Outside the cold dream-realm
There’s a town on the outskirts
Where we have all felt
Compelled to take a stand
Against the demons within ourselves
We banged the gates down
We made impossible demands
And we were left stranded
In the cold dream-realm lands
I buried my heart in the backyard
And I must say, I did not regret it
My heart was black and soiled
And underneath the fertile soil,
I felt it beating and throbbing
Please, don’t think I’m heartless now
After this, I am only endowed
With great powers of perception
That enable me to disavow
The curse of my ancestry
Here’s a piece of fantasy flash fiction about what happens to the pieces of our broken hearts. It’s actually quite hopeful (see – I don’t write horror all the time!) It’s about 550 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 minutes. Let me know what you think!
My heart beats in your hand.
my fragile heart
cannot bear this world –
my heart is hard, scarred
after witnessing breaks of
street-rioters that make me
want to flee
to calmer colony planets
in sci-fi futures
where utopian dreams
are realized & we live up
to our potentials
(Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)
What is happiness?
It’s sitting in the comfy chair in the reading nook, next to you while you work away at your desk. It’s our pup laying behind your chair, chewing his favorite toy, completely at peace. It’s our baby girl, purring away sitting on the ottoman next to my feet.
Happiness isn’t money or the nicest things the world has to offer.
Happiness is your kind and loving heart, loving me forevermore.
Look to the light, my love
turn away from these screens that
tether, pull us into a spider’s web –
the ebb, flow of a life filled
with strife, makes my heart sore
I yearn for more love
which is why I turn to you
no matter what happens here
look to the light, my love
the radiance of happier days.
(Photo by Nicola Fioravanti on Unsplash)
I love my city, the city of Philadelphia
I grew up outside your limits, near you in the ‘burbs
amazed by your skyscrapers, watching from
grandma’s steps in the shadow of St. Monica’s –
you aren’t always pretty, but you’re a city
with pride and spunk, attitude and funk,
the engine of our region with a legion of fans –
behind the cheesesteaks and Rocky Balboa,
we know how much heart you have and
even if we speak rough and act tough,
underneath this grime and slime,
you have a whole lotta love inside.
(Photo of a mural in Philly from the Greater Philadelphia Cultural Alliance)