Dear Clichés

Dear Clichés,

It’s easy to overlook you,

Especially because in storybooks you,

Always let the guy get the girl

Or allow the hero to save the world.

Looking up cliché in the dictionary,

Slow as molasses in January,

And examples like black as pitch,

Get the short end of the stick.

Even more clichés like,

It’s like riding a bike,

And so often used, par for the course,

Might as well beat a dead horse.

You lose meaning for not thinking outside the box,

And that lack of originality has you on the rocks.

Also you’re usually put under the gun,

Because people attack banal idioms.

Putting you in writing can be suicide,

Because your truism often falls by the wayside,

And you’re usually considered a last ditch effort,

And overuse comes off to some as a broken record.

As a literary device,

You’re kind of on thin ice,

But if you want my two-cents worth,

You’re the salt of the Earth.

Like a dog without a bone,

Humans with their noses to the grindstone

Could not express their labors of love,

Without a clichés’ help to reach the heart of.

In a weird twist of fate,

Your meanings set the record straight,

Teaching us that burning both ends of the candle,

Will leave us, literally, too hot to handle.

Because of clichés like you,

When we bite off more than we can chew,

We learn when in Rome,

Do as the Romans do, until the cows come home.

When we lose an uphill battle,

Clichés teach us: Get back in that saddle!

You clichés make the best of bad situations,

Because even though you teach of trials and tribulations,

Some say using you is like spinning our wheels,

And it’s a slippery writing slope as slippery as eels.

Maybe nothing more needs be said,

Because you hit the nail on the head.

Leaving no stones unturned,

Your messages help people live and let learn.

No longer should you be low man on the totem pole…

I say we use you, and let the good times roll!

Maybe to some I’m barking up the wrong tree,

But I’d say their arguments are all Greek to me.

Because their doubts are as clear as mud,

I say their persecution of you be nipped in the bud.

Clichés, you exist,

Not because of the luck of the Irish,

But because when we lose our heads,

Clichés are advice to the best of our knowledge.

Don’t let others rub you the wrong way,

Keep being you, and seize the day!

Warm wishes,

From someone who hopes this won’t leave her sleeping with the fishes.

P.S. I might be going to writing hell,

But all is well that ends well.