My Dear Readers, My pieceDematerialization (by Gabriela M) runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords Press. Will you please vote for me? You do not need a Spillwords account to vote. You can vote using your Facebook or Twitter account. The window that opens below allows you to do so.
Motto I get drunk on love, charity, and passion. These are my professions.
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I walk into the three days we spent together.
On the first day, a nude silence wraps around my lips. Shortly after I can hear the noise of wine poured into glasses.
The hour to get drunk on love has come.
I touch your skin and another you is born.
Birds invade the sky.
A banquet of candles floods the streets.
A white thread ties my blood vessels at the exact moment when a religious procession walks by.
On the second day, drunk on charity, my sights descend upon the earth.
The dirty hands of the woman who owns wells touch my skin.
I hear your voice. I will not counsel her or belittle her desires. All she will do is sell her fake dreams in the corner of an empty street for her entire life.
I forbid you.
By punishing her you would have ruined the very thing you set out to safeguard: our love.
On the third day, stars melt in our palms like soft grapes in winepresses.
The intimations of you and I, with their smell and softness of grass and late autumn roses, invade the room.
A convulsive joy impregnates your eyes.
Words have no pigments and no form. Their register sinks in gravity, shiny coil by shiny coil, musical key by musical key, sleepy touch by sleepy touch.
The perfection of the afternoon’s poplars blesses the air.
Possessed by passions, under the wing of a bird, we died three days ago.
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.
image: Sandratsky Dmitriy; Shutterstock; [link]
Feminine sexual scars: real, invented, and in some cases only dreamed. Wounds exposed in plain view in order to obtain something in exchange. If not justice, then sympathy. If not sympathy, then the attention of a certain male prototype.
A desperation to direct the masculine imagination toward the submissive feminine with its painful blows; blows exacerbated by the brutality of our patriarchal society. Yet something more was added to that: female purple skin calling for the asperity of males’ touches, abandon, suggested nudity, swollen lips, tons of adjectives filled with a sickening excess of sweetness.
I remember him saying.
An entire arsenal of attraction built on wounds that should be sanctified not used to incite maleness. Those women hang their sexual lesions like paintings on walls for the sole purpose of giving males glimpses under their underwear.
C’mon. You know it.
I did not. However, he was a man of high intellect. It was difficult to go against him. I had to wait. I had to outmaneuver him.
So, I played my feminine submissive part. Add some madness to that and I am quite sure I looked like Ophelia running from room to room dressed in black negligees incapable of understanding my own distress. What a nightmare.
Was he right?
excerpt from my manuscript Remembrance of Love (working title) 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.
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 …please continue readinghere
You can read my Spillwords Author of the Year Interviewhere. 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.
I am delighted to host Diana on my blog today. Diana is a fantastic novelist and a wonderful friend to those who know her.
Please stop by to congratulate Diana on the launching of her novel Liars and Thieves, the first book in her new Unraveling the Veil series.
Global Link Purchase http://a-fwd.com/asin=B08FGQ2W3Q
Blurb:
Behind the Veil, the hordes gather, eager to savage the world. But Kalann il Drakk, First of Chaos, is untroubled by the shimmering wall that holds his beasts at bay. For if he cannot cleanse the land of life, the races will do it for him. All he needs is a spark to light the fire.
Three unlikely allies stand in his way.
A misfit elf plagued by failure—
When Elanalue Windthorn abandons her soldiers to hunt a goblin, she strays into forbidden territory.
A changeling who betrays his home—
Talin Raska is a talented liar, thief, and spy. He makes a fatal mistake—he falls for his mark.
A halfbreed goblin with deadly secrets—
Naj’ar is a loner with a talent he doesn’t understand and cannot control, one that threatens all he holds dear.
When the spark of Chaos ignites, miners go missing. But they won’t be the last to vanish. As the cycles of blame whirl through the Borderland, old animosities flare, accusations break bonds, and war looms.
Three outcasts, thrust into an alliance by fate, by oaths, and the churning gears of calamity, must learn the truth. For they hold the future of their world in their hands.
Q & A
How many books have you written? Do you have a favorite of your books and if so, why?
My goal, years ago, was to write 15 books. With the addition of this trilogy, I’ll have reached 19 total books! What a surprising journey it’s been. I actually don’t have a favorite. When I write, I get intimate with my characters. I experience their challenges, sorrows and longings, their tragedies and victories. They become people I’ve known and cared about, part of my life. Are all my books equally well-written? Of course not, but to me they’re all special.
Trailer:
Author Bio:
Wallace Peach started writing later in life after the kids were grown and a move left her with hours to fill. Years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books, and when she started writing, she was instantly hooked. Diana lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two dogs, bats, owls, and the occasional family of coyotes.
I was not planning to post today but news came last night that my poem “Son of the Desert” (by Gabriela M) was nominated for Publication of the Month at Spillwords Press NYC.
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.
On November 2019 my poem The Breath of Love and Death was voted Publication of the Month at Spillwords.
In the beginning of 2020 I was voted Author of the Year at Spillwords Press. You can read my Author of the Year interviewhere.
You, evening of ours, how beautifully your lips tasted; stars in your unbraided hair spread over still waters like lily pads; rosy skin like the flesh of a pink grapefruit freshly open.
I still can breathe in your aromas of cherry flavored cigars and sleepless expectations.
The smell of freshly baked bread in the nights when the ocean howls.
The moon’s eyes linger on my neck.
The kitchen is hot.
Your eyes rest on the buttons of my dress.
One eye faces the sacred.
The other craves for the profane.
I call into being the taste of that which is hidden below the existence.
Touches.
Self-indulgence.
The breath of a salty ocean on the 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.
I am thrilled to introduce you to a wonderful writer Ishita Gupta.
In her own words Ishita “is a girl who chooses to explore and experience her life through words. Born and brought up in India, she is an avid reader, feminist, and a biology student. Ishita is also trained in a form of Indian classical dance, Kathak, and is currently learning contemporary dance style. When she writes, Ishita channels her hidden emotions, and tries to create a change in the society. She shares her thoughts at her blog Thoughts Resonate.”
Please take a minute and visit her site. It will make me and Ishita very happy.
Thank you.
Gabriela
Who am I? by Ishita Gupta
A wilted flower on the sidewalk
A lone tear amidst many
I seem to have lost my essence
In life’s unfair journey.
Who am I?
A thorn in a basket of flowers
A black smear on white
In my relentless pursuit of happiness
I’m stuck somewhere between the lines.
Who am I?
A bug drenched in rain
A torn page of a book
I can only see grief
Everywhere I look.
Who am I?
A dove without wings
A lock without a key
I am on a lost track that leads
To the inner depths of the seas.
