A POEM BY GABRIELA MARIE MILTON AND A PHOTO BY NAOKI KIMURA

Good morning/good evening, my cherished followers:

Today: A POEM BY GABRIELA MARIE MILTON AND A PHOTO BY NAOKI KIMURA.

I hope you enjoy:

PHOTO

Naoki Kimura

POEM/SHORT PROSE

She perched at the corner of the old archway, her floral dress blooming against the steel, her eyes the green of rain-soaked moss.

“Hey, lady. Want me to read your future?”
“No, thank you.”
“Ever been sick?”
“No.”
“Ever had surgery?”
“No.”
“Broken bones?”
“No.”
“They’ve tied your health.”
“What?”
“Now, they can’t touch you.”
“Who are they?”

She laughed—a strange, yellow laughter, sweet and sour.

“Let me tell you your future.”
“No, thanks.”

I quickened my pace, heart thumping.

When I reached the center of the arch, I glanced back. She was gone—vanished like a forgotten dream.

My future flickered before my eyes:
a vision in black and white, sharp as shadows, silent as stone.

It rained that day.

My books (Only English)
#1 Amazon bestseller, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis)
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Women: Splendor and Sorrow (Vita Brevis)

Thank you to all my followers who reviewed my books.
Please read other reviews here:

Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: Love Poems and Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton in Portland Book Review
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow: Love Poems and Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton in Manhattan Book Review
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings in San Francisco by Gabriela Marie Milton in San Francisco Book Review
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings by Gabriela Marie Milton In Manhattan Book Reviews

IDENTITY – POETIC PROSE BY GABRIELA MARIE MILTON

Anything can be said about that city, but one can never say that it lacks a distinct identity.

During the humid autumn evenings, the city looks like a wounded being, nursing her own lacerations. On the sidewalks, the smell of dust overpowers the stench of cigarettes and alcohol coming from her tiny, obscure pubs.

Clandestine rising to power, luxury cars zipping by, casinos filled with shady characters, rats zig-zagging in the basements of old buildings. Plenty of frustrations run through the city’s blood like thousands of white blood cells through the veins of an infected patient.

A sea of beggars at every street corner: amputated hands, deep lesions, wrinkled faces painted in the colors of dirt. Pain exposed in plain view like art objects in museums: the only difference being that pain is free; the entry in most museums is not.

In that city, our story began: a story in which we created and destroyed loves, trusted and betrayed friendships, invented beauty only to eradicate it at the first sign of dawn.

We tried to satisfy our egos. We ended up fulfilling the city’s need to devour us.

My books (Only English)
#1 Amazon bestseller, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis)
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Women: Splendor and Sorrow (Vita Brevis)

Thank you to all my followers who reviewed my books.
Please read other reviews here:

“With lush language and lavish imagery, Gabriela M. evokes a fantastic world ripe with emotion.”
Christina Schwarz, the author of the New York Times Bestseller “Drowning Ruth.”

The Six O’clock Café – Short Story by Gabriela Marie Milton

The night had too many eyes, too many tears, and too many candles. It left sticky traces of wax in our souls. Escaped from its unbearable seduction, the morning light felt like a benediction: the smell of fresh brewed coffee, the whiteness of the tablecloth, the raspberry cobblers aligned on the window of the freezer, your eyes clearer than any mountain spring ever known.

We finished our coffees. Christina, the waitress, blew us a kiss and then threw her hands in the air. Her high-pitched voice rang in my ears:

“Don’t forget to return to the Six O’clock Café, you love birds.”

“We will be back tomorrow.”

I saw the trolley moving like a red sleepwalking worm through the windows. We rushed out.

We watched the city and the sea come to life from our chairs, side by side. It was a bridal time filled with the smell of salt and sweet oranges. Your lips trembled, and you spoke about our wedding.

We were going to get married on a boat. We would leave the shore on a Sunday morning. Behind us, all church bells would toll. I would wear a simple dress made from hemp, and a crown of pink fresh roses gathered the midnight before our marriage when the moon rose from the waters. A huge basket filled with a thousand cherries would be set at our feet to make our marriage as sweet as their flesh. Blue and white threads wrapped around our wrists would protect us forever.

The end of the line.

