Belinda Subraman

Thanksgiving

I’m thankful for
this brown carpet
with human fuzz
the sound of feet above me

the winds howling outside
me warm inside
alone but sheltered

the womb warmth
of my own soul energy
and of those I’ve gladly known
our cascading colors of light
happily perplexing
in this fluctuating perpetuation
of life

2.

the intensity of youth
the sharp, edgy freedom
spending time

coins with their edges rubbed off
that’s what it’s like
to be older

3.

I was three quarters
and felt everything
more than it should be
my hands colder than snow
the wind the howl of the artic
I shivered with Christmas hymns
all the way back to Santa
in the magical frightening world of child
I tingled with glad, knowing numbness
then I was transported
connected to every atom in the cosmos
I was cold and warm
I was there and I wasn’t
I knew and I was innocent
I loved and I was vacant
I was human, vegetation
and the swirling forces
blackness and pure light
then I realized
everything is infused with soul
I am a seed and I have grown
I am a part
I am whole

Thanksgiving Poem by Belinda Subraman
If you like Thanksgiving poem you may want to read Belinda’s Cinco de Mayo poem .

Thank you for your visit.

Age makes destruction of minds–
stubborn machines.
Word salad is served with weather,
hooks to passing signals in the stratosphere.

L., in her 90s, leopard skin top,
no bottoms, one over the knee valentine’s sock,
speaks sunshine and storm in the same breath.
She is looking for Ohio in Texas
not knowing what state she’s in
or room.

T., is stalked by the devil,
paces the hall in fear,
wants to explain but can’t.
A fist forms as his eyes cry out,
“Get me out of here!”

S., shouts obscenities,
demands his dead wife help him,
rises and falls from his wheelchair,
is caught before he is floored by reality
and physical pain.

Nurses hold hands with despair,
serve gentleness with sedation,
talk to the lights within.
Storms blow over, devils disappear.
Mother is waiting in the next room
to tuck them in.
A smile emerges through the clouds.
Compassion is the language
always understood.

Nurse Appreciation Poem copyright 2012 Belinda Subraman

In ancient times also

there were mind explorers,

body worshipers,

disappointments to their mothers.

 

When time was a blessing

on a too tight rope

they were initiated into

the hearts of baboons.

 

Offerings above, please.

Bodies below.

 

As the dead sun sleeps

in the netherworld each night

spirits return to their mummies.

Ancestors pray.

May their bones be knit together,

their members be made firm.

 

Belinda Subraman

Beyond Meaning

There’s a seeming realness of grounded thought
and an awkward fit of another human
in our dream.
We can share space and agree
to be tolerate of illusion.
We can agree to share some meaning in our lives.

Meaning is the weight in our heads.
It could be excessive rumination,
the looped reels of life
or the invisible force behind our acting out,
the dream that makes us crazy or calm
or sure of what could never be but is.
Meaning is the assignment of the soul.

We long for the fire of illusion
that does not contradict
our earth bound reality
but rides along on a higher plane,
something that sparks the aura,
tingles the essence and
sends vibrations through the cosmos.

We long for the embodiment of love,
torn between blissful numbness
and the excitement of too much stimulation
and weighted expectations
all for reasons we do not realize
are substitutes for what we can not know.

 

Beyond Meaning poem by Belinda Subraman

You may also like Belinda Subraman’s Nurse Appreciation Poem