The Cacophony of Silence
Sunshine pulses in magnetic
air
Stars hum as they hang in the
mist
Thoughts swirl like Van Gogh’s
wheat
Explosions bomb the mind field
Years fold into wallets,
misplaced books
Memories roam the iCloud
Our lives are in flash drives
Sparks in the atmosphere
We deny magic as we perform
it.
time shifts
feeling auras dim
pivot, pull away
cool air rushes in
turning cold
tearing the membrane
in a couples’ cocoon
internal hum heightens
following orders
from an unknown source
or are we hearing gears
in organic machines
making body waves
finishing a lesson
in relationship
emptying and dawning
healing psychic wounds
until we blend with
spiced forest soil
hot with tiny life
Sunrise, Sunset
Counting life by decades
on fingers
using a second hand
remembering youth
and the other worldliness of
age.
The past has not passed
as it’s one long day
with gradations
of all we’ve ever been
caught between the womb and
stars
hungering for the hug
of recognition
and dissolving into space.
The End
morning rainbows last longer
in slanting Fall light
the twilight is hope
in all directions
and sensual dimensions
your companion in bed
is machinery and love
awash in white noise
tidal breath bi-pap and
oxygen concentrator
the heart swells as birds
suddenly rise together
flutter specifically beyond
the sky
you go joyfully
fading into the sun
burning into light
whether or not
you ever yawned an Om
mumbled a Baptist hymn
now you realize
everything
The Accidental Elephant
Let’s say you’re traveling in
India
and an elephant in a Hindu
temple
salutes you with his trunk.
You notice the designs and
paintings
on his forehead and body
and move in closer for a look.
The elephant wraps his trunk
around you.
He likes you.
Hindus crowd around to see the
white boy
blessed by Ganesh, a favourite
god of good luck.
Let’s say they begin to see
you
as a reincarnation of Ganesh,
put garlands around your neck,
and bring you food, especially
butter and limes.
Let’s say you enjoy the
attention,
the smiling admiring faces.
Then through an interpreter
you hear their prayers and
pleas.
You learn they want their
dying to be made healthy,
their destitute to be made
wealthy,
their crippled to walk, their
mute to talk.
Let’s say you’re inclined to
give
the Sermon on the Mount and
bless them with platitudes.
You even practice healings but
none of them work.
So you learn magic and wow
them with tricks,
enough so they bring you even
more flowers, butter and limes
and their hard earned precious
few rupees.
You accept them and bless them
again.
They seem to be happy.
But you are not.
You live with an elephant.
You are god-like.
You are a liar.
Belinda Subraman has been writing and publishing for years. She had a ten year run editing and publishing Gypsy Literary Magazine 1984-1994. She edited books by Vergin' Press, among them: Henry Miller and My Big Sur Days by Judson Crews. She also published Sanctuary Tape Series (1983-89) which was a mastered compilation of audio poetry and original music from around the world.
Belinda has been published in
100s of magazines, printed and online, academic and small presses. She has a
Master of Arts from California State University. Her archives are housed at
University of New Mexico, Albuquerque. Her latest book is Left Hand Dharma from
(Unlikely Books).
In 2020 Belinda began an
online show and journal called GAS: Poetry, Art & Music which features
interviews, readings, performances and art shows available free at http://youtube.com/BelindaSubraman
and https://gaspoertyartandmusic.blogspot.com
Thank you!
ReplyDeleteExquisite. Enjoyed these poems tremendously.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteThese are perfect little poems, lacking nothing and carrying the weight of their truth and beauty like champions.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
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