Nobody does vincible half as well as us*

Our vincible band of writers

marched unseeingly on,

as the clichés flowed like hydrants

to extinguish wintry sun.

The images donned their armbands

for the struggle to the shore,

crawled through the sands of thens and ands;

the flotsam of the jaw.

The adjectives drowned the pronouns,

yet the adverbs missed their cue,

while the metaphors fought with similes

to outwit the plain and true.

Our vincible band of wordsmiths

described, unknowingly, on,

deconstructed by our verbiage.

The war of words not won.

*my thanks to @MrLondonStreet  for the tweet that prompted this poem 

(and brightened an otherwise gloomy day).