Drizzle, Algorithm

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

Days like Ocean

Wayfarer’s sprit
runs in our veins
as once we were.
Our days are pregnant
with perpetual issues,
we push and pull,
inspire one another.
We rise as beads of
purity, glee, navigating celestial beings,
our dreams.  We celebrate our eventual
descending, our destiny, for what we are.
We go back to the shore of our past,
where we overlooked the glitters,
long ago in spring haze,
search for them to no avail,
fret on the deceitful shore
mixing the gems in the pebbles,
tuck them into her bosom, lest
capricious waves steal them.
We go back  to the shore again until
we can reclaim what we lost,
surprised to see another gems
basking in the sun, camouflaged–
we take them home.

by Byung A. Fallgren



Bruised heart
stands on
the edge of cliff
pondering to fly
to the higher conscience.

It creeps into the heart, grilling–a merciless judge
Poor defender searches in her head for a right answer
for having evaded her duty as a good daughter–
being so far away, seeing her sporadically, this and that.
I still see vividly the pink-flowered Hanbok she made
for me to wear for the first day of my kindergarten,
I feel the warmth of her hand that took mine,
buried in the deep ocean of memory.
I wish I could go back to her and give her a big hug.

So what came out of that selfishness?
Nothing, your honor,
except, gaining some insight to see beyond the horizon.
Stream flows into the river then to the ocean,
it may get some saltiness in the process yet still remain as water,
recognizing the quality of diversity of ourselves,
we follow basically the same rules of our lives as any other’s, etc.

You may not be a great achiever but have lived as a normal human being,
therefore, you are not guilty.
Thank you, your honor.  Still my heart rains with constant cloud of guilt
that no psychiatrist can heal.
We all have some sort of guilt in us, woman.
That’s why we call ourselves sinners.
Repent in front of God, and he’ll clean your soul.
Thank you, your honor, but…
I hear her saying she has forgiven me,
so suffer no more.  Yet the blotch of guilt is etched in my heart,
and I learn to live with that.

–Byung A. Fallgren

Joke or not

Unloved and dying of cancer, says she,
search for a trustable person who will
inherit her five million dollar
and run a charity business,
tells me I’m the one God has chosen for her.
Oh my, thanks for the flattery.
Re: American Red Cross or CARE
will appreciate your donation, Ma’am,
my prayers are with you.
She insists she needs me
for other reason as well.
In my closed eyes she cajoles
wich fail to convince this skeptic.
Dismiss it as an erratic wind of bored soul
seeking a naive victim for some reason.
If not, I wish her the best for her search for
the right heir.

Recently I’ve received this message from a stranger.
I believe this kind of joke is not uncommon in anyone’s Inbox or message
on social media.  However, you never know;  she can be real. April fool’s day
is still months away.  I should’ve told her, yes, yes, yes. 😄 But again, I have no
desire for unearned money, esp. from a stranger.

–Byung A. Fallgren

Pedestal of Love

She left a kerchief
for the granddaughter,
the soft piece of love
with memories of childhood,
drooling nose, tears and all–
another gold
she can fold

into an angelic butterfly
carrying her beloved garden
on her soft wings
roses and begonia
and other memorabilia

to deliver them to
dejected souls
settles on the wall
reminding her of the undying love
with strength of problem-solve

We often thrive upon
the ancestral pedestal of love.


© Written by Byung A. Fallgren. Craftwork by Patti R. Smith.


IMG_1100 copy

Even the clouds linger a moment
before the rain
Don’t accuse us for our pause
before the hot answer we’d rather refrain

We regret for our words
in the rush of hurricane,
blame our irrational brain

Often what’s done cannot be undone
like divorce done in the fashion of
a mad wave crash into the wall of cliff
Therefore we pause
to avoid painful cause

So we don’t rush us into
a premature answer. Pause.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)

Longevity / Vagabonding

Some say that each day we are approaching
to our death.
If you are like me, you’ll say we live each day
till we expire.

While we are lost in busy life, our belly fats
grow and blood pressure rise.
I thought about some known health tips ignored:

while we cannot stop the aging process,
we can slow it down by practicing healthy habits
mentally and physically–eat healthy, exercise daily.

Treat your mind like you would treat your important guest;
don’t abuse it with clutter of negative thoughts;
expel negative thoughts like they are poison.
If you don’t believe in God, have faith in goodness.

These are my practice for healthy living and hopefully add some more years
to my life.  You are welcome to add what you would like to the list.

Life is like crossing the unfamiliar bridge
You don’t know what’s on the other side
You can only make the passage enjoyable.


On the quiet bridge
bagabonds alone
hopping along the
delightful diamonds drawn

On the quiet bridge
the vagabond
hops along
the diamonds drawn
wishing to take one home

(Photo, writing by Byung A. Fallgren)