Negotiating the Nightmare Demon
Negotiating the Nightmare Demon When it spits the red words and bully you, catch them with a net and trash them, if it growls and unfold the claws, declaw them with a mighty hack, for the claws regrow and demand for a piece of gold, tell it "With a good reason and a fine attitude get a grain." ©Byung A. Fallgren
Something inevitable as Old Pain
Something inevitable as Old Pain
It hits me in the neck, in my morning bed,
like malicious elf from nightmare;
no more nod or shake, it orders, or
you will fly right into hell of the
childbirth throes in your neck--
alas, the pain, souvenir of age--
Cautiously, I look to the side;
as if being alone in a tipsy boat,
drifts far from the shore;
then thrown back, forehead planted on
to the pillow, panting, tears oozing;
every day, apply the cream, three times,
with a devotion of care for elderly mother,
for over two months.
still, the pain lingers,
as the landlord
demands all the past due.
with the high red ebbs, I wonder,
what is next? Can it be slow and benign?
©Byung A. Fallgren
The Weekly Avocet
Random Poem
Random Poem Kid dreams, Dad tells his son, Be anything but kid scum. You have tried everything But failed to buy your house? No good excuse for joining organized crime. ©Byung A. Fallgren
In the game of wolf and lamb
In the game of wolf and lamb The phone message claims importance of it; a male agent for the traditional publisher would buy the copyright of my book; would like to go detail when call. Which one? the old one? Ah-- I always thought they might turn gold. the brief joy winks to a doubt; the new one? Oh, my-- I almost slap the message; how much? suppose, it won't be much; rather would keep it; a lot can be done. I deleted the message; what if wrong? should be so fast. gold coin vanishes into the cloud. Shrug, shrug; I did what I should do, before falling into a gulf; the talk would be a lamb vs. a wolf. ©Byung A. Fallgren
The Weekly Avocet
The imitator of the wave
The Imitator of the Wave Ocean waves go to the beach, home of sand shore, uninvited, for it is only virtue of nature; and it is not only beautiful to see but also deliver us things from afar: wastes, hidden matters, only we can decide what to do with them. But you, not a wave, thinking creature, dare to copy the ocean waves; only to surprise the dweller? what else more? would not want any more, for the core seem hollow as the mind. ©Byung A. Fallgren
Jewels of the Forest
Photo by Derrick J. Knight
Jewels of the Forest
poor ranger as he was,
lonely and weary;
in evenings, leaning
against the old trunk, thinking
of his children and wife
in the village;
the old tree, covered in lichens;
reminds me of my late father;
his arm skin, once, dry and roughen;
with all the shadow of the world.
He gazes at the red berries, like rubies;
how he wished they were real.
Unbeknown to himself, he picks
the red berries, the little rubies;
he would give them to his children,
would make necklaces
and bracelets;
he smiles;
smiles at the berries;
they whisper:
take us as many as you want.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 