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

Jorm S; Shutterstock

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

Sweetness #prose poem #poetry #short prose

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is shutterstock_603319382-300x200.jpg
IrenaStar; Shutterstock

Scents of linden trees illuminated by an old oil lamp.
The night is me.
I am the night where love delights dwell.
Shed you skin and come with me where minutes melt like chocolate on the tongue of a child.
You, sweetness from beyond the body, what can one say about you?

=

Passions featured in San Francisco Book Review
Passions featured in Manhattan Book Review.

Thank you.
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton

My Poem Fight Published by Kashmir Pen Newspaper #poetry #published poem #prose poem

Liliya Kulianionak; Shutterstock

I am grateful to Mushtaq Bala – the Editor-In-Chief of KASHMIR PEN – for inviting me to publish my work in his newspaper.

Fight

Purple roots cover all trails that go to the foothills.
Veins that the earth pushed to the surface.
I smell lavender.
Your words grow in the breeze like a dough under the whispers of the moon. 
For three thousand years, sung by the poets of this land,
the naked shoulder of the mountain reigned in stillness.
The sky made itself invisible into a wooden box where my grandmother kept her rings:
memories of loves that now fit in a small chamber.
The sea and the afternoon’s breaths eclipse the taste of your colors. 
The blue that slipped between the same branches of the old poplar tree
stares me in the eyes.
Clouds ossify the fight of the earth against the earth.
Between my palms the body of a thin yellow candle.
I remember walking on a street where children were hungry and had no shoes.
I took my shoes off and wiped my tears with the back of palms.
Under my eyes the skin became red and rough.  
I wrote I love you on your left cheek. 
I threw all the silver coins I had onto the dust of the street.
They were meant for the dead.
Let them help the living.
I remember your hand caressing the silk of my dress.
I purge all memories except one that belongs to the future.
You and I chanting to the incarnation of love under a tree on the island where I was born.
The island where it is always spring and the earth that does not fight against the earth.
Did I tell you I was born on an island?

Fight was published together with If Only … Autumn in the 19, 2020 November edition of KASHMIR PEN.

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.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Will you vote for me? My poem “If I Say I Love You” runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords

My poem, “If I Say I Love You” runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords Press NYC.

Will you vote If I Say I Love You by Gabriela M for publication of the month?

Please vote here.

You don’t need a Spillwords account to vote though it is easy to open one. You can vote with your Twitter or your FB account.

I will be delighted to have your vote. However, you should feel free to vote for whomever you think is deserving. All nominees are fantastic writers.

The voting will begin on the 26th of each month at 12:00am Easter Time
The voting will last for 4 Days.

Thank you.
Love
Gabriela

On November 2019 my poem The Breath of Love and Death was voted Publication of the Month at Spillwords.

featured image: Lyudmyla Kharlamova; Shutterstock; [link]

@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?

Please read my Spillwords Author of the Year (2019) interview here 

My thanks again to Kevin Morris – a wonderful poet – for interviewing me. Please read Kevin’s interview with me here.

Love and good health to everyone.
Gabriela

© Gabriela Marie Milton

Heaven and earth #short prose #flash fiction #prose poem

Heaven and earth change places.
The core of the earth shines. Rays pierce waters, beamed from below, springing from the phosphorescent floor.
Dark corridors open in the walls.
I put my hand in the water.
My hand metamorphosizes into bright silver.
Noise. A nymph?! Oh, that pristine beauty which always dethrones Aphrodite’s pagan looks.
I don’t want to leave. This is the only place I’ve known where any remembrance of human neurosis dissipates like morning fog.
“Clara we can’t stay here. We need to leave.”
“Miguel, I am not leaving. You said everything for me.”
“Clara, they don’t sell the damn grotto. If they did, I’d buy it for you. We need to leave.”
“I am not leaving.”
The light from the water floats inside his eyes.
How beautiful.
How seductive.
Is he angry with me?

(excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers)

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

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: Timur Kulgarin; Shuterstock; [link]

© short-prose-fiction (Gabriela Marie Milton)

Lonely Saturdays #poem #prosepoem #poetry

The ankle of an iceberg cries. Its tears fell on my body.
They crust on my skin like cold wax on a rack of votive candles.
Seconds hurt like lonely Saturdays.
I lie in bed.
Roses scent the air.
My dreams burn. Ashes of our nights of love cover the sun.
My eyes dilate under the gravity of time.
I taste figs and wild forest.
The room moves on another longitude.
Is it morning?
Is it Saturday?
Where are you?

related: Sunday on another latitude

@Gabriela Marie Milton

image: bruniewska; Shutterstock; [link]