Bennu: a Literary Journal: Volume Two 2010
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Bennett College for Women
The students, faculty and staff of the Bennett College for Women proudly offer Bennu: A Literary Journal, a collection of poetry, short fiction, plays and essays. Because this work has been authored by many contributors, no one theme is dominant.
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Bennu - Bennett College for Women
Bennu
A Literary Journal
Volume Two 2010
Bennett College for Women
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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Phone: 1-800-839-8640
© 2012 by Bennett College for Women. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First published by AuthorHouse 01/25/2012
ISBN: 978-1-4685-2549-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4685-2548-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4685-2547-2 (ebk)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012901436
Printed in the United States of America
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Poetry
I Say I Am
Fresh Woman
Defining Hope
About Roses
Marching To The Dream
Untitled
Bush Tea
Whispers
Desperation
Soul Travel
Antipode*
Stars Immigrate
Standing Tall In Quicksand
Terminology Of The Sword
The Truth
How Can This Be?
Untitled
Abdul’s Song
My Kind Of Man
Tested
What He Doesn’t Know
Sleeping Beauty
¡Por Fin Te Encuentro!
A Love Robbed By A Longing Of Sexual Contentment
Absolution
Mimi Ni Salama
We Can’t Judge A Book By Its Cover
You Mean To Me
These Bones Are Poems
Train Whistle In My Mind
You
White Night
Taste
Radiance
Salaryman
People Of Color
It’s Hard Being A Young Woman
Family Thoughts
Wind Guider
Are You The Leading Lady
Or The Understudy?
. . . Más Allá…
Sitting On Aunt Ruby’s Stoop
Sufi Songs
Shadows On The Water
Wake
Why Change Now To Be An Ideal Father Figure?
Good And Bad
Dear Creature,
What Is Your Mission?
Untitled
Pops, Play Your Part
Daddy’s Little Girl
Ms. Belle
The Sad Eyes Looking At Me
Obscuration Of The Truth
Transparent
Hieronymus And Bosch
(Or Late One Night)
Timeworn Echo
We Are Not Criminals
Kayip Cennet
Lost Paradise
Three Haikus On Russian Themes
Unfinished Work To Do
Shairi Kuhusu Chuo Cha Bennett
Greed 14 Lines
My Pleasure
Brother Atlas
Passion
Untitled
A Poem For Megan Williams
Love Lost
A Poem For Us
Белая Ночь
What Happens To A Black
Woman Degraded?
Something ’Bout Aretha
Short Stories/Narratives/Plays
LORD YOUR GRACE
Excerpt From Diana Sands…,
A One-Woman Play
LYDIA ZINOVIEVA-ANNIBAL (1866-1907)
SWIMMING IN THE DEEP END
SHE WAS ASLEEP
RECONSTRUCTION
SIMPLY PERFECT!
FLASH BACK
ROSES
Untitled
MY MAMA’S FRIENDS
MY ANGEL LIKES TO BE CALLED SKITTLES
Academic Essay
PREDATORY SPECIESISM, WELFARE, AND RIGHTS
Dictionary of Twentieth Century Black Leaders
KAMAU
Poetry
I Say I Am
I say I am music
For the rhythms move me
The lyrics, they are the air that I breathe
I say I am like Dr. King
For I too have a dream
But it’s for black people to live together in peace
I say I am like the mute, unable to speak
For my thoughts are better off read than said
I say I am like the Virgin Mary
Since it will only be by the Holy Spirit that I conceive
Don’t get me wrong, I do love children
It’s just not my job to bear them
Instead I tend to nurture those already here
Who no one seems to want
So like Michael Jackson, I’ll be there
I claim to be like Cinderella
Except I am already a Queen waiting for my King
To one day come and rescue me
So what if I live my life like a fairy tale
Just call me Sleeping Beauty
Since I’m walking through life with my eyes closed anyway
Dreaming every night and all day
I say I am like a leaf on a tree
Just being until the time is up for me
Then I will rest and let my works speak for me
And my tombstone simply states
I AM ME
Queen
Fresh Woman
Fresh woman
Confused in the dark
A little black girl so lost
Views still black and white
Dream of the unknown
Lying beyond the limits
Rushing from the breasts
Green as a string bean
Pretending to be all grown
Eyes so wide and long
Eager to be free
Blinded by the glare of lights
Still full speed ahead
Cannot stop so fast
Too close now she can’t pull back
She hits the mirage wall HARD
Konica Haynes
