Some wanted a mock monarchy
most were in favour of democracy
those who liked lawless preferred anarchy
few voted authoritarian
all with shifting goals, tipsy objectives
too many hands holding too many spoons
clashing in a hot soup pot, like blot bots
veggies ended in rotting heaped up coup !
FIRST PLACING : STANDARD CONTEST
Contest: Drop the Cliche
sponsor : Nette Onclaud
13.12.25
Love turns into despair
As a slipper who can't find his pair,
All we want is love that's fair
But with you, it's so hard to bear.
The feeling that echo
That we can't let go.
Those foolish things, we repeat
Seems like a constant beat.
One's blinded with stupidity
In the end, oh what a pity.
Once heart's rebound
A soul can be drowned.
Repetition of chances
A dark side of love glances.
Above all pain,
It's love that can't be maintained.
In the middle of the night
Where dreams take flight
I always think about you, every day and night.
Whenever our eyes meet
My heart always skips a beat.
Clingy, yet oh so sweet
Admiring you from afar
In my eyes, you shine like a rockstar
While you see another like a star.
It's not like I can tell you I love you
How would I even say it?
Those three words?
They don't mean anything anymore
We've all heard them so many times (in some way or another), that it's practically an old cliché
As true as it might be, we'll never imbibe the meaning
Not as long as poets like me exist
We have ruined the impact
I'm going to level with you
I don't know how to say it
Everyone has already told this story
It's all been said before
But it's true
Every word of it is true
I guess I never realized how true it was
But now I know
Every story about butterflies my stomach
Every song about setting my heart aflutter
They've been told time and time again
And every word is true
Every story
Every note
All of it
It's all true, and it's about real things I feel about you
The words seem trite, but they're all real
For me, anyway
I love you
With every story and song
Love has been made cliché
The words won't mean anything to you
So instead, I'll give you a squeeze
And hope that the message comes through
When I recall the spilt milk of my youth I want to cry
regardless of all the water that has passed under the bridge.
On quiet nights I often find myself looking back across those bridges
that I burned so long ago and still I see all my misserable yesterdays
like so many wind blown leaves swirled into a great pile on the ground.
Now even bushel baskets full of yesterdays won't buy me one more day.
But peering ahead over the distant fence where the grass is much greener
I am seeing all my tomorrows lined up neatly in a row.
Stuck in my head,
All of those tears I've shed,
So many times I've bled,
Now you're here in their stead.
Missing your hazel eyes,
As soft as the skies,
I'll think of you tonight;
You're all thats on my mind.
A love like ecstasy;
Who knew It'd set us free?
Others are so soon to disavow,
But just look who's laughing now.
Now I implore you
To ignore the disarray
Of all things fake surrounding us
Because we're whats real today.
Cliché is my editor’s only
enemy. He lives, entirely
his own life, upon the sea
of muses where this C-
word is not to be
used by any
editor
just like
me
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