My new poem “reddened mud” published by Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine

nudes, born inside a gallery of souls
the night hangs on an iron wall
I am the limits of my pain
the loneliness of those who do not fit
inside…

continue reading with WP here
or
on Vita Brevis Press here.

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

We sat there in the shadows of Sacré-Cœur, our laughter gone, our wills broken, our souls scarred, longing for what once was us. A heavy darkness was staring back at me from a white abstract past, like Malevich’s Black Square hanging on a cracked wall.

Who was to blame for all that happened? We had no answer. We could not judge ourselves anymore. We did that too many times. We got nowhere.

God did not promise us anything before we were born. He did not promise us anything even after we were born.

Miguel and Jacques looked petrified.

I gazed at Miriam. She spoke.
…
Miriam and that beautiful face of hers, her short black dresses scented with jasmine, her love for Jacques whispering like shadows on the roofs of Paris during purple dawns. Miriam and her paintings violating the silence of her studio from which one could see Notre-Dame. Miriam watching Rodin’s Gates of Hell for hours at the time. I always wondered what she thought about.

Now I think I know.

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers
@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Lana Tikhonova; Shutterstock; [link]

There is nobility in giving: the kind of nobility that those who rule the world in bullet points will never know.

Thank you to my blogger friend, Brad Osborne, for the joy he brought in my life yesterday. Brad wrote a poem about how much I inspire him. I am humbled by his words and I will never forget his noble gesture.
Please visit Brad’s site at commonsensiblyspeaking

Brad’s poem for me is called “You take me there.”
Here is the first stanza:

How is it that with simple phrase
You ply the paths inside my mind
Transported back to younger days
My life, somehow, put on rewind

Please read Brad’s entire poem and post here

Thank you all.
Yours,
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

My Dear Readers,

I am humbled that I was voted Author of the Year at Spillwords Press. Thank you to everyone who voted for me, and thank you to the wonderful team at Spillwords Press (NYC).

“…from the writings of the titans coming from the Latin American space to the writings of their counterparts coming from the Slavic space. Yes, I am an American, but I am also a child of Europe. I have been fascinated, mesmerized, frightened, brought to tears…”

You can read my interview here: Author of the Year 2019 Interview

Yours,

Gabriela

let’s take the train and go to Vienna
rent a room for a night and then waltz
in your arms the waist of the night trembles
fingertips touch a blue door which is locked
I sit barefoot on the floor
the windows’ eyelashes are yellow and drunk
your voice moves stones in a lonely graveyard
to bury the tears I cry
and lonely like children of war
we cut in two the same pain for one night
you, the kiss of the love that could be
I, the rhythm of three beats in each bar
in Prater Park they sell lollipops
years pass by in one night
I rest my head on your shoulder
and the train to Vienna has stopped

draft
@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: KimSongsak; Shutterstock; [link]

The ankle of an iceberg cries. Its tears fell on my body.
They crust on my skin like cold wax on a rack of votive candles.
Seconds hurt like lonely Saturdays.
I lie in bed.
Roses scent the air.
My dreams burn. Ashes of our nights of love cover the sun.
My eyes dilate under the gravity of time.
I taste figs and wild forest.
The room moves on another longitude.
Is it morning?
Is it Saturday?
Where are you?

related: Sunday on another latitude

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: bruniewska; Shutterstock; [link]

My Dear Readers,

I was voted author of the Year at Spillwords Press NYC (2020). I am deeply grateful to those of you who voted for me.

Thank you to you, and to the incredible team who runs Spillwords Press.

I am deeply humbled and honored by this recognition. However, I’ve never written for the purpose of receiving an award. I’ve always written to touch others’ souls. If this award will allow me to reach more people, I will certainly consider it a win. I was not taught to think “I.” I was taught the think “we.”

Without my students I am not a professor, and without my readers I am not an author. This award belongs to you as much as it belongs to me, and to those you have supported me in my journey in life until this point.

Yours,

Gabriela

Check winners by category here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

I seek you
like roots seek water
the thirst which blasts within the rhythms of castanets
in Andalusia of the flamenco dancers dressed in red
I see you
the face of the lost stranger
dissimulating grief in autumn shadows
killed by the aurora borealis in the southern hemisphere
I feel you
dreams of wild young tigers
ravaging the flesh of prey with their teeth
in the Sahara of my burning suns the fate plays games
……..