a night poem and a thank you #poetry

my love
my tears wed the earth
the night is naked, and it’s drunk
it dances around roses
with lips which taste old wine
he who wins the night wins me
the many games of life
birds whose flight has stopped
sedated
the night’s a carousel
which turns inside my heart

and…
my deepest thanks to Cassa – a wonderful poetess – who wrote beautiful words about my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings. Here is a snippet from Cassa’s post:

“Reading your poetry is an inquisitive journey
Its richness and mystery evoke my intrinsic curiosity
Once I open the wondrous door to your art
I am completely absorbed in the marvel of your words”

Please read Cassa’s entire post here and visit her site here.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock; [link]

Will you vote for me? My poem “If I Say I Love You” runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords

My poem, “If I Say I Love You” runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords Press NYC.

Will you vote If I Say I Love You by Gabriela M for publication of the month?

Please vote here.

You don’t need a Spillwords account to vote though it is easy to open one. You can vote with your Twitter or your FB account.

I will be delighted to have your vote. However, you should feel free to vote for whomever you think is deserving. All nominees are fantastic writers.

The voting will begin on the 26th of each month at 12:00am Easter Time
The voting will last for 4 Days.

Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

On November 2019 my poem The Breath of Love and Death was voted Publication of the Month at Spillwords.

featured image: Lyudmyla Kharlamova; Shutterstock; [link]

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

My Book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, featured in San Francisco Book Review #book review

We desperately want to love, to possess each other, caught in a perpetual rush to justify our existence.
Yet there is no love that can fully satisfy us. The passions of the flesh get exhausted in bed. What is left is exhausted by our imagination.

Excerpt from my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings [on Amazon here].

My Dear Friends,
Thank you to everyone who reads my work. Your support means the world to me.  Below please find the review of my book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, in San Francisco Book Review.

The series transports us on a journey of love as much as it delivers us a thematically diverse set of emotions. This is a superb collection.”
Bobbie Peyton

Please read the entire review here.

Thank you.
Love.
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock; [link]

Sahara #poem #poetry #poetry collection

The water bucket was brought by a woman.
She left.
Her child needed to be fed.
Sands.
Times comes from nowhere and goes nowhere.
Between my thirst and this bucket of water,
Between the consciousness of man and that of the stars,
Matter passes from blue to gold.
Sahara
Tonight
Your love gives way to his.

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.
Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock; [link]

Gnosticism [Hellenistic Alexandria] #flash fiction #short prose #excerpt

He was a gnostic par excellence. He loved Hellenistic Alexandria, a place where syncretism, with its unbelievable superposition of religions, grew like oyster mushrooms. Think fleshy greyish-brown, yellow, and pink colors one on top of each other.

During winters, the ghosts of the Alexandrian carnival, inscribed in colored tiles, mesmerized him. They lived in his mind like relics in churches, wrapped in scents of myrrh, overwhelmed by veneration, buried under the kisses and the requests of those who believed in miracles.

Carnival: late Latin expression meaning carne levare, “remove meat.” Some will say “farewell to meat.”

Ah, the famous libertinism of Carpocrates. He did not believe in it. The sweetness of the flesh meant little to him. And I am coming to what you want to know, am I not? You want to know why he loved me so much and how he conceived of our relationship.

Turn around. Breathe the smell of grass growing on old tombs: tombs of saints, madmen, oracles. Remember, the wish to die is as natural as erotic impulses.

I will blindfold you. You will take your shirt off. I will drop on your chest the unadulterated coolness of the morning dew.

In silence I will shade my skin between the gates of heaven and those of hell.  The sun will set on my plump and humid lips.  You can touch my waist with the fingers of your right hand. You can go down to the middle of my left thigh. You cannot deviate.  I am forever yours if the tip of your fingers can read the patterns inscribed on my thigh. Do it and I will kill his memory.

What is going to happen if you cannot read with the tip of your fingers? Oh, I’ve always believed that after death souls go to the moon.

Your call.

