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| Belinda Subraman |
Besides writing and publishing for decades
Belinda Subraman was a Registered Nurse for 14 years, mostly in hospice.
She’s also an artist working in ink and acrylics. Belinda’s art and poetry have
appeared in many publications both online and in print. She is editor and publisher
of GAS: Poetry, Art and Music, an online zine and video show as well as a group
on Facebook. She was recently named State of Texas Beat Poet Laureate
(2023-2025)
Insomnia Again
In these insane times
I tell Alexa to play
rainforest sounds and she does.
The 4k tv plays the war on Ukraine.
A tyrant threatens a nuclear plant
while some politicians
cheer him on.
We’re killing what sustains us
with singular egos
and loss of connection
creating dramatic times
living in a pandemic
on the edge of a war
that could wipe the earth
of its human infestation.
Nature will win.
New life will rise
from our ashes.
Spring 2022
The Pandemic is waning but still present.
Now the threat of WW3 blossoms before Spring.
Evergreen mesquite and cacti
are unchanged
as I learn more friends are dying.
The still bare trees are pregnant.
Weeds are already here
but green and flowering.
I leave them
and love them for now.
Each year Spring is more important
to see the brown and withered wake up
to know everything lives again.
Earth Day
I nurture self-planted Mesquite trees
outside my desert home.
I do not “own” the land
but my husband says he does.
He’ll do with it as he likes.
He says he’s boss
and he wants the new trees gone.
I’m the the one who tends the greenery
mostly cacti, creosote and sage bushes
front yard and back. I water and trim
and painfully “weed”.
(I welcome all green
because so little grows here
but I do this for him.)
He declares the Mesquites will disappear.
They’re not following the rules.
I plead, “Please don’t. I nurture them.”
Now he’s bought a chainsaw.
I know his plan.
Soon I will be gone all day, selling art.
In a last ditch effort and in vain,
I’ll leave a note that says
