Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology – Front Cover Reveal

Dear Readers,

I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season. I am thrilled to share the front cover of Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology to be released by Literary Revelations Publishing House late January 2023.

Given the high volume of submissions only 75 contributors have received news from me. Please check your email. You may be one of them.

We are still working on selecting new poems so those of you who did not hear from me, please stay tuned. I will be in touch.

Remember submissions are still open until January 3, 2023. You can find the guidelines for submission Here.

I would like to share some of my thoughts on the poems that I have already read.

Thoughts on Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology

As the editor, curator, and publisher of this this book, I am honored and humbled that so many poets entrusted me with their outstanding work. I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart.

I am mesmerized by the talent of the contributors, and by the range of stylistic approaches used to recreate the world of childhood. I must say from the beginning that this is not a poetry collection for children. The poems selected memorialize the beauty and magic of childhood – remembrance of love and fairytales – as well as its ugliness – abuses, poverty – that unfortunately still exist in our world. Some of the authors were brave enough to talk about the pain they endured in childhood. I salute all contributors: those who tell the world that childhood is love, and those who still bear the wounds of a very difficult childhood.

Charles Baudelaire wrote, “The child sees everything in a state of newness… Nothing more resembles what we call inspiration than the delight with which a small child absorbs form and color.” No doubt, during childhood we are first and foremost the recipients of the sensory world.

The academic literature on childhood – as well as our common understanding – frequently defines childhood as a period of our lives that precedes adulthood. Whatever happens during our first years is formative and important to our becoming. We tend to dissociate childhood from maturity. Most people subscribe to the dichotomy of childhood/adulthood.

Indeed, the prima facie reading of the magnificent poems we selected shows that the authors kept in mind the dichotomy of childhood/adulthood.

Yet, what strikes the reader during the second and/or third reading of those stunning poems is how present childhood is in the lives of the authors, now mature people. For these exceptional poets, whether they know it or not, childhood is not a simple memory filled with joy or pain. Childhood constitutes itself as an integral part of their poems, a part that continues to transform them as they write.

The strength of this poetry collection will be the capacity of its authors to blur the line between childhood and adulthood. Whether the authors talk about joyful memories, or sadly abusive childhood, the effect is stunning. We do not know anymore where childhood stops, and adulthood starts.

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I look forward to reading the poems I still have, and I look forward to new submissions too.

To those of you who celebrate Christmas, a wonderful holiday filled with magic. A hundred year of love to everyone. I will update everyone after Christmas.

Please visit Literary Revelations Publishing House HERE follow and subscribe.

Thank you.

Gabriela Marie Milton
Pushcart Prize Nominee
Award Winning Author
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020

Life Collage by Gabriela Marie Milton

I experienced mama’s death before she died.

I hate the order of things with its self-indulgent predictability.

The airport – the point of departures and returns – smell of food and disinfectant. Gray overtones.

This world would be a better place if we were more interested in others’ creations than in their personal lives.

I used to run away from home when I was a child. Every rose tore my soul. I picked up the pieces and wrapped the sick and the hungry with them. What’s left of my soul?

When my second novel came out, you said, “What a splendid tribute to your master.” I asked, “Who’s my master?” “Patrick Modiano.” I thought, “Who on earth is Patrick Modiano?” Yet I understood. The past. My obsession with the past. I went out and ordered every book Modiano has written.

I have nothing to say anymore.

featured image: Rising Moon, Karl Schmidt-Rottluff

Updates on Literary Revelations

Literary Revelations Journal posted. Please read:

From Science to Poetry: Swarn Gill

Feature of the Week: The Tides of Change by Dr. Linda Best

I am deeply grateful to everyone who submitted to the Literary Revelations’ Hidden in Childhood anthology. You will hear from me soon. For those who still want to submit please remember that our deadline is January 3, 2023. We plan to release the anthology at the end of January.

