As promised, we scoured the Clark community past and present to put together a selection of passionate, sappy and angst-ridden poetry. Thanks to all the brave participants willing to bare their souls to our lucky readers.
Suggested uses for these poems:
- Take turns reading them aloud with your awkward first date
- Poetry is a zero-calorie alternative to suppressing the loneliness with chocolate and Ben & Jerry’s
- Shout them to lure your true love down from their balcony—Shakespearean sonnets are so passé
Hark! Valentine’s Day:
Not my most jolly day—
My least favorite holiday
Actually, it’s been that way
For a while, okay?
Want to hear what I have to say?
About the day—
Where I feel I’ve been led astray
By society, hate this papier-mâché
My heart’s in radioactive decay;
A ship tripped and slipped on the bay
Out to sea, and faraway…
I hate all things risqué,
Which is V-Day!
How about I meet you halfway,
Instead of pretend for today?
Hindsight is foolproof too bad,
I was a fool.
You certainly outfoxed me,
Quite unfair and cruel.
Perhaps I was not helpless,
Maybe just overwhelmed,
But all the while, just a child,
My adoration swelled.
Yet suddenly, a breaking point
I could no longer bear,
Dishonesty; that lack of love,
Apparent in your stare.
Though once I was your marionette;
A dupe of fraudulence
The seesaw in my mind has ceased—
Now freedom shall augment.
The only thing I may regret?
Staying for so long, yet now,
I am autonomous,
And feel that I belong.
Target Love Poem
I work at Target on the weekends;
I saw you for the third time last Saturday,
in the detergent aisle.
You frighten me:
I am a bottle of off-brand Tide,
you are a bag of All Mighty Pods.
You have eyes
like a winter comprised of
three day old snow– starting to melt,
full of slushy silty soil,
the color of my favorite khaki pants.
You make my red vest go tight against my chest
while I check you out at the check out;
Burts Bee Lipgloss!
A shower curtain!
The rustle of plastic bags.
Oh, our love, immortalized!
In case you were wondering
you’re pretty cute when you
look at books on a Thursday
afternoon and i should be paying attention
to the words falling from my TA’s mouth
but the light of your eyes is stuck in my cheeks
and I can feel them
warming, rising toward my blues as I
try to convince them to stay put.
How lucky I am to hold
that silly little light
inside of me.
Let’s dive deep into the Pacific Ocean
To see the colorful tropical fish swim around
Let’s dive deep into this magical Love
To feel two hearts beating so fast,
Yet with the same speed
Oh, my love
There’s nothing to fear, nothing to worry
Coz you are air, I am oxygen
Coz I am yours, you are mine
Oh, my darling
Let’s dive deeper and deeper
Till I am in you, and you in me
Till we are too integrated to be separated
Oh, this breath-taking golden beach
Oh, this enchanting sapphire-like sea
Our future is as mysterious as this unfathomable ocean
But I have nothing to be afraid of
—because you are with me
Leaving for America
Here is a sonnet I wrote about a guy I just LOVED when I was a senior at Clark, but of course he was really only interested in sleeping with me and would not commit to being my boyfriend. So, I did what a college student would do — I wrote a sappy poem.
On the road I give to long naps and drift
in sleep-time on asphalts of Tennessee.
You are not driving when yellow sun lifts
eyelids open for the Grand Ole Opry.
I spend an hour walking to a campsite
in Arkansas, where I prick my finger
on a thorn-bush. Painful like our night
words in paper cuts, cradling our shivers.
When I reach Texas a cowboy hat at
the rodeo would look good on you and
now I want to call you, tell you that.
Body hot, sweaty, and I’m sick of land
when we reach Arizona. I can’t find
where you race rapids down rushing river,
carving canyons in the mud plates of my spine,
Desert sky can try, but can’t deliver.
This open road of freedom, letting go.
One day I chose to leave, then left. And so.
When you walked inside
Wal-Mart, an Uncle Sam
Shook your hand and
Gloated about Hulu Plus.
An Uncle Sam
Shook your hand and
Told you to buy a
Aisle 3, by the
You paid no heed
To your Uncle Sam.
But you ran. You
Scrammed for those
Tyson Chicken Nuggets.
Somehow I fell for
You, the mustached man
With that fake tan who
Escaped corporate America
Before rush hour.
You ran home to me,
And we shared the
So glad you bought the
We sat on your sofa and
We kissed, had
All that bliss,
I do not sit on sofas.
I do not watch football.
I do not bake Tyson
Chicken to 425 degrees.