at the edge of winter #poem #poetry

at the edge of winter
bridal chambers cry
roasted chestnuts crack
in the frigid streets
days inside my soul
come and go like ships
broken hearts lament
right at my front door
did I leave you there?

see,
I can’t remember
what I’ve done with you
at the edge of winter
a tree is sick with flu

@short-prose-fiction

image: Nelson garrido Silva/Shutterstock

 

Valencia #poem #poetry

a bird awakes the moon
a fish turns in my dreams
algae wrap around my wrists 
Valencia, I just saw you in his eyes
his skin is madness
made of sandalwood

the smell of autumn paves the way
loves lost on lonely cobbled streets
a shadow dances on the wall
a pen writes on a table by itself
on a deck
a sailor flips a coin
dreams,
dust of desiccated lands

impressions, fingers on the pillow
under a purple sky
dried wounds
Valencia,
this room is loneliness,
alienation,
and smells of sandalwood

@short-prose-fiction

image:  Tithi Luadthong; Shutterstock; [link]

 

my poem “the breath of love and death” selected as a featured piece at Spillwords Press (NYC) #poetry

“Dear Gabriela,
We have selected your poetry to be a featured piece on Spillwords once again!”

I am honored and deeply grateful to the Spillwords team for featuring my piece “the breath of love and death.”

emotions leave the wombs of souls 
inebriation
nakedness of pearls… 
continue reading here.

*

My first featured piece was “atrocities.” You can read it here.
Thank you.
G.

@short-prose-fiction

image: VladislavNice; Shutterstock; [link]

 

hidden #poem #poetry

hidden
inside the majesty of time
among the gestures of demoted lovers
winds are pushing boats to shore
letters written now by others
inside the folds of our time
the spleen of forests that are cut
child brides are crying terrified
skin is showing purple marks
a Stradivarius which was never made
plays the tunes of your own mind
hidden
inside the letters of your name
the dormancy of our love

@short-prose-fiction

image:  Sherbak_photo; Shutterstock; [link]

 

autumn neuroses #poem #poetry

your eyes are young
my breath is heavy
sunflowers vanish in the frost
the tea is boiling
and the cat is purring
it’s autumn in the northern hemisphere
while summer comes on Rio de la Plata

I knew a poet who once said
I want to die unknown on Rio de la Plata
his eyes were old
his arms were strong
I ran to you into the northern hemisphere
and autumn came
to bury me in its neuroses’ mold

your body’s warm
my body’s cold
the room is quiet like a tomb
a nun is kneeling in the street
it’s autumn in the northern hemisphere
while summer comes on Rio de la Plata

@short-prose-fiction

image:  Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

 

The forgetfulness of summer #short prose #poetry

On my left mountains of passion lost in lunar light.
On my right poetry.
An African violet beats her eyelashes.
Spanish moss lingers on the waters of the Bayou.
The smell of fresh cocoa penetrates my nostrils.
Old wounds crawl on my skin; columns of ants searching for honeydew on a tropical tree.
The forgetfulness of summer.
The silence of a blue lagoon.
You.

@short-prose-fiction

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

 

the lonely poetry of night #poem #poetry

trees whisper, cries of cloudy skies
inaudible, unseen,
you, Astraea,
you push me on a long-forgotten trail
the ocean, poisoned, green, unsettled
warm tongues, ecstasies of memories un-lived
defiled the innocence of maiden-stars
tears, corridors of sand
you, universe that dreamt us all
the pain of suffocated myths that die
kisses, floating sanctuaries
Astraea,
you who don’t know desire
burn the nihilism of flesh
the plight
of souls sold for two pennies in slave markets
inside the lonely poetry of night

published in Indian Periodical on January 23, 2019

@short-prose-fiction

image:  Outer Space; Shutterstock; [link]