Weakness of various kinds may lurk in a flabby lip* The ill-bred then ill-led by courtier cowards History’s dustbin overflows with rotten words let slip A moral vacuum created in Babel’s towers
When the logos kings vanish, only the dirt remains So sift the glittering trash of golden whispers In search of the truth which in turn explains The fragment promises of unwritten scriptures
*I forget who said this quote but I read it in The Decline and Fall of the British Empire by Piers Brendon.
Poetry is perfect for cliche It’s a better way To say what I want to say!
Sometimes a synonym will do It’s true! At least it’s been thought through
Rewriting what’s previously written I’m smitten With the hand already bitten!
No poems of autumn or spring So please bring Me less cliched words to sing!
Written for a task at AllPoetry.com in connection with cliche. Cliches are often useful, so long as they are not overused, and often express exactly what is required. For me though, I really don’t like cliched poetic topics like seasons or flowers, unless done really well and bringing a new dimension to the subject. I have a pet peeve with some words too but I can’t remember them now because as soon as I see them I click away from reading and forget about them immediately. Next time I see one, I want to try and understand why it is that I dislike it so much! I looked up synonyms of cliche to find bromide! Haha! Never used that word in my life.
He’s a puzzle, perhaps a piece missing No joker himself, he’s just the joke And with his mouth engaged in dissing He’s the bear that you must not poke
She’s a puzzle, perhaps in too many pieces Scattered across the floor in such distress And as the pressure ever increases It was all a game, she must confess
A whisper and a wonder Will all the aunties be there? Where will everyone sit? Can I watch the fire faeries flit As I fall asleep in the quiet comfy chair?
Adult breath whiffs of magic Will I ever learn these ways? Maybe I’ll sing a song And the uncles will sing along With my series of 20 short plays
Is that bird following me? Better to be clear of the busy sky Reindeer running through Clickety-clack and choo-choo-choo Where did he go and why?
The sparkle of new toys The surprise of morning snow Why all the rush For the melt to the slush? Enquiring minds want to know
1994ever 