Please read the Guidelines for Submission HERE. Do not submit before reading.

Visit Literary Revelations Publishing House HERE follow and subscribe.

Thank you.

Prose Poem by Gabriela Marie Milton

With stars in her eyes, the hour of the heart coils around my finger, iridescent scale after iridescent scale like the skin of a green Anaconda. I love you beyond the world of feelings, beyond the minutes of sands, beyond the unintelligible murmurs of night processions.

I can feel your fervor, your fingers unbraiding my hair, the aroma of chocolate kisses, the unforgettable texture of quinces – as you used to say the texture of carne de membrilllo – bitterness sweetened with honey.

The stairs toward the attic squeak under our steps, a few seconds and we are there, fresh lips, bodies glowing under the moonlight. Coming from nowhere an old song invades our skin. The ghosts of the Crescent Park Looff Carousel go mad: “And I’ll dance with you in Vienna.”

The next night, back in the attic, you shirtless, quoting Flaubert: To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost. I laugh. Forget about. I sharpen my nails on your back. I disappear in your arms like powdered sugar in the air.

Monday. Sun in your hair, eyes burning with desire, I see you running toward me, crossing the street a moment too soon, perhaps too late. The world flip-flops like a fish in a net. Dark.

No, it’s not Monday. Monday never comes. It’s Sunday. I am the forever Sunday. You smile. Can you hear the song my love? “And I’ll dance with you in Vienna.”

Announcements:

Literary Revelations Journal posted. An English Poet: Eric Daniel Clarke. Please read HERE.

I am deeply grateful to everyone who submitted to the Literary Revelations’ Hidden in Childhood anthology. We are looking forward to more submissions. Please remember that our deadline is January 3, 2023. We plan to release the anthology at the end of January.

Please read the Guidelines for Submission HERE. Do not submit before reading.

Please visit Literary Revelations Publishing House HERE and subscribe.

Thank you.

Amour by Gabriela Marie Milton

amour
your secret hides inside my name
inside the splendor of the night in which you didn’t say a word
feathers of macaw birds trace music sheets
the rays of sun stretch on the pebble beach
a fragrant song delights itself on my red lips
I rest my head on your left shoulder
into the lands of spices waiting to be born
we fall
some carnal dreams howl on the corridor
who cares?
I locked the door!
this morning we can die
we won’t tell a soul
and never ask for more
amour

From my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

Featured art: S. Splajn

Literary Revelations Announcements

Literary Revelations Journal posted – An American Poet: M. Taggart. Please read HERE.

Please read the Guidelines for Submission HERE. Do not submit before reading.

An interview with the Nobel Prize Nominee Gaetano Camillo is up at Literary Revelations Journal. You can read it HERE.

Our Journal will open soon for art submissions.

Please visit Literary Revelations Publishing House HERE and subscribe.

Thank you.

Poem by Gabriela Marie Milton

I call into being the taste of that which is hidden below the existence.

The breath of a salty ocean on my skin.

Everything is here between primal and the infinity of possibilities: the epistemes of love; the essence of beauty; the whispers of a language you cannot understand.

You need me in your bones.

The moon needs me in her naked light.

[from my book Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: Love Poems and Poetic Prose]

Hidden in Childhood – Call for Submissions & Other Announcements

Please read the Guidelines for Submission HERE. Do not submit before reading.

An interview with the Nobel Prize Nominee Gaetano Camillo was published in the Literary Revelations Journal. You can read it HERE.

Thank you for your submissions to the Literary Revelations Journal. We will reply to your submissions as soon as we can.

Please visit Literary Revelations HERE and subscribe.

Thank you.

My Dear Readers,

I would like to share with you a fabulous story of friendship and beauty. Several months ago, Virginia Mateias, a Romanian-Canadian poet and journalist, sent me a poem she wrote for me. She entitled the poem, “When an angel becomes unhappy.” I was touched. I was in tears. I read and re-read the poem several times.

