MasticadoresUSA – Editorial Announcement

I am deeply grateful to Juan Re Crivello for choosing me as the first editor of MasticadoresUsa. Juan is a wonderful author and editor. Two years ago he founded Gobblers/Masticadores that has already passed one million views.

Hello to you my dear readers, and also to my fellow editors of the Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Romanian, and other editions of Masticadores. I am Gabriela Marie Milton, 2019 Author of the Year at Spillwords Press NYC, author of Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, and author of #1 Amazon bestselling poetry collection Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: I Love Poems and Poetry Prose.

MasticadoresUsa features talented writers of poetry and short prose. We primarily publish writers who write in English and are based in the USA. However, while the publication language remains English, we also welcome the work of our fellow writers from all over the world.

I plan to make MasticadoresUsa a success. So: Pick up your pens. Tap your keyboards. Mesmerize me. Enchant me.

Several words about the founder of Masticadores Juan Re Crivello. Juan is a Barcelona based author. He is an active blogger in the digital editions of El País, Clarin, and Le Monde. You can find his bio on the Masticadores site. His publications can be found on Amazon here.

SUBMISSIONS GUIDELINES

If you want to submit, please send your work – poetry and/or short prose – to gabrielamariemilton@gmail.com. In addition to the piece(s), you want to have published, we need your name, and the address of your site. Submit your work as a docx attachment – not in the body of the email. Limit your submission to two pieces. We do not accept pieces longer than 300 words.

What are the themes that we are looking for? Surprise us!

However, MasticadoresUSA does not publish any work that contains racist, homophobic, sexist, and hate talk of any kind.

Looking forward to your submissions.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Thank you to Flavio Almerighi for the beautiful Italian translation of my poem The Ides of October.
Grazie di core, Flavio.

I paid for all the happiness that was bestowed upon us by the Ides of October.
I used to feel the presence of the child all around me.
A woman said I should pick a piece of slough cast by a snake and wear it against my skin.
I did it.
Flushed as a young peach every sunset became a resurrection.
Roses wrapped around my waist and later in June the child was born.

A new October sets our pictures on the Spanish chest.
Emotions animate your cheeks.
Every night above the trees the moon nurses the stars.
When I see cocoons of the larvae, I think silk as soft as the hair of the child.
When I say I love you, I think death as the harbinger of birth.
Your lips tremble and your voice flattens.
I know you love me.
With nude fingers the Ides of October betroth us again.

[Ides as the 15th day in March, May, July, and October according to the Roman calendar]

Italian Version

Ho pagato per tutta la felicità che ci è stata concessa dalle Idi di ottobre.
Sentivo la presenza del bambino tutto intorno a me.
Una donna ha detto che avrei dovuto scegliere un pezzo di melma lanciato da un serpente e indossarlo sulla pelle.
L’ho fatto.
Arrossata come una giovane pesca, ogni tramonto diventava una risurrezione.
Le rose si avvolsero intorno alla mia vita e più tardi a giugno nacque il bambino.

Un nuovo ottobre pone le nostre foto sul petto spagnolo.
Le emozioni animano le tue guance.
Ogni notte sopra gli alberi la luna nutre le stelle.
Quando vedo i bozzoli delle larve, penso che la seta sia morbida come i capelli del bambino.
Quando dico che ti amo, penso che la morte sia il presagio della nascita.
Le tue labbra tremano e la tua voce si appiattisce.
Io so che mi ami.
Con le dita nude le Idi di ottobre ci fidanzano di nuovo.

[Idi come il 15 ° giorno di marzo, maggio, luglio e ottobre secondo il calendario romano]

My poetry collection Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings is available on Amazon here .
Passions featured in San Francisco Book Review
Passions featured in Manhattan Book Review.

Thank you!
Love.
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

deification of the virgin nymph
within my palms
the flesh of violet sunsets flips like fish on land
my eyes, inheritors of light
singular sinkholes punctuating a low sky
your love…
continue reading with WP here
or
on Vita Brevis Press here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Everett – Art; Shutterstock; [link]

In Spain, the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.
Federico García Lorca

open your veins Andalusia
let him drink from your lynx blood
inject the rhythms of the flamenco
under the coldness of his eyes
tattoo his flesh with tiles of azurite
pour the sounds of castanets
into his arms
my fingers swirl
the flesh of ripened olives
covers the old shroud
the flow of blood from the white shirt
has stopped
I hear his voice
there is one cross
and you’re my only love
my body arches
oils flame in my hair
a Moorish verse falls from a wall
covering my cries

Andalusia
I kneel among your cacti fed by salt
your wounded lashes
resurrected him
for yet
another night

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Fernando Cortes; Shutterstock; [link]

I open my veins in warm waters
each time when you like what I write
the sound of the sands in the darkness
the eyes of the desert are dried
the midnight windows are opened
I jump like a lynx from a cage
dressed in cold winds and in black
barefoot
I land on the yolk of young times

I paid all the bills do not worry
I buried my bracelets by the green wall
white shirts are lined in the closet
this sand tastes like canvas and paint
I sharpen my eyes
my fingers are stretched
from the cosmic tomorrow
I enter tonight

I’ll return do not worry
disheveled, loves cry between us
remember the words of Persian Sibyl
who sold you my soul for three coins?
the time is fluid like rivers
waterlilies can bloom in the sand

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

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

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Tithi Luadthong; Shutterstock; [link]

“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.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: VladislavNice; Shutterstock; [link]

I waltz into an empty ballroom
yesterday the ghost of Maja haunted Goya in the streets
hungry demons haunted you…

Continue reading here

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Anton Romanov; Shutterstock; [link]

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

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Outer Space; Shutterstock; [link]

Dear Readers,

A fabulous poem written by Mogamat Shafiek Reggiori. I am honored Mogamat accepted to be my guest. You can find Mogamat on Twitter @ShafiekReggiori

Bio:

Mogamat Shafiek Reggiori, 4th generation South African with an Italian background. Born Cape Malay. Loves to write poetry. The kind that touches an essential part of your soul. Love ballads being one of his favorite creations. Occasionally revisits long time Fantasy Scifi novels in the throes of creation. M. S. Reggiori is a soul whisperer that enjoys indulging with creatives of all genres. Read his words and he’d kiss the day you came. A dream of his is to be a distributor of God’s wealth, hence he would donate parts of his book proceeds to CANSA ORG (the South African Cancer Foundation).

Tonight I will sit on Signal Hill
Above Bantry Bay
& watch the Sun go down
Creating that champagne sky
While the world slows
Or perhaps its our voices inside
That quieten into
These viscous moods, we rely on

All turns bronze
If but for an hour
While yours slowly awake
Into a tepid dawn
That magic hour, spreads
Before both

& I cringed within
Crying happy tears
Down my rosy cheeks
For an hour
We’d share the sky
Between our two worlds

Well much the same
Halved by night
Would you watch it rise
It came from here
From me
There is a message written
Deep within
Its luminous beams
Let it rove over your skin
As if my soft warm lips
My hour calls for waffles
Beneath the Poplar trees
& I’m thinking yours
For warm steamed tea

If I could walk that path
Between us, this life’s roses
Like a bridge across the sea
I would run it
A hundred mile sprint
To the very edge of my will
I’d kiss you & release
A thousand butterflies
Into your sky
& I’d never again let you go
I’d hold you, so you could drag me
Into your prevalent day
Until the Sun burns the night away
But I’d stay, I want to stay