How did we end up at the Six O’clock Café again? The trolley must have gone in a circle. We laughed, got off the trolley, and entered the place.

I thought everything looked strange. The refrigerator was now on the other wall, and the tablecloths were no longer white. A long-faced waiter passed me.

I asked:

“Is Christina here?”

“Christina? Oh, Christina quit working here five years ago.”

Numb, I looked at you. There was something deeper than desperation in your eyes. Something that I could not translate.

Your arms pull me to your chest. I could hear your whisper.

“Please tell me we are married.”

I looked at my fingers. I had no wedding band.

Reminder

Please stay tuned for more updates on Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku. Tentative publication date: late April. Publisher Literary Revelations.

My books (Only English)
#1 Amazon bestseller, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis)
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Women: Splendor and Sorrow (Vita Brevis)

Thank you to all my followers who reviewed my books.
Please read other reviews here:

Christina Schwarz, the author of the New York Times Bestseller “Drowning Ruth.”

On Winning and Hate by Gabriela Marie Milton – poetic prose – short prose -prose poem

The afternoon smelled of brick; I used to scratch the wall with my knees and nails on my way to the sea.

My blood stained my socks and fed the roots of the orange tree Mama planted one spring before my seventh birthday. Soon after, the tree grew blood oranges.

I used to dream I would reach the port before crickets would serenade the white cement between the bricks, and the evening wind would sew the wounds from the face of the wall.

I needed a God to lead me to the sea. In Mama’s stories, there were too many Gods leading souls to heaven. I did not want to go to heaven. I wanted to go to the sea.

I used to fail. I did not understand what failure is. The next afternoon, little ducks embroidered on the rim of my blue dress, I would start climbing the wall again.

One day I thought I would get to the port and run straight into the sea.

Little did I know that the day would come when I would first look into your eyes. The sea inside your eyes is like laundry left to dry on a wire. Long red poles floundered left and right like the wings of a moribund bird. The body of a boat eroded by salt, and by the kisses of the women of your past agonized in green and blue.

Your eyes: on the right, your love for me, and on the left, your hate for the world.

Did I say your love for me? You see, over time, I had to reconsider that formulation. Your feelings resembled more a never-ending animal magnetism than love.

Let me make one thing clear. No one person is sufficient to drive all demons from another one. You can think of Goethe’s elective affinities if you wish. I cannot save you from you. You need to help me. I can carry this conversation into the night and win.

Ah, winning! The day I understood I can win, I stepped into hell.

That day was the day I lost my innocence and, with that, paradise. Since then, my blood has never stained my socks. The orange tree has never grown red-fleshed oranges, and Mama stopped telling stories.

featured image: Gabriela Marie Milton, Greece.

My books (Only English)
#1 Amazon bestseller, Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings (Vita Brevis)
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Women: Splendor and Sorrow (Vita Brevis)

Thank you to all my followers who reviewed my books.
Please read other reviews here:

Christina Schwarz, the author of the New York Times Bestseller “Drowning Ruth.”

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

Edited Collections:
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Hidden in Childhood (Literary Revelations)
#1 Amazon bestseller,Petals of Haiku (Literary Revelations)
#1 Amazon Bestseller, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (EIF)

Destinies by Gabriela Marie Milton

Happy December my dear readers! May your month be filled with joy!

A short poetic prose and a reminder

Destinies

Our destinies caught in the deep lines of my left palm.

With my right index finger, I trace those lines again and again, until I cannot breathe anymore, until my left palm bleeds.

None of us can be judged outside endless flights between continents, outside of our tears and of our love for art, outside of the slippery slope that runs from amitié amoureuse to deep impassioned love.

One day all of us will have to understand that the past should stay in the past. That day is inscribed in my left palm together with our pain, and our tendencies toward the kind of love that transcends any earthly boundaries.

Please do nor forget that Literary Revelations recently published Celebrating Poetry by Cindy Georgakas. The book was a Top Release in American Poetry and Inspirational Poetry.

Please check it out HERE.

Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton. Happy Solstice!

Poetic Prose by Gabriela Marie Milton

Come with me where fish are born and horizons melt like chocolate on the tongue of a child.

Waters.

I want to remark that the italic text above has been used by two writers after being posted on this blog. My advise: Be you!

