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)

Sahara #poem #poetry #poetry collection

The water bucket was brought by a woman.
She left.
Her child needed to be fed.
Sands.
The time 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)

Sweetness #prose poem #poetry #short prose

Scents of linden trees illuminated by an old oil lamp.
The night is me.
I am the night where love delights dwell.
Shed you skin and come with me where minutes melt like chocolate on the tongue of a child.
You, sweetness from beyond the body, what can one say about you?

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

Thank you.
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image:  IrenaStar; Shutterstock; [link]

trap me #poem #poetry #rhyme

trap me
in the rhythms of the Flamenco
whose sounds invade the nights of Southern Spain
to breathe the notes of the guitars which play
and fill the lustrous eyes with burning pain

trap me
in the Florence of my dreams
to walk with Leonardo in its streets
to cry with the Madonna and to verse in Greek
when the last word of Christ forever speaks

trap me …

fragment from the poem trap me [included in my book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings]

you can pre-order my book here

Thank you.

Gabriela

image: Everett-Art; Shutterstock; [link]

© short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

Heaven and earth #short prose #flash fiction #prose poem

Heaven and earth change places.
The core of the earth shines. Rays pierce waters, beamed from below, springing from the phosphorescent floor.
Dark corridors open in the walls.
I put my hand in the water.
My hand metamorphosizes into bright silver.
Noise. A nymph?! Oh, that pristine beauty which always dethrones Aphrodite’s pagan looks.
I don’t want to leave. This is the only place I’ve known where any remembrance of human neurosis dissipates like morning fog.
“Clara we can’t stay here. We need to leave.”
“Miguel, I am not leaving. You said everything for me.”
“Clara, they don’t sell the damn grotto. If they did, I’d buy it for you. We need to leave.”
“I am not leaving.”
The light from the water floats inside his eyes.
How beautiful.
How seductive.
Is he angry with me?

(excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers)

Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, my poetry book, will be available for pre-order on April 14th; publication date April 20th.

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image: Timur Kulgarin; Shuterstock; [link]

© short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

forbidden fruits #poem #poetry

forbidden fruits
gestate on the trees’ branches
shades of green invade the veins of earth
between your dreams and mine a creaking door
temptation
adulterated wine
a naked breast

Breton’s mad love had no forbidden fruit
my love has you
the anarchy of flesh crawls in the alphabet
the repertoire of mornings’ unmade beds
a naked ocean
my bruised hands
strawberry red

My poetry book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings: available for pre-order on April 14th; publication date April 20th.

Love and good health to everyone.
Gabriela

image:  Pagina; Shutterstock; [link]

© short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton).

Love games #flash fiction #prose poem #short prose

I strolled along that large corridor whose walls were decorated with portraits: trophies of your love games.  You fed on those loves, didn’t you? You overextended. Overextension kills empires. I bet you didn’t think that it could kill real love too.

Every night the fleshless arms of your love games crawl on you like fire ants.

I know misfortune when I see it.

I know it because I am not a saint.

Hope? If there is any left it must be on another corridor.

Follow me.

read my 2019 Spillwords Author of the Year interview here
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)