Bruno Lieto, Editor-in-Chief of Clark Writes, is a senior English major with an education minor. He’s been writing poetry since seventh grade and has always found comfort in putting words on the page. When he’s not writing poetry, Bruno can usually be found building sets for Clark Musical Theater or teaching. His poem “Dreams” evokes beautifully haunting imagery in its descriptions of the supernatural.
They walk through a house of bones
Each step a shifting of weight on
Dilapidated floorboards that groan under
The unwanted pressure.
Step by step they haunt a hollow home,
Each movement felt to their core
As they let their hands linger upon worn
Wallpaper that peels from the wood
Underneath in a futile attempt to flee.
This poem was written by Heather Babin, a Clark freshman. Through the use of wordplay and internal rhyme, she explores the relationship between anger and sadness, and the struggle to find peace. Read it below.
can i be mad
can i be mad.
can i be venge
ful. full of sad
bursting out and
in fistfuls that
fitful minds keep
at peace splat
on the ground.
can i find peace
when war is not
real for release. Continue reading
This short story was written by Heather Babin, a freshman here at Clark. In this piece, she explores complex themes of familial love, what it means to be human, and the inevitability of time – all through the relationship between Fate and his adopted daughter.
Conner and Fate
There are millions of people running, but he stands still. A stumble toe over twig—a splash of mud-water from a passing car—a voice in their head, saying “It is time to come home.” He has time for them all. He is there when they look up from their fall, when they stare down into the puddle that has just drenched them, when they lean over the edge of a building and contemplate. He twists their thoughts so transfixingly they barely notice when there is nothing below them. He is a master, plucking strings and twitching the handle-cross just so to make them all dance. They don’t dance together, but he controls them all. They don’t run together, but they run the same.
He is playful, almost. There is a sweet urgency moving his being toward every incident that inevitably ends in his arrival. There is a craftiness in how he takes his time with them. Some of them he lets evade him for years. They never skip his mind, and he is always on theirs. There are those who run faster, of course. Have power and control of their own objects, flimsy though they may be. The equalizer sees to that. He toys with them, of course, but some have no conscious for him to tug, or guilt for him to trip. It never grew in. There is an empty space in their minds that he cannot fill, try though he does. He shakes them off. They are not his concern. They have lied themselves into being, and they will lie their way out, and they will lie in their polished coffins, and he will collect their bones to sew to his robe. Continue reading
This poem was performed by junior Harris Eidelman at our most recent Creative Writing Forum. Through it, he explores the connection between his own personal history and the clothing he wears. With both heartfelt nostalgia and an eye toward the future, this poem beautifully illustrates the passage of time through t-shirts, jeans, and the memories they carry. Read “Terracotta Warrior” below.
I have a duffel bag full of clothes
Different shirts have different meanings
Their origins are spread far and wide
From Israel to the US of A
My shirt today is from a recent purchase
And in it I feel secure and strong
I used to not like long sleeves
Now they paint me like a Terracotta Warrior Continue reading