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To fix a headlock on a
metaphor, or
clamp a full nelson on a
simile, body slam a weak
double-entendre &
choke the life out of a
forced rhyme. To get a toe hold on a
trochee, apply an
armlock that brings a
cliche to its knees, dropp an elbow on
trite alliteration, or
execute a powerbomb as easily as
coining a phrase. To lay the smackdown on
doggerel, and fling a
timeworn platitude from the ring, bridge
out of a writer's
block, pin
down
that cringing flowery sentiment &
celebrate that
seamless rhyme as the
referee slaps the
mat with that triplet coda &
calls for the bell
fresh and sharp as a sapling sprouting new
looming over your flattened foe
as the oak stands awesome and true.
Poetry and wrestling, each an art
not easily mastered,
like shaping a schooner from fresh-cut wood
or a god from alabaster.
Cretan Maineiac
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