After a while Virginia wrote to tell me she sent the poem to a fantastic Japanese painter – Hikari – to make an illustration for it.

Soon after, while traveling in Europe, the art of Hikari came to me in an email. It was a time of gratitude, and a time to kneel in front of friendship and beauty. It was a time of silence.

Below please find Virginia’s poem for me. The featured image belongs to Hikari whom I’ve never met. I hope one day I will get to meet her and thank her personally for her beautiful art.

When an angel becomes unhappy by Virginia Mateias

On a long winter afternoon

The woman with a childlike laugh

Told me

When an angel becomes unhappy

and collapses

tuberoses grow on earth.

Wrapped in loneliness

She suddenly conceded

Half of her sky

Of such a deep blue

To me.

With the strength of a rock and

With the delicacy of a tuberose stem

She analyzed the distance between

The soul of a child and the horizon line

The distance between the collapse and the rebirth

Cover yourself with the blanket, she said,

By night we will be drinking stars.

Bios

Virginia Mateias is the result of two cultures and draws her creative inspiration from her European roots and her North American perspective. Passionate about almost all art forms, she published two volumes of poetry: “The Persistence of Memory “and “In the Shadow of the Angel.” Her poetry has been called by literary critics “original and unique”. Her poems share the three fundamental values: truth, goodness and beauty. Virginia loves nature, travel and all the little things that give life beauty and meaning. She tweets at https://mobile.twitter.com/mateiasvirginia.

Hikari is an award winning Japanese painter. She lives in Tokyo, Japan. In 2022 she was recognized during the Grand Prize Exhibition of Platinum Art Association, and she exhibited with Jiyugaoka Gallery. Hikari’s art is inspired by the spirit of Japanese Nohgaku, one of the traditional styles of Japanese theater passed down from generation to generation for more than 650 years. In 2001 Nohgaku was proclaimed by UNESCO a “Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.” [https://www.unesco.emb-japan.go.jp/htm/nogaku.htm]

About her passion for drawing and colors Hikari says that she “would like to convey a beautiful world in harmony with nature through the gradation of colors and the pattern of the costumes.” You can find Hikari at https://twitter.com/hikari2162554

An interview with the Nobel Prize Nominee Gaetano Camillo was just published in the Literary Revelations Journal. You can read it here: https://literaryrevelations.com/2022/11/07/interview-with-gaetano-camillo-nobel-prize-nominee/

Have a wonderful week everyone.

Literary Revelations Publishing House- Updates

Dear Readers,

I am thrilled to remind you that Literary Revelations will open its website in early November. Please read more about us and our mission Here.

Our Motto:

“Audentis Fortuna iuvat.” Fortune Favors the Bold.
Literary Revelations favors the bold and the talented.

We will open with a call for submissions to a poetry anthology, and a very exciting interview.

Are you ready to explore your childhood and tell us what you see there? Are you ready to bring us the magic, the joy, and perhaps the pain of your childhood? Our anthology will be entitled Hidden in Childhood.

This is not a book for children. This is a book for adults. We expect you to tell us how the experiences of your childhood formed you. We will be ready to listen to you. We will be more than proud to publish your poetry. To inspire you we have chosen three quotes:

As a small child, I felt in my heart two contradictory feelings, the horror of life and the ecstasy of life.
― Charles Baudelaire

For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.
― John Connolly, The Book of Lost Things

The child, in love with prints and maps,
Holds the whole world in his vast appetite.
How large the earth is under the lamplight!
But in the eyes of memory, how the world is cramped!
― Charles Baudelaire

More information about the anthology and how to submit will be available on the website of Literary Revelations in the beginning of November.

Meantime if you have any questions please let me know in the comments below.

More Updates:

I am very pound I have several poems included in two anthologies.

