Poetry 101 -I Spy A cliché

[Halx]

That's precisely the reason why I am going to bed now.

Good day/night.

 

[Whispersecret]

Re: Commmingggggg!!!!!!!!!!!

Whisper,

You are right! and wrong! Of course so am I. Perhaps I am looking at the word choice with too powerful a microscope. I shall back away.

You are correct that there are many examples of excellent romantic poetry in fact I would dare say the best.

I should say I love a cliché, as I love rhyme and meter. I simply advocate the use of them wisely, judiciously. The debate can go on, yet to what end? I hope you can agree with me that very little of value can come from:

"the passions of the lovers erupted, causing lust to cascade down their trembling entwined limbs and form into pools of satiated desires. A reservoir of afterglow still smoldering, still white hot with their love. Peaking, building, ….. "

Hey Whipsersecret and/or someone stop or join me. We could have the longest, most cliché laden orgasm in the history of the recorded word.

U.P.

Dear U.P., I would adore to both agree and disagree with you on the concept of cliche.

I, for one, am glad to have another person on this board who cares about the use of our language. You keep doing what you're doing.

Oh, and there's no need to help you out with your cliche-ridden orgasm. There are enough examples of that type of writing in the story section. (Probably in my own, too. LOL.)

 

[twelveoone]

Whispersecret, much of what you say is true. Although I believe a word can be cliché. For example if you are writing a poem about a women’s vagina. Using flower or fruit to represent it in the poem is cliché.
In a poem about love using the words:
passion, desire lust, etc are cliché. It is a monumental task to write a poem or poetic prose without cliché the inventive poets finds a way to minimize the cliché words or phases to allow the reader a fresh perspective. Otherwise we all sound the same. The cliché word is a word of convenience. So often used the single word is a phrase. Many poets (myself included) compound the problem by stringing cliché words together to create the phrases you allude to.
I write poems with cliche word and sometimes phrases but i always make sure I hide them around enough fresh words and image that they add to the body of the poem.
This is course is my opinion. Can corny be cliché? Sure it can. Can corny be non-cliché ridden? Of course. Can a cliché poem have merit? I believe it can. Very nice questions.

Isn’t poetry wonderful?

U.P.

Aren't old threads wonderfull?
Don''t take my Pomegranate
Don't take my Apple core
Oh la, la, Papaya

How about a cheese steak?

 

[Rybka]

Aren't old threads wonderfull?
Don''t take my Pomegranate
Don't take my Apple core
Oh la, la, Papaya

How about a cheese steak?

Oyster Pie

Eating crackers

crumbs in bed
moister oyster
by my head
spreading
beard apart
juicy
a la carte
pink pearl
on the half-shell

Eating oyster pie

-*-​

Rybka '02

 

[twelveoone]

Oyster Pie

Eating crackers

crumbs in bed
moister oyster
by my head
spreading
beard apart
juicy
a la carte
pink pearl
on the half-shell

Eating oyster pie

-*-​

Rybka '02

rates a four because I'm generous - WARNING - enters in clichedom

but it has no pouty lips

 

[bogusbrig]

Oysters are a favourite
With lemon juice a must
It makes it wriggle
It makes it writhe
But most of all...
It makes it sting!

Be generous with the lemon
A little bit of sweet
A little bit of sour
Makes the salty dish twitch
And open like a flower
Then with delight...BITE!

 

[twelveoone]

Oysters are a favourite
With lemon juice a must
It makes it wriggle
It makes it writhe
But most of all...
It makes it sting!

Be generous with the lemon
A little bit of sweet
A little bit of sour
Makes the salty dish twitch
And open like a flower
Then with delight...BITE!

this I'll raise to a five, lemon was a nice touch

 

[WickedEve]

steady my resolve
impassioned breath
rise and fall of your chest

There's my three. I see more, but I'll give someone else a shot. lol

It's still not a bad poem. You posted it before, and I thought it was good, but now that I've been reading and writing more poetry, I can see what you're saying, U.P.

It is not good, you silly twat... twit... whatever. Actually, I like the first choice.

