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

Maria is a little girl
who walks barefoot
across the desert
coyotes howl under the moon
Maria walks
her heart is small
her dreams are big
a cactus waves at her
and blooms
one day Maria will grow up
and she will buy herself
some shoes

@short-prose-fiction

image: thi/Shuterstock

My Dear Readers,
My poem “Forgotten in the Port of Naples” is up at Spillwords Press.
Thanks you for your support. Love and hugs to everyone.

this summer
meet me in the Port of Naples
in humid nights inside the Palace of Capodimonte…
please continue reading here:

@short-prose-fiction

image: S-F; Shutterstock; [link]

i can’t see you
the spring’s floral certitude
showers petals in my eyes
lingers on veils forgotten at the altars
dreams interpret the language of cicadas
somebody plays the violin in the green room
like a flamenco dancer in Seville
i toss and turn inside my soul
your breath scatters on my neck
i stretch my arms to harvest poems
tongues of fire from your eyes
linger on my silky dress
i fall
rose thorns bite my thighs
it smells earth and grass from an old spring
i turn the page
i close my eyes
and i can see you

@short-prose-fiction

image: Stadnikova Mariya; Shutterstock; [link]

love strikes like the Mistral in Saint-Tropez
winds, hallucinations of pianos,
decide to howl in D major
enigmas move inside the wombs
incubations murmur under the phases of the moon
bewitched, allegories of love raise odes to exasperated nudes
a prophet gazes at a virgin sybil
whose liquid eyes foretold our love in gold
reflections, lava of our souls,
a mirror hangs itself onto the wall in the red room
a phoenix rises
our bodies drown
into the liquid time of the Mediterranean
amor, amore, mon amour
the splendid flesh of a gestating poem
washes our singular and frenzied souls

from the series “Mediterranean Love”
read more poems from this series here:
Greek summer
Andalusian resurrection
forgotten in the Port of Naples

@short-prose-fiction

image: Gaspar Janos, Shutterstock, [link]

Riddled with their mediocrities and their anxieties days possess me.
…
Oh, how few of us can find the splendor which lies in the infinite magic beyond the days.

@short-prose-fiction

image: Kiselev Andrey Valerevich, Shuttershtock; [link]

My Dear Readers,

I thanked you many times for your likes and comments. I thank you again today.

Also, today I am humbled and delighted by the comments Christina Schwarz, the author of the New York Times Bestseller “Drowning Ruth,” sent me after reading my poetry manuscript.

“With lush language and lavish imagery, Gabriela M. evokes a fantastic world ripe with emotion.”
Christina Schwartz

Below please find a fragment from one of my “evening fantasies”:

contaminated with verses my rebellious red blood ran from my heart to yours;
the smell of orange trees bloomed in my hair like in those forgotten Sunday afternoons in which we used to make love;
i saw the pregnant egg yolk – heavy as the passion of a tropical night – the imperishable yellow from around your finger;
a green iguana blinked and opened its “third eye” inscribing on my thighs the fairy-tales of the women you loved;
a bird gave me the evil eye: children’s fingers colored in blue hung on the Hand of Fatima trying to protect me;
it smelled love;
caressed by leaves i fell into the field of poppies in which we first met.

Yours,

@short-prose-fiction

image: MoinMoin; Shutterstock; [link]

My poem “the cello” published by Vita Brevis.
Please read it here.
Love and hugs to everyone.

image: Zolotarevs; Shutterstock; [link]

My Dear Readers,
My newest poem “bewitched” published by the Indian Periodical.

perhaps I was bewitched by the North Star
or by a ballad as dateless as my blood
geography of feelings populates unwanted interludes
my eyes, the nests of dewy grass and leaves
emerald eyelashes flaunt
please continue reading here

Love and hugs to everyone!
G.

image: May_Lana; Shutterstock; [link]

Dear Readers,
My poem “the ridicule of the unknown” published by Vita Brevis.
I want you to know how much I appreciate you reading my work and inspiring me.
Yours
G.

your eyes, the prohibition of cold winters
my eyes, the wanderers of earth
a copper sea mimics the candor
silence flies over the same archipelago
ah, Madeira
golden feathers are your waters
your lips taste wine
please continue reading here

@short-prose-fiction