Please do not forget to check out Literary Revelations‘ #1 Amazon bestseller in Haiku and Japanese Poetry, Petals of Haiku: An Anthology. This superb collection features the work of over 160 talented poets. The art on the cover by award-winning painter Hikari sets the tone for what awaits inside – a world where words dance off the page and into your heart. The background photo by award-winning Japanese photographer Naoki Kimura adds another layer of beauty to this already exquisite collection.

The book together with Hikari’s painting of the cover will be displayed in the Treasure House of the Rinsenji Temple, Japan,

Gabriela Marie Milton
2022 Pushcart Prize Nominee
Publisher, Editor, Award Winning & #1 Amazon Bestselling Author

On Love and Novels #literature #prose #fiction

He was a great novelist. He avoided the big juvenile traps: on the one hand, repeatedly writing about one’s childhood and one’s limited experiences, and, on the other hand, confining his characters to slogans such as do good or better days are ahead.

He knew he went against the grain of what was considered acceptable in his country; a country in which the novel frequently used everything from camaraderie to horror, and from war to sex, in order to avoid the birth of a new Emma Bovary. Emma’s sensuality would have scandalized a society in which some, if not most, deified violence and crucified sensual love. Should I mention The Scarlet Letter?

He loved me. In his last note to me he wrote:

“Love and sensuality include divination: a thirst for deciphering the signs inscribed in the sacred area of our subconscious, a craving for knowing what the future holds, and the supplication that providence or god will fulfill our desires.

How much we want that which is not only given to us but that which we create too: Mircea Eliade’s homo religiosus, that alter-ego who lives inside us and conjures the meanings we create in sacred times and spaces.

Love and sensuality are the well of eternity.

Will I advise you to write about love? No.

Yet I know you will do it.”

Coming soon from Literary Revelations

A call for a poetry anthology
A book for children
Please subscribe and stay tuned for more news. Literary Revelations brings you poetry, short prose, art, and interviews,

Gabriela Marie Milton
2022 Pushcart Prize Nominee
Publisher, Editor, Award Winning & #1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:

Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology (ed.), Literary Revelations, 2023
Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (ed.), Experiments in Fiction, 2022.
Woman: Splendor and Sorrow :I Love Poems and Poetic Prose, Vita Brevis Press, 2021.
Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, Vita Brevis Press, 2020

On Winning and Hate By Gabriela Marie Milton #poetic prose #short prose

On Winning and Hate

The afternoon smelled of brick; the wall I used to scratch with the knees and the nails on my way to the sea.

My blood stained my socks and fed the roots of the orange tree mama planted one spring before my seventh birthday. Soon after, the tree grew blood oranges.

I used to dream I would reach the port before crickets would serenade the white cement between the bricks, and the evening wind would sew the wounds from the face of the wall.

I needed a God to lead me to the sea. In Mama’s stories, there were too many Gods leading souls to heaven. I did not want to go to heaven. I wanted to go to the sea.

I used to fail. I did not understand what failure is. The next afternoon, little ducks embroidered on the rim of my blue dress, I would start climbing the wall again.

One day I thought I would get to the port and run straight into the sea.

Little did I know that day came when I first looked into your eyes. The sea inside your eyes like laundry left to dry on a wire. Long red poles floundered left and right like the wings of a moribund bird. The body of a boat eroded by salt, and by the kisses of the women of your past agonized in green and blue.

The sea inside your eyes: on the right your love for me, and on the left, your hate for the world.

Did I say your love for me? You see, over time, I had to reconsider that formulation. Your feelings resembled more a never-ending animal magnetism than love.

Let me make one thing clear. No one person is sufficient to drive all demons from another one. You can think Goethe’s elective affinities if you wish. I cannot save you from you. You need to help me. I can carry this conversation into the night and win.

Ah, winning! The day I understood I can win, I stepped into hell.

That day was the day I lost my innocence and with that the paradise. Since then, my blood has never stained my socks anymore. The orange tree has never grown red-fleshed oranges, and Mama stopped telling stories.

featured image: Gabriela Marie Milton, Greece.

