Hallucinations – poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton – MasticadoresUSA update

Hallucinations by Gabriela Marie Milton

I suspect I am subject to hallucinations. I see a woman wrapped in a Cashmere checkered shawl talking to a dead person. The metaphors she uses are stolen, and her heavy makeup reminds me vaguely of a harlequin. Perhaps the shawl projected its sick personality into her, or perhaps she regressed to an infantile state under my very eyes.

She looks like a lacerated doll attached to one of Cuixar’s canvases.

Did you talk? Are you here?

My love, yesterday I read your poems. Your spellbound words reclaimed my very existence. Letters fell into my cupped palms. From the mirror the contour of your body – textured like ripened mangoes under a third eclipse of the moon – entered my world. Your words adapted to my lips. They absorbed the piano’s euphoria with its marvelous rhythmicity. Our happiness became imperative like the birth of a child at 39 weeks.

Today I am back – albeit sedated – inside the ambivalence of my own introspections swinging from one site to another like the Kirby Cove swing above the Pacific Ocean.

I do not see the woman anymore, but I can still see the dead person. The throbbing pain of Cuixar’s paintings and your absence become unbearable.

When I do not cry myself to death, I pretend you are here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

MasticadoresUSA Update

A new beautiful poem is now up at MasticadoresUSA.

Read Two Hearts by Phil Perkins here.

Do not forget to follow MasticadoresUSA.

Do you want to submit? Please read the editorial announcement here.
Thank you
Gabriela

Butterflies always die – poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton #poetry #poetic prose

In times of fortune and misfortune I am always at the mercy of silence. Perhaps because I was born on an island where seldom does anything happen.

Yesterday the water and the light invaded my tongue’s buds, and I was forced to look at myself upside down. I could see the splendor of a naked butterfly ready to mate. Do you know for how long do two butterflies stay together? Sixteen hours. The exact time we spent together in the silence of the island.

Suspended in the between times neither of us moved. No cosmic sacrifice happened. No driving force was brought to life. No blood interfered between …. please continue reading at MasticadoresUSA.

My book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings featured in San Francisco Book Review and Manhattan Book Review.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Jazz by Michael Stang #guest post #poetic prose #MasticadoresUSA

Dear Readers,

Here is a fabulous piece written by Michael Stang, editor at Storymaker, an astonishing writer whose work is often curated on Medium.

His piece Jazz is now up at MasticadoresUSA.

“… Doesn’t take much to live. Life takes everything. Rules given to ourselves by ourselves. What we know has cracks we…”

Please read the entire piece here

Relish it.
Meditate at.
Thank you.

Do you want to submit? Find the submission guidelines for MasticadoresUSA here.
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

My piece “Dematerialization” published by Spillwords Press #prose #short prose #Gabriela M #Gabriela Marie Milton

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 reading here

[This poem will be included in my upcoming poetry collection: Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: Love Poems and Poetic Prose]

You can read my Spillwords Author of the Year Interview here.
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

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

My new piece “Exiled” published by Indian Periodical #poem #prose poem #short prose

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.

Exiled under this oak tree…

Please continue reading here.

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.

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Loneliness #prose poem #poetic prose #short prose

I learned how to master my loneliness.
Madness has become my profession.

@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

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock; [link]

dematerialization #poem #prose poem #short prose

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 you think you love other women. Have you ever noticed how blue and humid is the air you breathe between two kisses? That’s me.

Oh, I agree. Sometimes I may look like plum lips and other times like tiny specs of red wine sprinkled on your shirt. Those are the times when the moon is full, and the cicadas’ wings listen to the vibrations coming from the membrane of their own abdomens.

It’s summer: pink roses, fresh lips, quiet balconies.

May I have my black nightgown back? I want to feel its silkiness against my skin.

Oh, you are right.

I do not need it. I do not have a body.

Is it my imagination or your breath just got heavier?

excerpt from my book in progress: Remembrance of Love [working title]

My book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, is available on Amazon here.

The following is an excerpt from a review of Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings written by Fabian Bats. I do not know him. His review is voluntary. Fabian’s words brought tears in my eyes. I am humbled and deeply honored by his review. His efforts to understand the semiotic of my poetry brought me to my knees.

“The first poem is my favorite in the book; it took a few re-reads to grasp, but when I did, I instantly thought to myself “Genius!”

After my first read, I had no clue what I had just read, “what is the link between the title and the poem?”, I thought, racking my head and moving on to the next poem, hoping for less murky waters to swim in -at the start of the book, it is humorous, I know. However, when I came back to read it again, and started seeing links, I felt butterflies, I marveled at the beauty of the words chosen and how a particular figure of speech was used here or there, and when the stars aligned in my mind, I saw clearly that the author was referring to the night of a honeymoon (it could mean a host of other things to other readers, simply because poetry is art). From this point onward, it was difficult to put the book down.”

You can read the entire review here

Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Spring: a thank you and a poem

I am deeply grateful to Darren C Gilbert, the author of Serpents Underfoot and Adirondack Bear Tales, for being the first to review my book, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, on his blog and on Amazon.

Darren’s review came as a delightful surprise.

“But I never thought I would be reviewing a book of poetry, much less buying one for my own enjoyment. How would this come to pass, you may ask … or, you may not … but I will tell you anyway.” Please read Darren’s review here and follow his site.

Now my new poem [prose poem]: Spring

White.
We drank two lemonades sweetened with honey at the old terrace by the church.
My body arched like a branch under the heaviness of cherry fruit.
I read from a book by Odysseas Elytis.
You smiled and listened.
The skies sighed.
The bells tolled twice.
Flowers silhouetted against my blood.
Wishes blossomed in your sweat.
I anointed your kiss.

Later, in the autumn, you wrote.
“I am in love with you. I do not understand how it happened.”
Neither do I.
I told you: that which is against our will is unjust.
I have no other answer.
Yet.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

If I say I love you #prose poem #flash fiction #short prose

In a flash my mind shows me a thousand streets tormented by loneliness. These streets – once the grand wine-presses of human bodies and cars – are now haunted by sickness and eaten by desolation.

It’s spring. The ocean’s water is warm like a country bread. I can taste it. The crisp crust, the sweetness of grains and earth melt on my tongue.

I miss you and the chestnut tree from that pastel afternoon when we first kissed.

Why did I love you? Of course, you were handsome, but it wasn’t that. I loved you because you could not have been conquered by the tricks with which a woman conquers most men. Why would I even want a man that any women with lipstick and stilettos can have?

I am digressing, am I not?

It’s spring. The water is red. Under the light of its pearls, flowers open like fresh young lips.

I avert my mind from the memory of your arms which tries to drag me inside an abyss of naked love; a love blessed with the force of the mistral and the sensuality of linked fingers under the moonlight.

The earth and the waters are one.

Yet the pain is heavy and filled with fluids like the chest cavity of a dead animal hanging up-side down.

I can see your boat. It’s beautiful.

The world is sick.

If I say I love you will you tell me what I can do to heal it?