Knowing – poem/poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton and an update on Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women

Corsica – beach

Knowing – poem/poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton

Around me “all-knowing” people. Happy because they think they know. Yet what brings them happiness is what they do not know. Ignorance repeats itself with the precision with which Big Ben tells the time.

These days the child has an imaginary friend called Li Boo. One night an avocado seed crawled on the north wall of the mansion, reached the roof, and bloomed to the sound of a fanfare that happened to go by. Li Boo came out of the bloom, wrapped in sea silk, blueberry eyes, strawberry lips gasping for moonlight.

Back in our bedroom I throw at you stars dressed in chiffon skirts.  Roads toward tomorrow break the walls.  The air smells mastic, cyclamen, and rockroses: the smell of the Corsican maquis; the essence of Corsica.  Sirens.  Homer’s Odyssey. Occupations. Feuds. Purification of Sunday’s water.

Another fanfare goes by. A lizard shakes her head pointing toward the West. Your raspy voice turns toward the South. It flickers in pine trees. It slithers in the white sand. It goes beyond the taste of the daily bread.

Li Boo, sweet tears on his cheek, salt and rose petals in his boots, disappears into my consciousness.

I know nothing. Another claim to fame. Did you smile, my love?

An Update on Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women

Ingrid just received the paperback proof of Wounds I Healed. I am truly thrilled. Please read more here.

Thank you to everyone who plans to join me and Ingrid on Twitter Space on June 4, at 9 am CT – 10 am ET (USA) for a lively discussion and more updates on our anthology Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women. By saving and clicking on the link below you can listen to the discussion even if you do not have a Twitter account. Please share the link with those you think may be interested. I can’t wait to talk to those of you who can attend.

Twitter Space Link

https://twitter.com/i/spaces/1lDxLLreevkxm

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

Ghosts by Gabriela Marie Milton #flash fiction #short prose #poetic prose

Edvard Munch, Weeping Nude, Public Domain

Ghosts by Gabriela Marie Milton

I spend most of my time in the house. I rarely write anymore. I remember what you once said, I believe you were quoting: Culture has become a demonstration of nothingness. It moves with a terrifying speed in direct proportionality with our appetite for fame.

Three times a year fleshy, peachy roses are still being delivered. They have my name on.  It happens mid-day, at the exact time when I take sedatives before immersing myself in a bath infused with scented Dead Sea Salt. Dried flowers float in the water. They stain my skin. They make me think summer by our lake: scents of blue irises; somnolent movements of algae.

Nights are cruel. No nightingales. Tree branches hit the master suite’s windows even when the air is soft like the breath of a new baby.  Half-naked, lying on the sofa I think Wuthering Heights. Catherine’s ghost knocking on the window. In the dark, Lockwood pushing his hand through the glass. Her cold hand. Her voice. She wants to get in.  

Inscriptions: Catherine Heathcliff; Catherine Linton…  

I kneel and scratch your name under the frame of every bedroom window. I wait.

The windows start rattling. I pick the middle one. I push my hand through the glass. Pain. The warmth of my blood. The ferocity of wounds. Voices coming from the gooseberry bushes.

You.

Come in my love […]

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

My name is Gabriela (II) #flash fiction #short prose #poetic prose

Head of a Woman’ by Jean Jacques Henner, Public Domain

Flash Fiction by Gabriela Marie Milton

My name is Gabriela. Papa used to call me Marie.

One night the moon stretched in our bed, its lips sultry, its breasts soft like two humongous cotton candies bought by the Holyoke Merry-Go-Round Carousel. That night your cascading laughter made all naked desires hide under the bed. I tried to drag them out. I couldn’t.

Later, head on your shoulder I looked at the stars through the broken ceiling, my eyes plagued by an inexorable yearning to prove my existence. I don’t know why. Those who want to prove their existence live in the realm of the inexistent. They are bizarre people who write love letters to themselves trying to deceive others.  Any trick is a cry for recognition. Any cry for recognition is a basic assertion of impotence.

What was I doing? Oh, I was trying to get into my red dress. I couldn’t get it over my hips. The humidity of the night must have made it stick to my skin. Did you laugh again?  Stop. Put your shirt on. We’re going out.

Anyway, I was talking about the absence of existence itself which always leads to sorcery. The skin of an eel caught in the spring, dried, stuffed with rose petals and rosemary, chopped and hidden behind the head of the bed. A night spent in that bed will haunt the two lovers for life. Like I haunt you.  

How did you call me? Why did you use that name? Yes, it is my first name, but nobody uses it. Everyone calls me Gabriela.

Stop calling me Anastasia. I am not resurrected yet. I don’t know who Anastasia is. I’ve never met her. But don’t get fooled. That doesn’t make her less dangerous than me.

Follow me on Twitter here.

Thank you.

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

Poem by Gabriela Marie Milton #poetry

image: Shutterstock

Poem

Follow me on Twitter – here

Gabriela Marie Milton
#1 Amazon Bestseller Author
Books:
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings

I am my mother’s daughter – short prose by Gabriela Marie Milton #flash fiction

lounisproduction; pixabay

I am my mother’s daughter – short prose by Gabriela Marie Milton

I am not who you think I am. My loves are the result of my interiorities in which meanings lie. “Outside” is an illusion. I do not seek the attention of the cup bearer. I am the cup bearer.

It was evening. I was five years old. Mama wore a beautiful dress, pale lines of fresh green dripping on her body. Curves, rose scents, pearled skin. She looked ravishing.

