Neither Cliches Nor Conceits

I find, in my own writing, that it is difficult not to incorporate metaphors. I have tried writing haiku, and in such a small space, meant for meditating, I tend towards metaphor. Haiku, traditionally, does not incorporate the device; it is more literal. But a good metaphor does provoke meditation. For instance:

the beloved enters --
the sea of people dissipates
as I see her wave

The challenge is to avoid clichés and conceits. I suppose each writer, in their youth, considers using clichés. From "All the world’s a stage," to "Life is like a box of chocolates," the too-common metaphors were original once, and hold some truth to keep them in the lexicon. They’re not useless today as the poet may use them to set up a twist. But the use of overused metaphors risks losing the reader, and certainly an editor. The cliché may be original to the poet, written with the excitement of a discovery – Eureka! I’ve noticed my love is like an arrow! -- but to the reader it’s hackneyed.

The other problem metaphors pose, beside originality, is the conceit -- a method of metaphor Renaissance poets used to highlight their wit. By today’s standards, their conceits extend a metaphor past the point of breaking. Perhaps the most noted is John Donne’s "The Flea," in which the insect becomes the instrument of mixing the blood of the poet and the beloved, an act then considered synonymous with sex. The flea becomes a symbol for their love and their marriage bed. The poem is amusing, even delightful, as much Renaissance poetry is, but such far-fetched metaphors draw attention to the poet rather than the poem.

Recently I have been reading poetry by Ted Kooser. I enjoy his poetry, personally, because I relate to the themes. His poetry is not so esoteric that I need online searches or the author’s guide to his own poetry to understand anything of what I read. Apart from the personal appreciation I also credit Kooser with creating very good metaphors. I would like to include some examples of his metaphors here. These are from his collection of poetry, Delights and Shadows.

"its shadowy speaker behind a thin lattice like the face of a priest."
From "Zenith"

"a storm that walked on legs of lightning"
From "Mother"

[When writing of a young woman in a wheelchair]
"You have seen how pianists
sometimes bend forward to strike the keys,
then lift their hands, draw back to rest,
then lean again to strike just as the chord fades.
Such is the way this woman
strikes at the wheels...."
From "A Rainy Morning"