Poem Cliche Novels & Stories

"You act like you can fix everything." Cale flinched. A shadow crossed his face—guilt, sharp and sudden. "Not everything," Cale murmured. "Just... some things." "Like what? Like catching me when I fall?" "Like making sure you don't burn." Elion frowned. "Burn? I'm not going to burn." "It's a figure of speech." "You use a lot of those." "I'm a poet at heart." Elion let out a breathy laugh. "You're a weirdo at heart, Cale."

"Sail onward, ships--white wings, sail on, Till past the horizon's purple bar You drift from sight.--In flush of dawn Sail on, and 'neath the evening star-- Trash--trash--and yet there's a picture in it-- Lap softly, purple waves. I dream, And dreams are sweet--I'll wake no more-- Ah, but you'll have to wake if you want to accomplish anything. Girl, you've used purple twice in the same poem. Buttercups in a golden frenzy-- 'a golden frenzy'--girl, I see the wind shaking the buttercups, From the purple gates of the west I come-- You're too fond of purple, Emily." "It's such a lovely word," said Emily. "Dreams that seem too bright to die-- Seem but never are, Emily-- The luring voice of the ec

I asked. "Well, if you look at the format, it's poetic and you'll notice it kind of mirrors itself. See here?" He pointed to the lines on his phone. "The phrase one birth starts and ends the poem." "It's a chiasmus," I said, remembering a lesson on ancient poetry in English class. "Yes," he said with surprise. "That's an archaic literary device. You've heard of it?" I rolled my eyes. "I may be young, but I ain't dumb." It was a line Ruthie liked to use and one side of my mouth quirked up imagining her saying it.

"Oh, please! I'm nothing like those sickly annoying cliches the teenagers fawn about. Tell me one thing that's cliche about me, I dare you." I smirked at him. "Hmm... let's see." I thought for a while and made a show of counting my fingers as I started listing out. "For one, you're that cliched youngest billionaire, the most eligible bachelor." I made finger quotation gesture at that. "And oh, how can I forget the arrogant, rude, ruthless, cold, stone-hearted, cru-"

As a student of the dark arts, I’d have to say it was a stunning example of psychological manipulation — or it would have been except the fucker actually meant it. The fight went out of Claire and she threw her arms around Maurice’s neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She mumbled something. I love you too, You complete me, You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, blah, blah, blah... I don’t know what exactly, I was too busy trying not to throw up. What is it about sincere emotion that makes people suddenly spout cliches? And for everyone else to act like they’re hearing the greatest poetry ever? Flossie looked fit to burst with joy and had Dudley’s hand so tightly gripped in hers he look

Dunley Lewin, a hero among men, stands unrivaled above the land! Cassian and Griffin exchanged a glance before turning away at the same time. "What do you think of my poem, Cassian?" Dunley asked. "Is it not as remarkable as the ones by the bards of yore?" Couldn't Dunley be any less shameless? Not only was his poem filled with cliches, but the last sentence was even more shameless beyond belief! What was this nonsense about him being a hero among men and standing unrivaled? Why would that apply to the likes of him?

“DIE, DIE, DIE!” The word that is overuse right now in this world and book. The cliché curse that everyone is using to torment someone and pin into their minds that there is nothing that they can do but to take that suffering and endure everything. The same word that surprises and for a few seconds put Winona still on her place while the past and the dreaded origin of Kyle’s darkness plays. “What is this?” “You wish and current desire. The one that you told me that you wanted to see and understand?”

she said professionally, as if presenting the fourth quarter earnings. "Okay, so, I'm gonna power through a couple of the other points so I can get to the good stuff. With your point about clichés making your eyes glaze over, clearly, you've never seen anything like me. And besides, it's not gonna be cliché's making your eyes glaze over. And, not being afraid to blow you away... I mean, c'mon? You're practically spelling out how you want a slut on her knees... 'blowing you' away. And then, thinking outside the box, ignoring the list... clearly, I'm way ahead of you there," she said, quickly clicking through the slides.

’ After Silvia read the poem word by word, she felt goosebumps all over her body again. ‘Gosh, what kind of cliché poem is this?’ She could feel a wave of literary and artistic aura fill her. After searching online, she found that it was an ancient love poem. Silvia thought of the collection of poems Ryan had put on the bedside and was utterly speechless. It was said that a mere age difference of three years would lead to a generation gap. She was six years younger than him—that would make a wider generation gap. However, she had to admit that it seemed appropriate for him to use this poem to describe his current state of mind.

"Oh, please! I'm nothing like those sickly annoying clichés the teenagers fawn about. Tell me one thing that's cliché about me, I dare you." I smirked at him. "Hmm... let's see." I thought for a while and made a show of counting my fingers as I started listing out. "For one, you're that clichéd youngest billionaire, the most eligible bachelor." I made finger quotation gesture at that. "And oh, how can I forget the arrogant, rude, ruthless, cold, stone-hearted, cru-"