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

–Byung A. Fallgren

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
Ornamental,
Redundancy,
Personal desire.

© Byung A. Fallgren

Brooding
Afternoon stroll
Surprised
By this gnome
Sudden lift

Of all the ornaments, he or she chose this gnome and other fun
characters for the trees in the park. Sometimes such trivial things
as ornaments lift our spirit. And they let us lost in the carefree
giggly moment. 😊

–Byung A. Fallgren

Rain echoes
Hoarsened call
Of owl,
Stirring melancholy,
If she has finished moving
If she needs help.
I wish I could be there,
She should’ve lived
Closer,
Wish time could be
Stretchable for her.
Working mom’s struggle,
Like birthing throes.
Rain begins to
Pour down,
Churning distress at the shore
Of night.
With no text from her.
Gold lamplight in the rain twinkles,
Assuring,
‘She’s too busy to call, but
The working mom is doing
Wonderful!’

© Byung A. Fallgren

a firm belief
stemmed project
braving storms
blizzard days to see
this day of Brief splendor

© Byung A. Fallgren

Kindness, akin to love,
we adore it, yet we gossip:

he bathes in the swamp
of cynicism, eager to follow
the stream of somber euphemism.
He’d scorn, ranting in return,

but inside him is a wounded rabbit
limping across the pasture,
searching for love, would walk on
a gossamer to get an assurance
that he’ll shine. While we
would help a lost child,

strangers in need, and so forth
we tend to look away from the
emotionally missing souls,
hoping they’ll wake up,
embrace gentle flow.

© Byung A. Fallgren

like
a jealous lover
the winter
wouldn’t stop dumping snow
song of wordless May

© Byung A. Fallgren

When thoughts are
dried river,
emotion,
budding thorn,

fall back and soak
the tired wings
in the cool lake,

peep the world through
the latticework
of sanity, and
even the irritating
sarcasm’s
laughable,

find a quality
even in  the gnarled
deadwood.
Still I try.

© Byung A. Fallgren

pondering shadows
of the day
lamplight
imbue a wisdom
into the evening

© Byung A. Fallgren