Defining Hope
There are two Shadows of leadership
In this black stillness, destiny is to fade the light
They ease slowly and surely toward dignity
In Long stretched wheels—
Long stretched wheels that glide up capitol hills to fight—
To fight a battle that seems to have already been won
But it is by this challenger who knows the battle has just begun
Change and hope shiver the bones to breathe desire
Hands to foreheads salute as we wait to be inspired
First Ladies arrive and it’s their strength their men survive
Survive the testing times
There is a flag that waves cheerfully
Horns play in patriotic symphonies that shower
Drums roll silent for victories are in the hour
Unity vision and greatness are echoed through a pledge of power
It is these cannons that against the odds are raised
Raised from purpose, faith and duties connected to a face
Heritage of falling heroes and guardians of liberty we no longer see
Moments of a defining generation whose movement generated and started with me
There were frozen smiles of prosperity on that cold but memorable day
Inclusion not exclusion is what must pave our way
Keepers of legacy unbroken in no need of restraint
As our President speaks of the future we no longer imply the word can’t
Although it began with the persistence of a man
We are a nation, together, in efforts we stand
Hand in Hand
Our country
Our land
Torn are the Shackles
Because
YES WE CAN
Nicole Miller
About Roses
Her father said, "Give her one Rose, one perfect Rose each year
to mark this day."
Her lover said, A Rose, a perfect Rose! Roses are not bread or earth or sustenance—and one should not make promises that one can’t keep.
Yet out of the bread and sustenance came bushes and bushes of Roses.
Which only goes to show
Fathers can’t know everything
Not even when it comes to love.
Ruth Lucier
Marching To The Dream
One day I met a man holding up a sign.
Cold and lonely he was wrapped in a blanket
Looked at me and started crying,
"Tell me how can I survive tomorrow
If I can’t get through today?
I lost my job I worked my whole life
and my savings are spent away."
I told him, "My brother walk with me
and together we will march
And spread Martin Luther King’s dream through the slums of the parks.
We will get through this time together
Nobody can survive alone.
Let’s end poverty forever and make our nation a home."
One day I saw a lady crying on the street.
She looked scared and helpless
Terrified she cried to me,
"Tell me how can I survive tomorrow
If I can’t get through today?
No friends, no family, no love
Alone in the world with AIDS."
I looked at her and said, "My sister walk with me
And together we will march
And spread Martin Luther King’s dream through the slums of the parks.
We will get through this time together
Nobody can survive alone.
Let’s care for the sick forever and make our nation a home."
One day I met a young boy standing on the corner.
Selling drugs to support his family
To take care of himself and his mother.
He said, "Tell me how can I survive tomorrow
If I can’t get through today?
I don’t have an education, or degree
And the rent is two months late."
I told him," Young fellow walk with me
And together we will march
And spread Martin Luther King’s dream through the slums of the parks.
We will get though this time together
Nobody can survive alone.
Let’s end violence and drugs on every corner forever and make our nation a home."
And side by side we all marched on.
Through the slums, ghettos, and hoods.
Transforming ourselves into kings and queens
Until everyone understood;
That when our sisters are dying
So are we.
When a child is hungry
We all starve.
And when one man suffers pain and sickness
America loses the DREAM.
So next time you see a hopeless man struggling to survive
Tell him, say to him, My brother you are not alone,
and march by his side.
Tiara Miller
Untitled
Separation between fingertips and loose smiles
As the wind blows my hair over my shoulder, I look back
Back to where the smell is familiar and where the touch
comforts my soul
Back to where the acceptance is honest in the grips truth,
dearest now holds
Proud as the trees towering as the leaves take their route to coast
Coast to a balance of understanding
Separation between