seduction – Short Prose

#poem #poetry

Via short prose from March 4, 2020 
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the rhythm of castanets awakens the moon
on opal rings your kisses spin
a cricket’s hitting a crescendo
waves tattoo dark shadows on your skin
sonority, you who vibrates the souls
of those who haunt at night the Port of Cartagena

I toss in smells of apricots and plumes
the Hand of Fatima takes off my veils
your forehead sinks into the sweat of lovers
who sever their veins
oh, dream of the unknowns,
you, latency,
the sigh of blood which flows
in spring both mud and flowers grow

didn’t you know
that when you said I love you
you stepped on roads of fables and folk tales?
you glued your heart onto a purple sunset
smells of lilac and of roses, impregnated strolls,
seduction,
it wasn’t me
it was you who stole his soul

Published by Spillwords on June, 4 2019; included in my upcoming poetry book Passion: Love Poems and Other Writings.
Passion: Love Poems and Other Writings also includes several poems translated in Italian by Flavio Almerighi. I am most grateful to Flavio for his magnificent translations. For more poetry in Italian please visit Flavio’s site here

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M) pingback dear.

Another great piece…
I hope you didn’t mind my nearly facetious teasing a bit on the previous reblog.. Just wanted to get folks attention about the click being more important than a like.

image:  Anna Ismagilova; Shutterstock; [link]

Love games #flash fiction #prose poem #short prose — Short Prose

I strolled along that large corridor whose walls were decorated with portraits: trophies of your love games.  You fed on those loves, didn’t you? You overextended. Overextension kills empires. I bet you didn’t think that it could kill real love too.

Every night the fleshless arms of your love games crawl on you like fire ants.

I know misfortune when I see it.

I know it because I am not a saint.

Hope? If there is any left it must be on another corridor.

Follow me.

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

reblogged from:

Love games #flash fiction #prose poem #short prose — Short Prose

the last love # love poem #poetry — Short Prose

Via short-prose-fiction

I eat macaroons in the same coffee shop
Roberto’s guitar sells cheap dreams by the sea
young girls are ready for harvest like flowers of lust
I laugh…
I scratch poetry on a glass
I say the first love is French
you ask how’s the last
it smells raspberries, vanilla, and grass
you touch my left wrist
I play a few cards
red flowers bloom on your cheeks
your teeth peel the skin of my gloves
you walk into darkness
I seal you on in wax
how’s the last love?
pray..
you shouldn’t have asked

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

I eat macaroons in the same coffee shop
Roberto’s guitar sells cheap dreams by the sea
[…]

the last love # love poem #poetry — Short Prose

Love in Venice #short prose #flashfiction — Short Prose

“Would you like to remain in Venice forever?”

I bite my lips.

“Oh, no, but I would love to live here for an entire winter.”

“And what would you do?”

“Every night I will walk in Piazza San Marco, at that moment when the silence becomes so permeable that my steps can be heard from the moon. In the heated, mysterious, thrilling nights of the carnival I will change mask after mask, dress after dress, smile after smile, pain after pain, lover after lover. Every morning I will mix essences of perfumes, seeking for the very one that can revive the mystique of my body, intoxicate my soul, empower my mind. Every twilight I will dive in the coolness of the Adriatic Sea; my body shivering, my soul revived; my memory of him forever gone. In the night I will go to consult astrologer after astrologer in the less known quarters of the city.”

I stop.

The sound of a church bell tears apart the moist air.

He looks at me: blue eyes, dark hair; powerful voice.

“Tonight there is party at the Doge’s Palace. Would you like to come with me?”

“I am not going to parties anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I died long time ago, by mistake. Now I am just a Venetian mask.”

For a moment he looks flabbergasted.
….

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers 
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

image: Mohammadreza Zeidabadi; Shutterstock; [link]

Another beautiful poem from Short Prose.

Love in Venice #short prose #flash fiction — Short Prose

The day that never comes

the sea throws fishing nets into the sky

the blood of stars drops on a lonely shore

acoustic

ships fantasize under the reddish voice of night

fingers of the truth pulsate inside the wombs of underwater weeds

I comb my hair with dreams of roses and of salt

you smoke cigars within the loneliness of banyan parks

and in our island where all Mondays dress in black

our Tuesdays lock the saints in cages built from tentacles of mud

synapses snap

confused, the ships engage in fratricide,

mercenaries, the new gods, turn statues made of marble into dust

on Sundays, intoxicated by the smell of oleanders, we make love

hallucinations separate the blood of stars from sand

and by the sea which throws its fishing nets into the sky

we wait for the true day

the day that never comes

my new poem “the day that never comes” in “Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen” #poetry — Short Prose

© 2019 Gabriela M. via hereticsloversmadmen.com

Destinies #short prose #flash fiction #amwriting — Short Prose

Our destinies caught inside the 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…

Destinies #short prose #flash fiction #amwriting — Short Prose

Our destinies caught inside the 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 earthly boundaries.

Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers 

@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M)

Tree of Love #prose poem #short prose #poetry — Short Prose

I fed my tree of love with water from my blood, dried lizards, and pieces of broken hearts.
My tree will bloom during the Banquet of the Moon.
The broken hearts?
You see I had no choice.
I am the defender of love.
I do not trade in half measures.
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M.)
image: Bruce Rolff; […]

Tree of Love #prose poem #short prose #poetry — Short Prose

Thank you Gabriela for letting me share your talented work and letting me get some likes so I can feel like I have a good blog. 😉

In the shadows of those streets #short prose #flash fiction — Short Prose

I lurked in the shadows of those streets the entire night: solitaries, madmen, prostitutes, somnambulists. After a while I couldn’t distinguish among them. My steps were meaningless. My senses were tranquilized by that vision of him scribbling his last letter to me under a pale winter moon. The child was probably happy, playing at his […]

In the shadows of those streets #short prose #flash fiction — Short Prose