Poetry competition CLOSED 31st August 2020 2:56pm
WINNER
Magdalena (Spartalena)
Magdalena (Spartalena)
Page:
O Cliché, Cliché, wherefore art thou Cliché
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem using one cliché from the list below in each stanza… then edit your poem rewriting each cliché using a fresh phrase.
Background
We all know what clichés are… because we use them whenever we open our mouths to communicate using common phrases that everyday people can understand.
But… when it comes to poetry, clichés are shortcuts and lazy phrases that make our poems feel cheap and fucking ordinary.
You lot aren’t everyday people, apparently you’re all infected with some kind of strange poetic virus that makes you want to self isolate to internalise your feelings, so that you can write poems about sex, drugs and a young lover who dumped you back in high school... some 15 years ago. And because you’ve tested positive to poetry, you’re not allowed to use clichés, no fucking way! You're a poet with a purpose in life to write extraordinary poems… and to be perfectly blunt with you, clichés are the only reason why you're not driving a BMW right now, because you’ve only got 100 followers on your Instagram poetry account and your self-published poetry book isn’t selling like face masks on Amazon. Fuck those fucking clichés!!!
[insert clichés poetry challenge here]
Rules
1. Write your poem using one cliché from the list below in each stanza. Then edit your poem rewriting (exorcising) each cliché using a fresh phrase. Publish the poems in your catalogue and submit both entries here in this thread.
2. The only clichés allowed in your poems are the ones from the list below.
3. One entry (two poems) per poet.
4. Each poem must have a maximum word count of 350 words.
5. New poems only.
6. Form - whatever.
7. No collaborations.
Tips and Tricks
- I'll be selecting the winning entry based on originality, creativity and editing skills.
- I suggest you use a cliche finder to check that both your poems (before and after) don’t contain any uninvited clichés crashing your stanzas… I’ll be checking. http://www.clichefinder.net/
Cliché List
afraid of his own shadow
armed to the teeth
avoid like the plague
bad to the bone
bat out of hell
blood is thicker than water
clear as mud
crystal clear
curiosity killed the cat
dog eat dog
draw the line
dressed to kill
eat your heart out
every fibre of my being
eye for an eye
follow your heart
force of nature
free as a bird
go against the grain
go with the flow
growing like a weed
high and dry
high as a kite
hot under the collar
icing on the cake
in a jam
it's a small world
joined at the hip
judge a book by its cover
justice is blind
kick the bucket
kid in a candy store
kiss of death
labor of love
lighter than a feather
loose cannon
make your blood boil
moment of truth
money to burn
never look back
nose to the grindstone
not a hope in hell
on thin ice
open a can of worms
out of the frying pan into the fire
perfect storm
playing with fire
pure as the driven snow
quick as lightning
red as a beetroot
roll over in the grave
running in circles
sharp as a tack
slippery as an eel
stiff upper lip
thick as a brick
tip of the iceberg
tough as nails
ugly as sin
vanquish the enemy
water under the bridge
white as a sheet
wolf at the door
young and foolish
We all know what clichés are… because we use them whenever we open our mouths to communicate using common phrases that everyday people can understand.
But… when it comes to poetry, clichés are shortcuts and lazy phrases that make our poems feel cheap and fucking ordinary.
You lot aren’t everyday people, apparently you’re all infected with some kind of strange poetic virus that makes you want to self isolate to internalise your feelings, so that you can write poems about sex, drugs and a young lover who dumped you back in high school... some 15 years ago. And because you’ve tested positive to poetry, you’re not allowed to use clichés, no fucking way! You're a poet with a purpose in life to write extraordinary poems… and to be perfectly blunt with you, clichés are the only reason why you're not driving a BMW right now, because you’ve only got 100 followers on your Instagram poetry account and your self-published poetry book isn’t selling like face masks on Amazon. Fuck those fucking clichés!!!
[insert clichés poetry challenge here]
Rules
1. Write your poem using one cliché from the list below in each stanza. Then edit your poem rewriting (exorcising) each cliché using a fresh phrase. Publish the poems in your catalogue and submit both entries here in this thread.
