Adam’s sin #poem #poetry #published

a canary sings
nuptial interludes
your flesh pays its tribute to some other lovers
transitory birds
come and go like seasons
noisy V-shaped flocks
i sigh
then i listen to a monk who reads
from a book of psalms
rings sleep on my fingers
arabesque designs shiver on my skin
pastel sunsets whisper in the winter’s sheen

i walk through your dreams
soaked in poetry, baptized by your verses
your heart adorns my chest
(work of ancient minters)
your lips burn my rings, and with them my fingers
agonizing wings toll bells in the air
i go for your veins, my hands rip your shirt
everything’s a dream
at the edge of silence
mirrors sleep and grin

you’re forever mine!
do you think i joke?
wait!
here’s the silver coin which can get you off

ah,
that’s what i thought
you would never take it
in the lovers’ bed monasticism’s asleep
a cat purrs on my thigh
your eyes become my eyes
my skin tastes like sweet pie
see, why Adam was so keen to sin?
for hidden in deep waters
You is always I
even in a dream

Published by Spillwords on January 22, 2019

@short-prose-fiction

image: PinkCat/Shutterstock

 

my poem “feel me my love” will be published by Z Publishing House into their upcoming anthology #poem #poetry

Dear Readers,

My poem “feel me my love” will be published by Z Publishing House into their 2019 upcoming anthology.

Most editors and publishers contact me via this blog. My most sincere thanks to them and to you for your likes, comments, and views.

Here is a snippet from my poem:

between your spade
and the incandescence of the hurt bull
the blood and sweat of a forgotten afternoon

Hugs to everyone

Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction

 

prayers (intersession, adoration, confession) #poem #poetry

whisper,
you who know to whisper
intercessions
(prayers on behalf of others)
songs of love and songs of sorrow
for the sailors from the depths of the tomorrow
sleepy bibles rub their eyes
in the Basilica of San Nicola

whisper,
you who know to whisper
adorations
(homages to blooming flowers)
on Sunday afternoon the air is moist
the tropic breathes mangoes and strawberries
white linen heated bodies covers
symphonies are lusting for their lovers

and,
when you will reach the point of the confession
stop whispering
kneel in front of me
i am your love
your sin, and your redemption
i don’t know past
i don’t know future
i am the last verse of an unknown psalm
and the forever ardor
captured in between your palms

draft
@short-prose-fiction
image: Elena Ray/Shutterstock

 

founders of love #poem #poetry

I patch your wounds
you kiss my hands
I scream
you laugh
the Spinner threads our life
the Archer shoots the moon
sanctified
our house grows in trees
your hands and mine
founders of love
a church bell tolls
I steer the boat
you raise the sail
serenities of underwater stars
another brick
another tear
another year

@short-prose-fiction

image: ArtEver; Shutterstock, [link]

 

Love Battles #short prose #flash fiction

Rage darkened Miguel’s green eyes. His blood was boiling. Bible in one hand, sword in the other, breathing heavily, determined not to let his Spanish Armada be sunk the second time.

Ha! And by whom? By a Frenchman?!

Wasn’t Jacques supposed to spend his entire life alluring the other sex?

Oh, how wrong all of us were to judge Jacques like that!

And how dearly we were to pay for that juvenile judgement of ours.

Steely blue eyes, coat of arms engraved on his shield, Jacques was fighting to conquer only one heart: the heart of the woman who Miguel loved.
*
Both of them reduced me to a war trophy.

In the old, beautifully tiled hacienda, darkness broke loose.

 

Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers

@short-prose-fiction

image:  ELORDUY; Shuttershock; [link]

 

lovers without love #poem #poetry

you, quest of lovers without love
your unrelenting islands beaten by the wind-blown sand
the sea
extends its waves beyond the singularity of night
the silk of clouds is looking for the sky
scales of reeds chime songs,
cries of those whose loves have sunk

I bathe in the aromatic rose of the moonlight
the night bathes in the foam of the blue waters
a bed sighs
the silhouettes of three carnations gossip on the floor
alienation
empty hearts expecting to be slaughtered

the sand receives me
in the distance a mast decides to flicker
the quest of lovers without love
on a wicker chair
a lonely glove

@short-prose-fiction

image:  KHIUS; Shutterstock; [link]

 

languor of love #poem #short prose

Clocks drip languor.
White drapes undulate in the breeze of a faraway sea.
The fragrance of oranges blossoms in my hair.
Mysteries of the blue waters exude from your salty skin.
Moorish patterns engrave themselves onto my thighs.
Teardrops scent the air.
Our afternoons: never born, never allowed to die.
Love.

@short-prose-fiction

image: nito; Shutterstock; [link]

 

Crazy in love with you #short prose #flash fiction

Galleria dell’Accademia, Florence, July 28

“Clara, he needs a haircut.”
“Who?”
Miguel rolls his eyes.
“David.”
“For crying out loud, he is a statue.”
“So? I wonder where the closest barbershop is.”
“Miguel, are you crazy?”
“Yep. Crazy in love with you.”

Excerpt from the manuscript “Glass Lovers”

@short-prose-fiction

image: Marc Little, Shutterstock; [link]