While reading through the Minot chapters I came across the
section about Clichés. He expressed how too many clichés in any type of work
would simply destroy it, especially a poem. So the rebel in me had a split
second idea, “What if I wrote a poem using nothing but clichés?” I laughed it
off and went back to reading. Pages later the idea continued to creep back into
my mental vision, and again I blinked it away. But then I thought what if I
used solely clichés but inverted them? Welcome to the mind of Reggie…
I count my curses for my blessing fell down in the dumps
Like a bat out of heaven, but if a bird in hand is worth two
birds on a cactus
Then I’m all third fingers up- but tomorrow is the same day
There is a flickering light in the center of the tunnel
With my ears to the sky, an eye-for-an-I
It must be the luck of the American.
Wide awake last morning, I cried a lake last mourning
Curiosity killed my road dog, as my eyes cried crocodile
sweat
Hail storms on my parade, Bloody red carpet treatment disguised
in blue suede
The nice guy never finished, nerves of wood-opening
Pandora’s app
Searching for my third wind feeling sharp as a tic…
I stopped on a nickel to taste the roses, and wished upon an
asteroid.
Sliding across frozen bridges, busy as a wasp
Something is floating in my stomach
I reckon it’s a moth
I made my bed and told lies in it
Hey, every dog has his night
The ground is my only limit… it was tacky meeting you here
Free as a caged bird, that sings with a toad in his throat
Prince vulgar I beg to agree, just mark my verbs.