2. The only clichés allowed in your poems are the ones from the list below.
3. One entry (two poems) per poet.
4. Each poem must have a maximum word count of 350 words.
5. New poems only.
6. Form - whatever.
7. No collaborations.
Tips and Tricks
- I'll be selecting the winning entry based on originality, creativity and editing skills.
- I suggest you use a cliche finder to check that both your poems (before and after) don’t contain any uninvited clichés crashing your stanzas… I’ll be checking. http://www.clichefinder.net/
Cliché List
afraid of his own shadow
armed to the teeth
avoid like the plague
bad to the bone
bat out of hell
blood is thicker than water
clear as mud
crystal clear
curiosity killed the cat
dog eat dog
draw the line
dressed to kill
eat your heart out
every fibre of my being
eye for an eye
follow your heart
force of nature
free as a bird
go against the grain
go with the flow
growing like a weed
high and dry
high as a kite
hot under the collar
icing on the cake
in a jam
it's a small world
joined at the hip
judge a book by its cover
justice is blind
kick the bucket
kid in a candy store
kiss of death
labor of love
lighter than a feather
loose cannon
make your blood boil
moment of truth
money to burn
never look back
nose to the grindstone
not a hope in hell
on thin ice
open a can of worms
out of the frying pan into the fire
perfect storm
playing with fire
pure as the driven snow
quick as lightning
red as a beetroot
roll over in the grave
running in circles
sharp as a tack
slippery as an eel
stiff upper lip
thick as a brick
tip of the iceberg
tough as nails
ugly as sin
vanquish the enemy
water under the bridge
white as a sheet
wolf at the door
young and foolish
She was a (force of nature) and had only the vaguest ... until
She was the reckoning
In God’s eye
And she came before his moment
Not unlike
The clamshell breathing
That exhaled enough
Of gritty debris
And salty waste
To stir warm waters to rise
A momentum growing
From one minuscule
Molluskular
Involuntary reaction
To his “pain in her mask”
Pure no count dumb fuckery
A momentum that would rise
And fall
To onslaught
Tidal wave effects
And land
(An understatement at the very least)
Onto his his psyche
(She sees dumb fuck beach)
And leave in tatters
Browned and dimmed
Once fresh pressed
Buttoned downed to tanned flattened
navel
Supremely white cotton shirt
And smirking logo stitched on it
And she would grin
Clamshell wide
At how his smile once matched the smirk
Of the perfectly put and odd little logo
That sat
(almost mocking her)
Upon his white shirt
But now due to
The much needed exhale
(Involuntary Molluskular removal of little more that bits of would be shit)
Had left him only the expression
Of purely God Smacked
In God’s eye
And she came before his moment
Not unlike
The clamshell breathing
That exhaled enough
Of gritty debris
And salty waste
To stir warm waters to rise
A momentum growing
From one minuscule
Molluskular
Involuntary reaction
To his “pain in her mask”
Pure no count dumb fuckery
A momentum that would rise
And fall
To onslaught
Tidal wave effects
And land
(An understatement at the very least)
Onto his his psyche
(She sees dumb fuck beach)
And leave in tatters
Browned and dimmed
Once fresh pressed
Buttoned downed to tanned flattened
navel
Supremely white cotton shirt
And smirking logo stitched on it
And she would grin
Clamshell wide
At how his smile once matched the smirk
Of the perfectly put and odd little logo
That sat
(almost mocking her)
Upon his white shirt
But now due to
The much needed exhale
(Involuntary Molluskular removal of little more that bits of would be shit)
Had left him only the expression
Of purely God Smacked
Written by Calamityofgin
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Related submission no longer exists.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/393095-cliches/i née
I need to delete the poem posted in error and add new submissions. How do I delete? I’m ready to add what I assume is what’s required... A.
I need to delete the poem posted in error and add new submissions. How do I delete? I’m ready to add what I assume is what’s required... A.
And when poets say my comps are doozies, I know you mofos are going start breaking the rules. Jen and Anvil I'm very pleased I could inspire you both to weave away with some poetic clichés, but I'm drawing a line in this thread before shit gets out of hand.
