forbidden fruits #poem #poetry

forbidden fruits
gestate on the trees’ branches
shades of green invade the veins of earth
between your dreams and mine a creaking door
temptation
adulterated wine
a naked breast

Breton’s mad love had no forbidden fruit
my love has you
the anarchy of flesh crawls in the alphabet
the repertoire of mornings’ unmade beds
a naked ocean
my bruised hands
strawberry red

My poetry book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings: available for pre-order on April 14th; publication date April 20th.

Love and good health to everyone.
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

image:  Pagina; Shutterstock; [link]

 

between the sacred and profane #poem #poetry #amwriting

the laughter of the symbolists
morbid
disoriented cries of birds
I pantomime seduction just for you
a naked shoulder, flowers, glossy lips
the lace of stockings lower than it should
I rip the left side of your shirt
you devour me with silver spoons
our love, twin-bladed axe between the sacred and profane
stolen from the forehead of a legendary ox
the promise of tomorrow
the promise that we’ll meet
shadows of a painting signed Dali
both of us
children of the same insanity

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)
please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 

image: Guryanov Andrey; Shutterstock; [link]

 

mystic wedding #poetry #poem

wedding

it’s our wedding
it’s midnight
waves wash our naked feet
your face is shaved
my hair smells almonds
your tears cover my veiled lips

songs of nightingales
new pearls are braided on my dress
borrowed lace adorns my hips
your grandmother’s cross
sparks on my white chest

look!
leaves rustle in a tree
the water turns to wine
moons rise from the sea
like at the mystic wedding
in Cana of Galilee

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)
please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 

 

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]

 

Friday the thirteenth #poem #poetry

don’t wait for me
please find another lover
I’m riding camels with the Bedouins
I’ll enter Alexandria by morning
the day Mark Anthony committed suicide

don’t wait for me
please find another lover
I’m in the Île de la Cité on Friday the thirteenth
the Friday which forever will be feared
the smell of burning flesh is choking me
the Knights Templar are shedding tears

don’t write to me
until I’ll write to you again
lonely sunsets murmur in brown fumes
and in the night before His resurrection
like Mary Magdalene
I’m looking for a tomb

please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

image: Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock; [link]

 

wooden bed (rewritten) #poem #poetry

I know some fields
in which the poppies smile
when blonde sunsets play classical guitar
I know the coffee shop in which you stop
the gypsy lady who foretold our luck

I love you
and I’m sorry that you fell in love with me…
now please listen,
I do have to go
remember our waterfall we liked so much
don’t sell the wooden bed in which we first made love
the dress embroidered by my mother’s hands
save the letters that my father wrote before he died
and do not cry

I’m rushing
guards are coming
my wrists will be soon stamped
yours forever,
from a concentration camp

 

please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

 

My poem “the biblical sense of to know” published by Spillwords Press #poetry

the biblical sense of to know
born in a summer that never existed
nailed to the cross of your poems
I’m losing my mind inside the blue night
I reach you in dreams you do not understand
It hurts when I’m there….

Continue reading here

This poem first appear on this blog (slightly modified).

 

During my two and a half years of blogging I’ve been nominated for numerous blogging awards. My most sincere thanks to everyone who nominated me. My life is extremely hectic. I deeply apologize for not being able to reply to your nominations.
However, if you want to know more about me please read my Spillwords interview “Spotlight on Writers- Gabriela M

Here is an excerpt from the interview “…most fascinatingly America is a country of dreamers. We are all dreamers.”

Thank you!
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

image:  Anna Ismagilova; Sutterstock; [link]

 

“the night of candlelight and wine” a collaboration with Francisco Bravo Cabrera #poem #poetry

My Dear Readers,

the night of candlelight and wine a collaboration with Francisco Bravo Cabrera, an artist whose work I admire tremendously. Please visit Francisco’s site here

A rose with thorns you wrap around my wrist
I tie your eyes with scents of mandarins
your heartbeats spiral red Cabo de Palos winds
your touches gallop on my wildest dreams
Valencia, garden where the lovers meet
where statues chant the prayers of the hours
and where some other winds,
perhaps the winds of Lent, not ours
will lift Mediterranean sands so we can’t see,
sighs of the future that the two of us could be …
 
Their hands clap bulerías por soleá 
you and I, the same passion, we move to the same rhythm
your eyes undress a Carthaginian fountain 
my hands undress a shadow, is that you? 
we die in love as we had died before
in photographs that are not ours
in the port of Cartagena where we’ve never met
blindfolded looking for each other 
like hedonistic lovers in the nights of carnival
we speak in languages known only by the flesh
this is the night of candlelight and wine
the night of gaps between the piccolos and tubas 
you touch me with a branch of olives
I mark your skin with colored glass
until the morning rises from the sea
and thus… 
Valencia, look what’s happening to people like us

read my 2019 Spillwords Author of the Year interview here
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

image: Eki, by Francisco Bravo Cabrera, oil on canvas, 40x50cm

 

There is nobility in giving. Thank you to Brad Osborne

There is nobility in giving: the kind of nobility that those who rule the world in bullet points will never know.

Thank you to my blogger friend, Brad Osborne, for the joy he brought in my life yesterday. Brad wrote a poem about how much I inspire him. I am humbled by his words and I will never forget his noble gesture.
Please visit Brad’s site at commonsensiblyspeaking

Brad’s poem for me is called “You take me there.”
Here is the first stanza:

How is it that with simple phrase
You ply the paths inside my mind
Transported back to younger days
My life, somehow, put on rewind

Please read Brad’s entire poem and post here 

Thank you all.
Yours,
Gabriela

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)