Poems

Bennett Reda is a junior at Chaminade High School who lives in Manhasset.  His poem "3 O’clock" attempts at capturing the fleeting feeling felt as adolescent years come to a close.

 

In twilight's soft embrace, I stand,

My feet firmly planted in the sand.

The light so quickly fades away,

Youthful wonders slowly decay.

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Final moments spare a glance,

A reflection where memory's dance

Endless times of fun and joy

Taught me love which I employ.

 

With expectancy, I let out a sigh,

Childhood's whispers slowly die.

Now I stand, facing the moon,

Anxiety too great seems to loom.

 

In the moon's silver glow,

A seed of hope begins to grow.

Adolescent years may fade,

But I am forever thankful for the man they made.

Bennett Reda, a senior at Chaminade High School from Manhasset, explores the tension between materialism and meaning in “William Durden.” The poem juxtaposes Tyler Durden’s anti-consumerist philosophy from Fight Club with the disciplined language and structure of Shakespearean verse—merging modern critique with classical form.

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Thou art not the labour that thy hands have done,
Nor art thou all the gold thy coffers store;
The title which the world has bid thee run,
The sum of things for which men thirst for more.

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Thou art not the fine carriage thou dost guide,
Nor what thy purse of heavy coin contains;
Not e'en the common threads that seek to hide,
For in these forms no lasting truth remains.

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Nay, thou art but the world’s strange, singing waste,

A frantic dance of sweet and brief decay,
A fleeting moment, joyously misplaced,
The stuff of life that brightly burns away.

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So let these worldly trifles fall from thee,
And in that glorious chaos, be thou free.

Inspired by the transience of life, these haiku reflect on the quiet beauty of what passes: moments once alive, now dissolved into memory. Like whispers after thunder, they remind us that loss and presence are woven from the same thread.

I.
Once pulse, now whisper,
the wind remembers my name;
but I do not rise.

II.
A leaf drifts to rest
no wind can lift it again,
yet the tree still sways.

III.
Stars burn and fall still,
their light wandering alone:
we see what has died.

IV.
River once in flood,
now a bed of silent stones,
absence hums like prayer.

V.
Last breath, soft as rain,
folds into the earth’s dark sleep,
time forgets the sound.