Included in my book Woman: Splendor and Sorrow

Gabriela Marie Milton
2022 Pushcart Prize Nominee
Publisher, Editor, Award Winning & #1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:

Piraeus – prose poem by Gabriela Marie Milton & more news on Literary Revelations

Piraeus by Gabriela Marie Milton

Tongues of white and blue licking the remnants of the old wall. Piraeus, the breeze marries us in its arms, smell of bittersweet oranges, salt, and strong coffee on your chest. The insanity of a lemon phyllo tart grabs at my lips. A nude sea struggles to stay awake.

The same taverna with its small tables, white chairs, and red wild roses crawling on its outside walls. The blue awnings move in the breeze like humongous lungs on a respirator. Three indifferent octopuses dry under the sun.

My train of thought entangles on the rims of your open shirt, somewhere between your curly black hair tied in a ponytail and this insane phyllo tart that still grabs at my lips. It’s something about the ruins of the old wall. The Melian Dialogue, “the strong do what they want and the weak suffer what they must.” *

Lord, this is not Melos. Athens lost the war, and I did not think about the Melian Dialogue. I thought about La salle d’attente, Maurice and his box with pills, one of them supposedly filled with poison. Nicholas had to choose.**

Mind games. The other side of Greece.

Where are the three octopuses? Where did they go? The sea is still here: nude, languorous, beautiful. It resurrects the breeze. A pale dizziness falls from the sky. Between my fingers white sand and the frenzy of your kisses. Beauty is danger. Love, please unbutton your shirt more.

The phyllo tart jumps at me, giggles, and turns itself into a blue chocolate box, tied with a golden bow which reads Leonidas, Maitre Chocolatier, 1913.

Oh, don’t make me choose sweet love. Don’t make me choose.

*Thucydides, The History of the Peloponnesian War, (431–404 BC)

* *Reference to The Magus by John Fowles, (1965).

Featured image by Gabriela Marie Milton – Piraeus, Greece.

Literary Revelations – Updates

Please go to our Literary Revelations Journal to read the latest updates. We are thrilled to let you know that our publishing house has signed new publication agreements for this calendar year. We are fully booked. We look forward to showcasing more outstanding poetry. We work diligently to bring our poets to a #1 Amazon bestselling place in Amazon Hot New Releases [poetry categories] – place where they deserve to be. We do not guarantee that will happen but we will work hard with you to try to achieve this goal. More updates coming soon.

We are also open for art submission.

To know more about us please read our About section:

“We expect work that dazzles the intellect, and delights the soul; work that makes feelings blossom into symphonies of love, beauty, and sorrow. Interpret the silence. Find the place where love was born, and tears are entombed. Be the voice of prophets. Be the soft whisper of Sakura.”

A reminder that both books we published until now have become #1 Amazon bestselling books in Amazon Hot New Releases [various categories]. Congratulations again to all contributors to our anthology Hidden in Childhood and to Swan Gill on his book, Love, Stars and Paradigms.

Our #1 Amazon bestselling books

Please click on the images to go to Amazon.com

Have a beautiful season everyone.

Gabriela Marie Milton
2022 Pushcart Prize Nominee
Publisher, Editor, Award Winning & #1 Amazon Bestselling Author
Books:

Neurosis by Gabriela Marie Milton – poem – poetic prose

Neurosis

I suspect I suffer from an acute crisis of half-bloomed neurosis. My past emotions do not fully interfere with my current experiences. The converse is true too. No sophistry added. How boring.

I work my magic. I jump in the water dressed in black lingerie made from Calais laces and Lyon silks. I can feel the waves pounding my body while my mind drowns in the ambiguity of the French Nouveau Roman standing mid-way between modernism and post-modernism like a drunken sunset that cannot distinguish between yellow and orange.

The foliage of the sea turns burgundy. Your fingers contour my face.

Oh, you.

I forget that my favorite poet is Arthur Rimbaud with his “A thousand Dreams within me softly burn” and “I shed more tears than God could ever have required.” All I remember is that once I wrote: “I’ve never existed outside of your obsession with me and my interpretations of you.”

There is something about these interpretations that make you burst in cascades of laughter and art your love for me with lust.

One morning, left by my pillow, I found your reply written on a large index card: “I had to bury your existence inside my obsessions. If not, your love could not have been fully stabilized. You above anyone else know that an absolute correspondence in love does not exist. Love is a mathematical singularity.”

From my #1 Amazon bestselling book Woman: Splendor and Sorrow (Vita Brevis Press, 2021)