From this post on entries must be posted in tandem e.g. "Before" (cliché) version and "After" (no cliché) version.
From this post on entries must be posted in tandem e.g. "Before" (cliché) version and "After" (no cliché) version.
Slippery as a eel
Duplicity a dirty underhanded trick
all the boxes had a tick
just with one exception
for he seemed the perfect catch
the diamond ring that spells commitment
it was just paste: he was so slick
promises of everlasting
painted pictures of such bliss
illusions of true understanding
the one that always would persist
took her flower in the heat of passion
the honey from his lips it dripped
sought for everlasting happiness in desperation
but from her hands, an eel as slippery
grasped emptiness that leaves you miffed
all the boxes had a tick
just with one exception
for he seemed the perfect catch
the diamond ring that spells commitment
it was just paste: he was so slick
promises of everlasting
painted pictures of such bliss
illusions of true understanding
the one that always would persist
took her flower in the heat of passion
the honey from his lips it dripped
sought for everlasting happiness in desperation
but from her hands, an eel as slippery
grasped emptiness that leaves you miffed
Written by slipalong
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A Jar of Bees
I used to get into loads of trouble in my heyday
But I guess I used to like opening a can of worms
Watching the situation develop you could say
The mess I made would end up in bad terms
But worms move slowly, gradual and grossly
Giving you some time to think, move or react
The analogy is closely related but it’s also mostly
A way to explain how much it can have an impact
Open a jar of bees and these you will not appease
You’ll need to move fast or it’ll feel very prickly
Everything will go up by a couple of degrees
Because the situation is going to escalate quickly
Next thing you know you’ll be running in circles
The sting will bring a new kind of suffering
Might as well play music like you’re in a circus
While you jab, punch and miss with every swing
Opening a jar of bees might sound a little funny
When you hear the buzz you know it’s going to be bad
You’ll be in a swarm of trouble but most of all honey
Those little motherfuckers are going to be mad
So be wary and don’t try to open a jar of bees
Don’t make those kinds of decisions on the fly
And if you do, know your mind won’t be at ease
Oh please believe me, take it from this guy
Written by wallyroo92
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Related submission no longer exists.
Old and Wise...
To be old and wise is the goal of us all.
The experience of a lifetime is priceless
That experience carries a curse of not
being able to change the wrongs we saw.
Young adults are preoccupied with work,
raising a family and perhaps civic obligations.
With those obligations behind us, we tend to
think back to what we could have done differently.
Concerns of the cost of retirement and
necessary insurances dominate the
conversation. Do we downsize, sell
the homestead. What about the possessions?
Then there’s health. Keeping track of a
dozen pill bottles. When to take each,
how many and at what time. Refills,
which ones and when. Which pharmacy?
Needs are fewer as time goes on.
Walking the dog, mowing the lawn are
part of the new normal. Occasional
painting but the days of ladders are gone.
What’s most important is love and companionship.
A fifty year marriage has bonded you.
When you saw her at 16, you loved her
50 years later, when you look, she’s still 16.
But now the ultimate concern is death.
Time is running out. Who will care for her?
The children have their own families.
I pray to live one day less than her.
The experience of a lifetime is priceless
That experience carries a curse of not
being able to change the wrongs we saw.
Young adults are preoccupied with work,
raising a family and perhaps civic obligations.
With those obligations behind us, we tend to
think back to what we could have done differently.
Concerns of the cost of retirement and
necessary insurances dominate the
conversation. Do we downsize, sell
the homestead. What about the possessions?
Then there’s health. Keeping track of a
dozen pill bottles. When to take each,
how many and at what time. Refills,
which ones and when. Which pharmacy?
Needs are fewer as time goes on.
Walking the dog, mowing the lawn are
part of the new normal. Occasional
painting but the days of ladders are gone.
What’s most important is love and companionship.
A fifty year marriage has bonded you.
When you saw her at 16, you loved her
50 years later, when you look, she’s still 16.
But now the ultimate concern is death.
Time is running out. Who will care for her?
The children have their own families.
I pray to live one day less than her.
Written by anvinvil
(Anvillan)
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