Unmasked Poet
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2001
- Posts
- 429
Here we go.
Below is a poem filled with enough hackneyed words and phrases to cause a poetry fan's eyes to water. Otherwise know as the cliché. Here the challenge is to find the cliché and list them. Limit your finds to 3 clichés per post and no repeating of clichés Remember cliché phrases can be listed also. We start with the lamenting tortured soul poem enititled:
FIX
written by anonymous
there is no copyright who would want to
I fought toward sleep last night, cold and shivering in the June heat.
Taught desire pushes through my veins, holding me on a fine edge.
It is an odd mix of pleasure and despair.
Enough of your touch is left from the day to calm the need,
yet to the remains of the night there is only want for more.
Seconds stand unmoving toward minutes,
who turn only at the prodding of infinity.
Anticipation breaks through to entwine with tension,
and a smile of hope is added, to put a pleasant face on desperation.
I fought this night to hold a memory kind and beckoning.
Eyes closed to steady my resolve.
A breath taken too deeply betrays desire.
With no pride, and stripped of pretense I wait for you,
for your touch,
the warmth of your soul.
The rise and fall of your chest with each impassioned breath.
Ahh there now moving through my veins
An itch...
A tingle
And there is just enough of your touch left to remind of what I am without.
A fix
Below is a poem filled with enough hackneyed words and phrases to cause a poetry fan's eyes to water. Otherwise know as the cliché. Here the challenge is to find the cliché and list them. Limit your finds to 3 clichés per post and no repeating of clichés Remember cliché phrases can be listed also. We start with the lamenting tortured soul poem enititled:
FIX
written by anonymous
there is no copyright who would want to
I fought toward sleep last night, cold and shivering in the June heat.
Taught desire pushes through my veins, holding me on a fine edge.
It is an odd mix of pleasure and despair.
Enough of your touch is left from the day to calm the need,
yet to the remains of the night there is only want for more.
Seconds stand unmoving toward minutes,
who turn only at the prodding of infinity.
Anticipation breaks through to entwine with tension,
and a smile of hope is added, to put a pleasant face on desperation.
I fought this night to hold a memory kind and beckoning.
Eyes closed to steady my resolve.
A breath taken too deeply betrays desire.
With no pride, and stripped of pretense I wait for you,
for your touch,
the warmth of your soul.
The rise and fall of your chest with each impassioned breath.
Ahh there now moving through my veins
An itch...
A tingle
And there is just enough of your touch left to remind of what I am without.
A fix
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