Poems – Hitesh Benny
A collection of poems submitted by Hitesh Benny, senior:
- The Bird
I know not
Which bird am I
Flying high
With its lot
Flocking away
From something
Quite distressing
Falling out
The weight
Pulls it
Yet also lifts
Towards fate
The grey sky
Begins and ends
In no sense
Yet that is fine
Seeing not
What is above
Nor below
All naught
The green trees
Bring temptation
Of refreshment
Yet, it must succeed
In front
Or behind
Knowing not
Just with them
I know not
Which bird am I
Flying high
With its lot
Yet one thing
I know
Am alone
Falling
Unlike that
Which flies
Flies away
Trying
2. Yes
So much
Produce
So little
In this
Quiet place
I rest
Know not
What will
Show not
Searching
In vain
I go
Scouring
In all
I count
Saying
In air
I say
Nothing
Out there
Nothing
Staring
Into it
The night
Peering
Past them
That shine
Staring
In dark
Hoping
Glimmer
Afar
Bright star
Speaking
In ways
To me
I stare
Not see
Beauty
The eyes
They hurt
I stop
To close
Embrace
The dark
In it
Only there
I see
That which
Always
Was me
To need
Nothing
But me
In this
I shall
Be me
Open
Those eyes
Wherein
The stars
Shimmer
In dark
That which
Glimmer
Do speak
They are
Shining
In me
Cannot
To hear
What was
Said and
Through them
Will be
Simply
It will
Be said
Only
If one
Looks in
To find
What has
Been said
To
See,
Yes
To
Hear,
Yes
To
Speak,
Yes
To
Fear,
Yes
To
Be,
Yes
Benny’s words:
I stand here, on the precipice of the future, thinking and reminiscing. Thinking, whether all this work I have done, means anything, to which, the answer, will be given soon. Throwing away what I have no control over, I judge my life, during the past four years, here.
These poems were written, reminiscing when I was ostracized. I can remember only three people who sheltered me, one of whom is allowing me to publish this (to whom I express my deepest thanks). However, there was one person who gave me the love, which allowed me to become who I am: Mrs. Sanders. In it, I found myself and was able to just be me. The result was who I became in these four years. I offer them, now, as part of my inexpressible gratitude towards her, since she always wanted me to do this, yet never could see it. Hoping, that my tardiness is excused by the sincerity of the work. If I might be so bold as to recite Shakespeare, “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see; So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” Thank you, Mrs. Sanders. I dedicate this to you.
