Emily Benson



twitter: @ebenson_emily


Emily Benson writes poems of humanity, longing, and nature. A former professional stage manager who now works in digital marketing, she has been writing poetry steadily through it all. She lives in Western New York with her husband, two sons, and two cats.

Coming Soon!

Crisis, Unlimited Literature

Lilac Magazine, Issue 1

December 2021

cover image: Brittany M. Reid


He wonders at this ceaseless longing

The thrill of possibilities in those silent hotel rooms

New eyes behind every door

He can almost feel the road beneath his feet

The staccato white lines of the highway flashing by

As he bends to brush her hair gently from her face

“Sleep,” he whispers softly

Unwritten songs humming in his head as he tells her

He’ll be there when she wakes

But his heart tenses at the lie

He will be miles gone when she opens her eyes to the dawn

The wanderlust tied to his every nerve compels him

Chances and regrets rise before him like the moon

And he is gone again in the night

Thoughts on a Western Night

Standing before an open window

In this cool-flagged back room

The night breeze fragrant

With wet juniper and piñon

I am suddenly seized by the wild impulse

To run bare skinned through the desert

My lamp shines

Past the bright path of stones

Glistening in the dark

And I lean out

Feeling the warm rain on my shoulders

This night is made for escape

Running free in the damp sand valley below

The Daily Drunk Presents Marvelous Verses

November 2021

cover image: Derek Mainhart

Loki to Mjolnir

It is said

Only the worthy can lift you,

Wield you.

It’s understood that means

A certain lack of moral ambiguity.

Impulses of pettiness,


Of ambition (which has its costs)

Tamped down

Or, unbelievably,


Is not the striving to live with –

In spite of –

These feelings

A better goal?

To balance the desire to sin

Against the repercussions –

Is that not at least

As noble?

If not more so!

I stare into your solid, gleaming face

And I see my shortcomings,

My failures,


I see the lie at the heart of my question,

And I am answered.

Rundelania, No. 10

November 2021

image: Red Sunset on the Dnieper.Arkhip Kuindzhi, Russia, 1908;oil on canvas. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Issue 20

November 2021

cover image: Thomas Oscar Miles

Happy Birthday

You are a tree.

No, hear me out:

Created of earth and water

Alchemy of light and green

Your mother’s tenacity,

Artist’s eyes and hands

Bark, to be sure, from your father’s side

You reach toward the sun

You unfurl

Every year you grow a ring

I can hear them ringing

You are rooted

Alongside the eucalyptus

And the oaks you once leapt over

Golden grasses gather by your feet

And your branches call to fallen birds

To fawns born into the ferns from death

Life circling, renewing

With sharp milk teeth

And the softness of Grace

Oceans swell, storm-tossed,

And you offer yourself as timber

To build a coracle

Supple and strong

You shelter

You bend

You sway with the winds that shake us

And through it all

There runs a strain

Of infinitesimal sweetness

Ineffable beauty

The depths of stone and soil

The height of a light too bright to look at

Air too cold and clean to hold

Except in heartwood

Resonance from within your bole

Setting us all humming

Your warm and wild refrain

Paddler Press, Vol. 2 Roots & Wings

October 2021

image: author's own

The Dillydoun Review - Issue 9

October 2021

image: stock

Pastel Pastoral Issue 1.5 - Gothic

October 2021

image: stock

Hecate Journal - Volume IV

August 2021

image: stock

Wonderous World: Poems that Spark Magic, Other Worldly Women Press

July 2021

image: Evelyn May


In the darkness,

The expectant nothing,

The absence,

A seed germinates.

Alchemic spark imbuing energy

From godhead,

From stardust

Drawn in at the very beginning,

The first breath,

By collective hope,

Primordial imperative,

Chance or fate or force

Charging atoms, cells

Down in the earth,

Under the waves

Deep inside the warm place

Where fears and dreams lie in loops,

In links

Forged by a hundred thousand befores

Generations of fanfare and failures and fanaticism

Jumbled and rebuilt like a child’s block tower.

The flame within

A vigil for an end written from the start

Gold like autumn leaves

Green as new buds

Blood red

Black despair

Pale blue hope

And always such need

Pulsing and pushing, driving

A charge towards something,

Screaming from darkness to darkness

Rootstock bound to wind and rain

And the tidal pull of an inescapable satellite.

Reality that a cruel but brilliant imagination

Can whisper into illusion

Time, that insidious construct,

And all the unknowns and wish I didn’t knows,

The appalling disparity in shared experiences

Piling up,

Breeding doubt

Even in the curve beneath one’s feet


By that same mechanism

Fear is beaten back

With beauty



Art, another magic

Creations of the created giving freedom


Fulfilling a destiny of soul,

That alternate realm,

Meanings lost and found and lost again


Circles inside circles

Embracing the mysteries

And filling every single moment with wild love

The fire at the heart of truth

Blue River Review

July 2021

image: author's own

Moist Poetry Journal

June 2021

image: text art

Sad Girls Club Literary Blog

February 2021

image: stock

High Shelf Press

January 2021

image: Lillie Lemon by Laurie Philip Michaels

Five Minutes

November 2020

image: stock

Hey, I'm Alive Magazine

June 2020

image: author's own

Hey, I'm Alive Magazine

June 2020

image: Rochester, NY Municipal Archives


May 2020

image: Transitory Space, Don Valley 2 # 8, Color Photography, 2020 by Leah Oates