Phlegmatic look on his face Papa smoked Arturo Fuente cigars. He said: That dress is too short.

Mama did not answer. She entered the house. I followed her. She went in the yellow room. The room had a large French tapestry on the left wall. She took a pair of scissors and cut her dress shorter.

The next morning, she looked even more ravishing.  

The thought came to me in the afternoon. A big smile appeared on my face. I ran into my room and took out all my little dresses from the wardrobe. Armed with a scissor, I proceeded to the terrace. One by one I cut all dresses trying to make them shorter. I was ecstatic. I thought of how happy Mama would be. I swear I saw the roses dancing in the garden.  

I am my mother’s daughter.
My sweet love, should I cut my dress shorter?

MasticadoresUSA update

Congratulations to my fellow editors of the Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Romanian, and other editions of Gobblers/Masticadores on their performances.

May I please get some help? There are several new poems up at MasticadoresUSA. Please visit the site here and support your wonderful fellow poets. Do not forget to follow the site.

Thank you.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Cruel Sunsets by Gabriela Marie Milton #poem #poetry #short prose

 Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock

Cruel Sunsets by Gabriela Marie Milton

Summer sunsets with their cruel debaucheries of orange and purple. Concentrated scents of saffron and roses in the hallways. Dates filled with marzipan.  I crave sweetness like I crave you.

Nightmares. A sailor drowned a cat at sea. Someone paid him to do it.

I cannot breathe anymore.  

Last night in one of the upstairs bedrooms the child’s toys changed places. A candle lit by itself.

I do not wish you were here. I am beyond that. My blood flows in the opposite direction. I am the plenitude of my febrilities. I am incandescent.

Remember that scene from Jane Eyre? Bertha: beautiful, exotic, insane, locked in a room. Bertha whom Rochester married in Jamaica. Every time he tried to open the door she would rush to tear him apart. Why am I thinking Bertha?

I can see you walking in the streets of another continent. I can hear your murmurs by the sea.

I still cannot breathe.

My darling, “will you still be loving me when the summer is gone?” 

MasticadoresUSA Update

There are several new poems up at MasticadoresUSA. Please visit the site here and support your fellow poets. Do not forget to follow the site.

Thank you.

Have a beautiful summer everyone.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Hallucinations – poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton – MasticadoresUSA update

image: kasiaczernik/Pixabay

Hallucinations by Gabriela Marie Milton

I suspect I am subject to hallucinations. I see a woman wrapped in a Cashmere checkered shawl talking to a dead person. The metaphors she uses are stolen, and her heavy makeup reminds me vaguely of a harlequin. Perhaps the shawl projected its sick personality into her, or perhaps she regressed to an infantile state under my very eyes.

She looks like a lacerated doll attached to one of Cuixar’s canvases.

Did you talk? Are you here?

My love, yesterday I read your poems. Your spellbound words reclaimed my very existence. Letters fell into my cupped palms. From the mirror the contour of your body – textured like ripened mangoes under a third eclipse of the moon – entered my world. Your words adapted to my lips. They absorbed the piano’s euphoria with its marvelous rhythmicity.  Our happiness became imperative like the birth of a child at 39 weeks.

Today I am back – albeit sedated – inside the ambivalence of my own introspections swinging from one site to another like the Kirby Cove swing above the Pacific Ocean.

I do not see the woman anymore, but I can still see the dead person. The throbbing pain of Cuixar’s paintings and your absence become unbearable.  

When I do not cry myself to death, I pretend you are here.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

MasticadoresUSA Update

A new beautiful poem is now up at MasticadoresUSA.

Read Two Hearts by Phil Perkins here.

Do not forget to follow MasticadoresUSA.

Do you want to submit? Please read the editorial announcement here.
Thank you
Gabriela

Butterflies always die – poetic prose by Gabriela Marie Milton #poetry #poetic prose

HAJI21-cz; Pixabay

In times of fortune and misfortune I am always at the mercy of silence. Perhaps because I was born on an island where seldom does anything happen.

Yesterday the water and the light invaded my tongue’s buds, and I was forced to look at myself upside down. I could see the splendor of a naked butterfly ready to mate. Do you know for how long do two butterflies stay together? Sixteen hours. The exact time we spent together in the silence of the island.

Suspended in the between times neither of us moved. No cosmic sacrifice happened. No driving force was brought to life. No blood interfered between …. please continue reading at MasticadoresUSA.

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My book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings featured in San Francisco Book Review and Manhattan Book Review.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

in love with you – poem by Gabriela Marie Milton #poetry #poetry collection

Kiselev Andrey Valerevich; Shutterstock

The sky rains on my spring the sweet scents of your autumn.

A luxurious paralysis flows through my veins.

My lips nestle in the plenitude of your dreams with their multiple interpretations.

I am so in love with you that I will accept hell provided you are part of it.  

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My book Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings featured in San Francisco Book Review and Manhattan Book Review.

@Gabriela Marie Milton

Will you vote for me? My piece Dematerialization runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords NYC

My Dear Readers,
My piece Dematerialization (by Gabriela M) runs first for Publication of the Month at Spillwords Press. Will you please vote for me? You do not need a Spillwords account to vote. You can vote using your Facebook or Twitter account. The window that opens below allows you to do so.

Please vote here.

Publication of the Month

  1. Publications are nominated 100% based on the popularity within the last 30 days
  2. The voting will begin on the 26th of each month at 12:00am Eastern Time
  3. The voting will last for 4 Days

You can read my piece here.

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.

Thank you!
Love.
Gabriela

@Gabriela Marie Milton