Three Poems & One Flash Fiction Piece by Concetta Pipia

 

Veiled Harvests

Words scatter like autumn's forgotten whispers, Yet within their tumultuous dance, Lies a cryptic bounty of elusive truths, Hidden in the labyrinth of syntax. 

 

Each word, a veiled symbol, Cloaked in the robes of ambiguity, Like spectres in a moonlit forest, Whispering secrets only to the keenest ears. 

 

Amidst this tangled thicket of language, We quest for the elusive fruit of sense, A fleeting mirage in the desert of discourse, Eluding grasp with each attempt. 

 

In the vineyard of tongues, tended with obscurity, One cultivates the linguistic harvest, Cultivating enigmas with meticulous care, Each sip of meaning an intoxicating enigma. 

 

 

Shards of A Broken Mirror  

 

Upon my fractured surface, they stand, 

A reflection of self, fragmented and grand. 

Gazing down, they see their own reflection, 

And the world beyond, a vibrant intersection. 

 

Skyscrapers rise, their sides gleaming with light, 

Towering monuments to human might. 

Each window a glimpse into lives untold, 

Stories unfolding, both new and old. 

 

An airplane soars high in the boundless sky, 

A symbol of dreams that dare to fly. 

Wings outstretched, it cuts through the air, 

A fleeting moment, then it's gone from my stare. 

 

But I remain, steadfast and true, 

Capturing moments, both joyous and blue. 

Reflecting the world in all its glory, 

Each scene a chapter in life's grand story. 

 

I've seen lovers embrace in tender delight, 

And tears shed in the depths of the night. 

Laughter that echoes through the city streets, 

And hearts broken by love's bitter defeats. 

 

Seasons change, yet I remain, 

A silent witness to joy and pain. 

Through the passage of time, I stand, 

Holding reflections of this wondrous land. 

 

So stand upon me, and gaze below, 

See yourself, and the world aglow. 

For in my shards, you'll find the truth, 

Of a world filled with wonder and uncouth. 

 

And when you leave, and move on your way, 

Know that I'll be here, day after day. 

Reflecting the beauty of life's grand design, 

In this broken mirror of mine. 

 

 

Canopy Of Dreams  

 

In the twilight of ancient arboreal whispers,   

Where unseen spirits murmur through the leaves,   

 

Shadows merge with the echo of dusk,   

Beneath the canopy, a realm of woven dreams.   

 

I, the solitary wanderer, on moss-blanketed paths,   

Converse with the murmurs of buried roots,   

 

And the sky, an endless expanse of becoming,   

Merges with the veins of the unseen horizon.   

 

In this sacred silence of the earth's breath,   

A symphony of wind in trembling leaves,   

 

Nature’s clandestine aria unfolds,   

Unseen hands moulding the clay of existence.   

 

The forest speaks in cryptic, haunting notes,   

Threads of life, intertwined and raw,   

 

A web of whispers, celestial, ancient,   

Inscribed in the firmament, a forgotten lore.   

 

The river, a timeless song in motion,   

Bears the secrets of worlds long past,   

 

An unfathomable unity of the eternal,   

Gleaming in the reflections of the unseen.   

 

From the rustle of the shivering grass,   

To the solemn hymn of silent peaks,   

 

The earth's pulse, a heart beneath the stone,   

Throbs with the fervour of an unspoken truth. 

 

The Hare and the Tortoise: 

 

A Modern Tale of Resilience

Flash Fiction

by  Concetta Pipia

 

In a bustling city, amidst the clamour of cars and the rush of people, there lived a young hare named Harper. Harper was known for his speed and agility, but he lacked patience. He often boasted about his swift abilities, much to the amusement of his friends.

One day, the mayor of the city announced a grand race through the winding streets and towering skyscrapers. Excited by the prospect of glory, Harper eagerly signed up, confident in his ability to outpace everyone. On the day of the race, Harper dashed ahead from the starting line, leaving a trail of dust behind him. But as he sprinted through the streets, he soon found himself lost in the maze of alleys and roads. Despite his speed, he couldn't find his way back to the race course.

Meanwhile, a tortoise named Theo, plodded along steadily, taking each turn with careful consideration. While he moved slower than Harper, he never lost sight of the route, inching closer to the finish line with each deliberate step.

As the sun began to set, Harper stumbled upon Theo, who was nearing the end of the race. Exhausted and disheartened, Harper realized his mistake. With a newfound respect for patience and perseverance, he followed Theo to the finish line.

In the end, it was Theo who crossed the finish line first, proving that slow and steady indeed, wins the race. And as Harper learned, rushing into things without preparation often leads to unnecessary detours and missed opportunities.

Concetta Pipia is a writer and poet. Her poems appear in numerous, international anthologies and e-literary magazines. She is the founder of Aspiring Writers' Society, an online writing group and co-editor of its e-zine, a tri- annual magazine. She is also co-editor of its soon to be released anthology, "Seasons of Change: Reflecting Today, Dreaming Tomorrow." She attended Parsons School of Design (BFA), Touro University School of Law (J.D.), and the University of Phoenix (remote)(MBA/HRM). She loves dogs and horticulture.