Gabriela Marie Milton – Three Times #1 Amazon Bestselling Poet, Pushcart Nominee, Publisher
My poem “lovers without love” recited by the exceptional Robert Taylor. I am honored.
Sweet little piece – Lovers Without Love Written by @shortprose1 #spokenword #spokenpoetry @Spill_Words pic.twitter.com/2f1uDlxrPg
— Robert Taylor (@LairdOfTheHeart) September 7, 2019
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
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
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
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
@Gabriela Marie Milton
image: KHIUS; Shutterstock; [link]
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]
caressed together by the waters of Corinth
inside the darkest forests chasing statuary nymphs
the decadence of Hellenistic love
blissfully raining laughter from above
“the condo of the virgin” sitting empty
the goddess long dissolved into the néant
you softly reading Hebrew texts in Greek
the painful comedy of life on sale this week
@short-prose-fiction
first published in Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine; November 25, 2017
this summer
meet me in the Port of Naples
in humid nights inside the Palace of Capodimonte
let’s write again the “Human Comedy”
your love for me
a million of daggers
will cut the arteries of the blue sea
my luscious lips buried in blood and dust from the volcano
erotically settled in your poetry
against the coolness of the walls
your fingers, tracers of old tears
will mold us into a single body of loneliness and lust
sick with jealousy and shocked
a pale Campanian sunrise
whose rays, for centuries, barely can see
will find us walking hand in hand
along the quay…
forgotten in the Port of Naples
the memory of you and me
@short-prose-fiction
image: kasyanovart; Shutterstock, [link]
Memories of a humid summer, dripping with love, when you finished your book.
In the night red wax trickles over a torn page that says, “for you- whose love fills my life with joy and makes all things possible.”
My arms ache.
I try to pull you back from a memory abyss filled with pain.
Can I still make all things possible?
The walls stay silent.
@short-prose-fiction
