it evokes anxiety like having
an unstable lover, yet

brings hopes like return of
old associates, yet again

the word alone can’t make shy ones
to initiate reaching out,

how unproductive and suffocating it would be
without fluidness in our lives
where everything’s firm as boulder,

fluid, flow like river…change,
despite its shady side, it’s one of the
staunch friends of our civilization;
we prosper in the sea of fluidness
of ourselves.

Sometimes I explore words to get inspiration to write and post; it’s one of
the ways to solve my writer’s block. –Byung A. Fallgren

Hard rock in the fist
crumbles, slip through
between the fingers,
gentle wave moves in,
lift spirit in realization
of the trivia.
A bit of wisdom blooms
in the dark,
reaches out for what’s lost,
what’s needed,
take a side glance at
the meteoroids
searching for new in space,
leaving memories behind.
Wave them transitory farewell.
With a smile greet
the ones returning to mingle.

By Byung A. Fallgren

Dressed in the silver shirts,
purple and yellow
button down green cloaks,
we perform for the music festival
at the sunny hillside for everyone.

*
I adore your delicate beauty
you revere my magnificence,
I am steady
you are fluid.
We breathe and absorb our
very own unique essence,
silver and purple
soft and hard
to be what we are,
yet we are for one another,
embrace the beauty of
our harmonious nature,
let the dusty wind pass by,
share the moisture.
In our better days we
brighten the languid souls,
soften callouses,
let ourselves reach
our possible best.

By Byung A. Fallgren

Under the pastel sky of
twilight and the pale moon,
hometown’s evening settles,
stirring the memory of yesterday,
calm, melancholic,
ponder about the fate of
driving back for so long
every evening.
Whatever her intention of
greeting in such mellow
stories painted in the sky,
yesterday’s sorrow scatters
in the evening breeze.
Deep inhale of the
new brighter day.
With sweet anticipation,
we return home to our loved ones.

Photo, written by Byung A. Fallgren

I’m the sunshine
In the rain,
Flower petals
Sprinkled over
Mud puddle,
Smile of the
Heartbroken,
With hope.

Another boy opened fire at the high school in Florida.  Despite our effort
to stop it, it happens more often than ever before. Homeschooling comes to
mind to keep our children safer.  Ultimately, that’s probably what most of parents will
do for their children.

By Byung A. Fallgren

I love his inclination
of remaining cool when
things go awry,
giving it a try.

On the flip side,
earphones are stuck
in his ears most of time,
cuts the conversation,
that’s when he’s not cool,
my tears create a little pool.

What can I do
to solve this dilemma?
I don’t want to take away
his joy of listening to the story,
I’d rather shout like the son Cory.

Or, he has to keep an ear open,
whether it be his left or right.
He says, “That’s quite alright.”

So anointed with compromise,
balance of yin and yang,
the jolt passes and mechanism of
our family-love runs smooth again.

By Byung A. Fallgren

Like estranged friend’s voice
she doesn’t like his choice
of remaining in silence
when they argue.

She thinks it’s like flower petals
sprinkled over mud puddle,
a precursor of separation
She wouldn’t want that in desperation.

On second thought,
better tactic is the silence
than having domestic violence.

If the silence is followed by
gentle discussion after hot steam
has escaped a bit,
it may lead to their
dream to be the eternal pair.

By Byung A. Fallgren

On the pages they sing
in many different notes:
intelectual,
straightforward,
ambiguous,
entertaining,
sarcastic,
the breezy and smug,
hypnotic with convoluted words,
Unbeknownst to ourselves,
we absorb silent voices
as our minds saunter round in
the forest of written words.
We chew and digest,
recognize divers quality,
embrace ones that resonate,
ones that help us mature in the way
rich soil does for sprouts,
hungry for more.

*
I remember what my daughter then 10-years old said in her writing
competition on diversity, sponsored by the state-wide-read newspaper:
“…when we don’t like diversity we don’t have music” which made her
win the competition.  Good to know that even young children don’t
fear the diverse crowd.

By Byung A. Fallgren

I’ve disabled “like” button
on my Home page, tossing
the yesterday’s encouragement
into the archive of memory.
Free from pressure, I fly;
I care no more about the number.
I stare at the blank spot where
the friendly faces sat before.
A lump formed in my throat,
tear welling.
I reactivate the button,
the precious number yet
a large group for my modesty
returned, brighten the screen,
and I smile at the sudden whim.
I care no more about producing
effective post.
Just write in my way and share.

By Byung A. Fallgren

It’s a long over-due attempt
we descend in gentle drops,
making the soft mud puddles,
with the idea of chemist,
with the spirit of alchemist,

trying to produce gems
from mud.  We become weary
yet we don’t easily fall back;
keep us from becoming slack.

We veer the course of the tradition,
turn into sleet with intense ambition.

In the distance,
thunder cackles, snorts.
We listen with patience
until we grasp
inspirational rhythms,
create algorithms.

© By Byung A. Fallgren