So modern humans prefer
life in prison to death sentence. What
about innocent one’s broken wings?

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Mommy rabbit throws the accusatory look at me.
But, unlike human, she doesn’t dwell on her
misfortune very long. 😊

By Byung A. Fallgren

Beyond Mood

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Beneath the blue paint,
where the moth sat,
a hidden crack in
the wooden post,
the moody teens’
outburst kick.
Touching it,
soothe the scar in
the memory,
smile at his silver wings
now, yet with ever existing
tiny butterfly-clouds within,
praying and wishing to
repel yet another shadow.
Motherly sentiments,
beyond mood, until
her flesh turns to ash.

By Byung A. Fallgren