 

[twelveoone]

It is not good, you silly twat... twit... whatever. Actually, I like the first choice.

we are all twits here, unless you join

 

[Tzara]

Aren't old threads wonderfull?
Don''t take my Pomegranate
Don't take my Apple core
Oh la, la, Papaya

How about a cheese steak?

poet's travail

ma petite fleur
seems now a slur
poems can't endure

i'd say you yowl
but that's a vowel
makes critic howl

papaya brunch
at which i munch
mere cliché junk

so drop my pen
and raise your hem

(sigh)

research again

 

[anonamouse]

you people are a bunch of clam heads
don't you know, within two years everything about sex becomes a cliche
Consider the phrase "hard drive" within six months....
I say go back to the classics - figs

 

[bogusbrig]

you people are a bunch of clam heads
don't you know, within two years everything about sex becomes a cliche
Consider the phrase "hard drive" within six months....
I say go back to the classics - figs

Clams! Thanks anonomouse!

Her thighs were as tight
As a clam about my head
Every time I tickled her clit
With my curious proboscis
She would crack my skull
Like it was a walnut shell
Between her clam tight thighs

 

[Tzara]

Clams! Thanks anonomouse!

Her thighs were as tight
As a clam about my head
Every time I tickled her clit
With my curious proboscis
She would crack my skull
Like it was a walnut shell
Between her clam tight thighs

O a clam is just a bivalve--
a passive dweller in the sea.
Just a muscled tender siphon
straining things on which to feed.

But be wary of that outer shell
that yawns so fetchingly
it can trap a tender proboscis
that probes too ticklishly!

 

[bogusbrig]

O a clam is just a bivalve--
a passive dweller in the sea.
Just a muscled tender siphon
straining things on which to feed.

But be wary of that outer shell
that yawns so fetchingly
it can trap a tender proboscis
that probes too ticklishly!

It was her penis envy
(According to Freud at least)
That when my probing proboscis
Tickled her bivalve most intimately
She closed her thighs
With the force of a clam
And made me sing soprano

 

[Tzara]

It was her penis envy
(According to Freud at least)
That when my probing proboscis
Tickled her bivalve most intimately
She closed her thighs
With the force of a clam
And made me sing soprano

O Electra! How complex desire seems!
To capture Agamemnon's thrusts, you
lie, beneath your sire's thighs
and open to his tainted love, wife
to your mother's husband. No wonder
Klytemnestra's milk sours in your
whore's mouth and Aegisthus claims
her once unstainèd bed. Lost penis
do you seek? 'Twas Jung's thought--not
really Freud's. Your unhappy family
by lust by war remains destroyed.

 

[bogusbrig]

O Electra! How complex desire seems!
To capture Agamemnon's thrusts, you
lie, beneath your sire's thighs
and open to to his tainted love, wife
to your mother's husband. No wonder
Klytemnestra's milk sours in your
whore's mouth and Aegisthus claims
her once unstainèd bed. Lost penis
do you seek? 'Twas Jung's thought--not
really Freud's. Your unhappy family
by lust by war remains destroyed.

Psychoanalysis remains a pseudo science
Akin to dancing naked around a tree
In hope that one can stake the maids
And have them bloat ones ego

Whether Jung or Freud who really cares
As long as I don't have to go to work
But linger in the female dorms
And have them admire my member

 

[Tzara]

Psychoanalysis remains a pseudo science
Akin to dancing naked around a tree
In hope that one can stake the maids
And have them bloat ones ego

Whether Jung or Freud who really cares
As long as I don't have to go to work
But linger in the female dorms
And have them admire my member

Shakespeare as Voyeur

Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?

Sit and spy behind this tree!

(Yeah, yeah. Cheating. The wyf says I have to go paint the bedroom closet.)

 

[bogusbrig]

Shakespeare as Voyeur

Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?

Sit and spy behind this tree!

(Yeah, yeah. Cheating. The wyf says I have to go paint the bedroom closet.)

The closet is wonderful a shrine
The Sistine Chapel of the house
And deserving of your attention
So paint those homo-erotic nudes
That swirl about the ceiling
And should your wife
Question your taste in men
Just shrug your shoulders and act surprised
And tell her it's not what she's thinking

 

[twelveoone]

Bogus, Tzara
I am willing to pass on my self appointed title of Doge of Doggeral to either of you two. I am in awe. I still can't stop laughing.

 

[Tzara]

The closet is wonderful a shrine
The Sistine Chapel of the house
And deserving of your attention
So paint those homo-erotic nudes
That swirl about the ceiling
And should your wife
Question your taste in men
Just shrug your shoulders and act surprised
And tell her it's not what she's thinking

Il miglior fabbro

The closeted Mick Angelo
Stares at his ceiling reeling
That his figures gesso swirled homo-
Erotic sway present feeling.

Should he, our Mick, stay cold or go
Public exotic leaning?

Don't know.

But.

In the room the women come and go.
They talk of him, but soft and low.