To My Single Friends

Being a single, you are vulnerable
to emotional wound, tend to be
charmed by good-looking people
without knowing their inner side
His or her poetry seem to mean
something about their lives even though
it’s a mere description of an image

When a person of interest is mysterious
and you cannot figure it out with
your common sense and intelligence,
avoid him or her then find another
who is clear as crystal
Save your soul from farther chasing
a phantom in your wild imagination

You are lovable, my friends
You deserve someone beautiful
and have a wonderful life

I don’t know what prompted me to write this.
I guess I’m having a senior moment.  : )

(by Byung A. Fallgren)

Her Sudden Departure

When we first met
our sons were little
with the same name
We cheered them
at the ball games
The quilts we loved at the Fair
those days are gone with you
but the music you loved
echoes in the empty room
in my heart, in people’s
Ceiling light flickers
as if you sneer at me being
like an aspiring teenager
You’d never seen me stay up
this late night, but now you see
After all, dying isn’t so bad
Have a wonderful journey
to eternal world
Someday we’ll bump into
each other again

As I was writing this for my recently deceased friend
the ceiling light in my room flickered.  I looked up, wondering
if a moss was flying around the light.  But no.  The worn out
light bulb, I thought.  Or was it her spirit?  They say when you
think about dead person his or her spirit comes to you.  I didn’t
believe that but now I’d like to.  Knowing that she visited me
even after her death is heart warming, anyway.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)

At the Edge of the Summer

Spring is vibrant,
raw and impatient
Autumn is full and
reticent with resignation
Summer is fervent,
thoughtful, semi-mature
I wish summer is forever,
tugging at the fleeting season
like an estranged lover
Unfinished work need
to be done before
the end of the summer
but I’ll let it go,
cherish the days we
laughed and
cried together



  • Pruned the new growths from the dead apple tree’s root in my yard.  I started
    it from a sapling over two decades ago, so it’s like my child.
  • Pruned and fertilized the lilac shrubs that returned with full bloom from the
    nearly dead condition years before, after getting hit by the disease.  This shrub
    is also like my child.
  • Helped the robin couple build their nest behind the fake owl by moving the owl
    a bit farther from the wall, which brought the disaster to the robins.  They lost their
    hatchlings to a real owl in early spring.  The birds then built a new nest in the
    cottonwood tree–smart–successfully produced the second round new hatchlings.
    It all happened in my yard.  So, the birds are also like my um…special guests.  They
    are gone now and only the empty nest behind the fake owl tells their sad, early
  • Bade farewell to the girlfriend who passed on suddenly; shocked, regretted that
    we hadn’t been together often.  Realization:  Nothing lasts forever.
  • Grieving again for my editor’s passing, jolting my book business.  Lost another good  friend.
  • Attended my daughter’s wedding ceremony, culminating the summer with cheers!There is other stuff I haven’t mentioned but theses are the ones that will stay in my
    memory for a long time.  I hope coming autumn and winter will be better.  Having
    some hope is good; it drives us move forward.In advance, I bid farewell to the summer by saying it in Korean:  Annyong (goodbye), summer, until next year!  By then I’ll be one year older and gain some
    more wrinkles as well.
    Oh, I want to take one last look at the empty nest.  Considering the tragedy of the baby robins, I might tear it down.  Lesson learned:  As far as building bird nest goes, birds are way better than human.


    (by Byung A. Fallgren)




IMG_1300 copy

Each perl, a sum of
her patience, hard work,
refined by the stormy waves
and moonless nights

embraces the serene face reflects
on particular memory glistening like
a shard on sands

Butterfly casts a shadow upon the mask
that has become her alter ego, to disturb

the sediment that’s now merely
a sand grain of yesterdays


I’ve been posting shenanigans over two years now,
getting to know good people who would read my posts
regardless good or bad.  It’s time that I rev up my site;
post better, interesting ones, etc.  But I’m not quite ready
to change anything anytime soon; I’m always busy–who isn’t?
But I promise I’ll do it someday.  Meanwhile, I hope my friends
would stick with me, or it’ll be just a journal–without them I would’ve
disappeared long ago.  For that, I love you, my friends.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)

Where is My Own Yard?

Sunday mornings are slow for me
unless something disturbs me in bed
like the neighbor yelling at her dog
“Stay in your own yard!”
Half awakened, I wonder where my own yard is
It’s where I live, of course
Once I left my yard across the ocean
for my dream, so did many others
And look what we have here now!
So you are not yelling at me, are you, lady?
Wise God didn’t tell Adam and Eve
to stay in their own garden
he only told them not to eat the apple
because he knew that eventually their children will
leave the garden with good reason for another planet
No need to complain that they ruined food by spicing it
You can always make a choice for what you want
Lift your heart and walk the dog
Enjoy the colors of this beautiful sunny day

This was written long ago also.  The lady was my old neighbor who used to yell at
her dog to stay in her yard.  At first, I thought she was nice, keeping her dog from
doing his stuff in other people’s yard.  As I got to know her I realized her shouting
had another purpose–expressing her opinion on my being her neighbor and beyond.
Later, we bought a little house in a quiet neighborhood where I could stay in bed late
on Sunday mornings.

(by Byung A. Fallgren)