On October 10, 2022 Vita Brevis Press lunched its forth anthology entitled: What is All This Sweet Work?: A Poetry Anthology About Love and Loss. The book is a stunning collection of poetry edited and curated by Brian Geiger. I am deeply grateful to Brian for including my work in this anthology.

On June 25, 2022 Meghan Dargue launched FromOneLine Volume 3, a superb book of poetry and flash fiction. My thanks to Meg for including me.

Best Wishes

Gabriela Marie Milton
Pushcart Prize Nominee
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020

Love Poem

That night, the child – flowery eyes wide open, sweet skin like candy – stole the moon. He squeezed it in his palm and a thousand St. John’s Lanterns fell on the earth. He giggled. A lily of light bloomed on his shoulder. He touched it with his fingers, purred like a cat, and hid in its shadow.

Hushing sea. Latent waves on my body; tears on the cheek of the child. Our first night in Alicante. It was St. John’s Night. Fate was playing dice. Buried in the sand between our naked souls, between our fermenting lips, breasts of broken statues and Miguel Hernández’s Cancionero Y Romancero De Ausencias. We were two ghosts finding each other from afar. He wrote that, didn’t he?

The sky opens. The child continues to sleep, the moon tightly squeezed between his little fingers. In the bathtub my hyacinths, and the aroma of sandalwood invert their positions. I took too many sleeping pills. I fell into the exaltation of my own double. Grabbed by the claws of a bird the loneliness spams. A conch shell releases your voice. Stars and sea salt. My last I love you.

Announcement

Literary Revelations Publishing House will open soon. It will be up and running in early November of this year. Excerpt from its mission:

We publish most poetry genres: epic, lyric, narrative, or prose poetry. We expect work that dazzles the intellect, and delights the soul; work that makes feelings blossom into symphonies of love, beauty, and sorrow. Interpret the silence. Find the place where love was born, and tears are entombed. Be the voice of prophets. Be the soft whisper of Sakura.

September Love – poetic

September again, my steps heavier, my hips moving with the same uncertainty they did during the time when the child was conceived. Barefoot I trampled grapes in a red vat, my dress rolled above the knees, my hair in a bun. The crisp smell of broken Gamay Noir penetrates my nostrils. The first release of the fall juices. Echoes muffled by the cracking of corn roasting on the fire.

I hurt. I miss you desperately. Perhaps you’ve never returned from that September when we first met. Sighing leaves, sobbing skies, cold hands looking to ignite fires. A tango coming from nowhere coiling like a snake around our bodies. Sweet forehead kisses. On my neck, somnolent bruises covered by makeup.

I cannot stand anymore Victorian self-righteousness, fake politeness – “I apologize for interrupting, I came to slit your throat” – people who speak about gratitude without practicing it, questionable advisers who have proliferated like false parasol mushrooms after the rain. They make me sick. The tragicomedy of this world. Poetica, Aristotle. Remember?

Here we go again: young, books under our arms, love burning our eyes until we could see beyond the limits of September, philosophy burning our souls, trademarks of Friday afternoons on our skin. Roman columns reaching the sky at the exact hour when we interlinked our consciousnesses. Pears ripening in trees, branches burying themselves in the earth. Spread at the base of the columns our heated bodies ready to fly. We were not supposed to ever come back.

Why did we, my love?

I steal words from September’s iconostasis. I sew them in a field of dahlias. I wash my hands and my feet. You take the corn from the fire. The child plays. Blue and white awnings murmur in the wind. The child. The sunrise of the first I love you.

The following is a fragment from my poem Fear of Death published in my collection Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis Press, 2020).

ah, I forgot to tell you when I meet you in my dreams
Arabella still sells bracelets in the silver market
she asks me every time about you
while lizards run their greens into the nearby parkette
I lie and promise her you’ll come next time
to buy another bracelet and some juicy limes

now in the silence of long purple nights
the silver bracelets do not hurt my flesh at all
but every minute you are not with me
cuts yet another wound
into my soul