I am the one – included in my upcoming poetry book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

I am the voice of your past loves
resounding in your wildest fantasies
dressed in roses at the altar of your dreams
I am the one you’ve never had
my soul flows from the tears of the Nile
from the hands of children who still beg
through ruins, darkness, and deep pain
through wars which they will never understand
I am the last who will be saved
for I have sinned under the shadow of His cross
when Spanish fountains cry in the sunset
I am the Desdemona who you’ve never met
today Granada’s just the place
in which García Lorca once was killed
I am the feather of a gold macaw bird
and in the city where bells toll
I am the one whose cries you’ve never heard.

first published in STRAW #zine, London, October 2018
included in my upcoming poetry book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings
please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

image: Anna Ismagilova; Shuterstock; [link]

triolets #poem #poetry

I wish to see you walk through the Arco de Elvira, to find out your name and shed a tear.” Federico García Lorca.

 

a violet sunset laments in the city
saps of triolets flow on my neck
ah, Granada
I stretch inside your memory
like felines on grasslands
a lily cries
my bracelets dangle
the eyes of candles flicker in your Spanish nights

fingers of lascivious desires
steal from my neck the saps of triolets
Granada
play your magical guitars
unleash the beauty hidden in your walls
the frenzy of the flesh which dies
into the ardent gestures of your dance
under La Puerta de Elvira
yesterday two lovers met
and I,
I wait in tears
for the love
which knows the mysteries of triolets

 

published by Spillwords Press on February 26, 2019

@short-prose-fiction 

hello miss (hola señorita) #poetry

travelers in colored carts

head to roads of no return

a fortune teller speaks of love

milk and honey wait for me

mama’s young

the lilac is in bloom

the hands of the rose garden

wave to me

i turn the key of the blue room

 

the time leaps forward

and i walk the streets of old Granada

swollen dreams of paintings and guitars

i stumble on your body’s heat

your arm rises in the air

your eyes gleam cinnamon and green

your laughter cracks the galaxies

“hola señorita

you grew up

just to meet me”