Wrong place, or not

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Pebbly road
doesn’t always take us
to the forest imagined
but to the wintry
Settled in the shack on a hill,

we assess the milieu.
View of near-impossible
road back home
tests our ability of
Most of time we can see

the glimmer of home
only if we strive to walk
even on gossamer.


©Byung A. Fallgren

Uncertain night

Tentacles of hacker hovers
Over the brainchild,
Swaddles it in the frost,

Old neighbor is moving
In the rain, leaving the
Nostalgic soul behind,

Moon hides behind the veil of
Fog sips through the
Dragon lady’s folded wing,
Drowns her in the night,

Sliver of light shines the gloom,
Like lover’s magic touch
on the ancient wound,
Lifts the blue, laconic,
I review the night
In a different light.


© Byung A. Fallgren

When in doubt of self-worth

She’s an angel, says he.
Her poetry tells so.
Some banter, she scoffs.
She is decent,
Person of integrity,
She sifts her thoughts before penning,
Like her deed, says he.

Geranium hasn’t fully bloomed, she sighs.
Mother of successful children, says he.

She notes: geranium has lived as
Wholesome being.
Wishing to be beyond it is
No more than
Personal desire.


© Byung A. Fallgren