For crying out loud, I am joking. Stop looking at my legs.
I know you love me. He loved me too. I am who I am and who I am is hidden from view.
Now, can I get a drink from the bar? And really those devil eggs look so good.

excerpt from my book in progress: Remembrance of Love [working title]

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.
Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

My Poem – Love Numbers – Published by Free Verse Revolution #love poem #free verse #prose poem

My Dear Readers,

My poem – Love Numbers – published by Free Verse Revolution.

You used to identify the beating of my heart according to the phases of the moon.
The tonalities of my voice were symbolized by the heaviness of wheat in any given year.
We laid in the grass, shadows of poppies playing on our faces with the same rhythmicity of the waves on tranquil days.
At times we could feel the pulse of the new grains.
The line of my décolleté – as you used to say – nothing else but the demarcation between inexorable sins and…
please continue reading here.

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.

Thank you,
Love
Gabriela

image:  PinkCat; Shutterstock; [link]

The Second Waltz-Poem #Poetry #Poetry Book

at 8 am you boil flowery teas
the kitchen smells blueberries
and it smells cinnamon
the French silk stockings are the perfect gift
wonders of the magic lamp
last night
our passion lit
twelve wicks

you say good morning
and I say not now
your eyes are thirsty like a drying well
you say I love you
and I say please wait
your kisses fall under the bracelets from my wrist
my heart is beating in your chest
I have to go
you want to talk to me?
perhaps another day
you know, another day will bring another night
why don’t you write to me?
will I come back?

my love,
in front of all these icons that you brought for me in Crete
I swear I’ll die again with you
inside the beauty of the second waltz
where we discovered our innocence
one chord per bar

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here.

Thank you,
Love
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

My Poem “The World of Our Making” translated in Luganda by Jude Itakali #poetry

My Dear Readers,

I am deeply grateful to Jude for translating my poem The World of Our Making in Luganda, the most common local language in Uganda. Jude is a fabulous poet [you can visit his site here], and his gesture brought tears to my eyes.

Jude is a year into blogging and currently he is working on his first poetry book. Writing and reading on his blog takes him places he cannot be and gives him a freedom that has evaded him for so long.

The World of Our Making was previously published by Spillwords [link] and translated in Romanian by Virginia Mateias [link].

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, can be ordered here. Sending love to everyone.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

dematerialization #poem #prose poem #short prose

shutterstock_251593474

It was a sort of dematerialization that left behind the scent of orange blossoms and the vague memory of sultry afternoons growing by the margins of the pond: those afternoons in need for seed germination. I am sure you can remember them.

You and your love for me which have always looked for my blood. I told you I am air and therefore I do not have a body. I fill the space in which other bodies manifest themselves.

I am every breath you take in your nights of love when you think you love other women.  Have you ever noticed how blue and humid is the air you breathe between two kisses? That’s me.

Oh, I agree. Sometimes I may look like plum lips and other times like tiny specs of red wine sprinkled on your shirt. Those are the times when the moon is full, and the cicadas’ wings listen to the vibrations coming from the membrane of their own abdomens.

It’s summer: pink roses, fresh lips, quiet balconies.

May I have my black nightgown back? I want to feel its silkiness against my skin.

Oh, you are right.

I do not need it. I do not have a body.

Is it my imagination or your breath just got heavier?

excerpt from my book in progress: Remembrance of Love [working title]

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, is available on Amazon here.

The following is an excerpt from a review of Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings written by Fabian Bats. I do not know him. His review is voluntary. Fabian’s words brought tears in my eyes.  I am humbled and deeply honored by his review. His efforts to understand the semiotic of my poetry brought me to my knees.

“The first poem is my favorite in the book; it took a few re-reads to grasp, but when I did, I instantly thought to myself “Genius!”

After my first read, I had no clue what I had just read, “what is the link between the title and the poem?”, I thought, racking my head and moving on to the next poem, hoping for less murky waters to swim in -at the start of the book, it is humorous, I know. However, when I came back to read it again, and started seeing links, I felt butterflies, I marveled at the beauty of the words chosen and how a particular figure of speech was used here or there, and when the stars aligned in my mind, I saw clearly that the author was referring to the night of a honeymoon (it could mean a host of other things to other readers, simply because poetry is art). From this point onward, it was difficult to put the book down.”

You can read the entire review here

Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)