Best Cliched Poems
My eyes were sorely struck when once they perceived
verity in your insightful words. Oh, how they grieved
when you chose to kneel low enough to kiss the ring
of a cunning being, whose unmerited praises you sing
My ignorance would have been a cliched state of bliss
if I'd not stumbled into great depth of a poetic abyss
'Twas with bitter regret that I unveiled your charade
No longer do I doubt the crux of a contrived crusade
With prudence and humble nature, you oft' disclosed
but a false facade was revealed and hubris exposed
As a poet you declared compassion and a meek heart
but sold your feeble soul for the nod of a counterpart
Poet, I hungrily supped at the banquet of your lines
but a person's integrity is one that genuinely defines
human value. From reading you, I refrain and eschew
Aware of your pretexts, I know what motivates you
*You may think I only post something on PS when I have a gripe, and I have when I've felt it was warranted. It's your right to believe what you will. My recent posts prove otherwise, but after very recently reading something that touched my heart in a sadly profound way, I chose to write about it instead of trying to forget that I saw the words. Writing has always been a means of comfort, solace and closure. This write serves as a dissolution for me.
Categories:
cliched, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
Wake up a little earlier; another troubled night
But the remnants of pre-birthday make-up still do their job remarkably
Smile for the camera; these pictures are keepers, so realistically modelled for
Thank yous for unthoughtful offerings; why hurt feelings after all?
A dozen friends all come along; it's not their scene but they want to please me
Can't look over there, have to be the last to go through the door
They're trying so hard, all their love gathering on my windowsill
Some cards handmade with heartfelt affection, gifts so vague and cliched, more
roses than I could care for
And your dusty eyes still staring through them all from behind the frame
Complete the scene as my headstone
Couldn't have slept at all
Excitedly imagining what you were planning
Warm in your jacket you gave me to sleep in
Wouldn't lift or lower my foolish head
Jitters looking forward to you
Flash could've gone off but we wouldn't notice
Shroud me with your words, promises you could not keep
All the guests combined; a less than you companion
I wonder why we couldn't make it through?
And I'd never had to say goodbye 'til the day that I met you
All that I'd got for we pushed them all out
And I didn't miss them.
Didn't miss them.
Why are you still asking after me?
How do you still reach into my eyes
Before I turn away?
What happened to let us get like this and tell me
When can it end?
How is it I want it to stay?
Though there's a soft spot for you in my heart and you're
Slowly seeping out
Frozen as this face remains
Breaking when I'm forced to recall
I'm 18 and you're not here
But she passed on your message for me
Happy Birthday.
And in those obligated words it all crashes back
I'll keep all our secrets and ignore all the rest
The world we made and left to decay
Keeps me smiling for every wasted day.
Categories:
cliched, angst, depression, friendship, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
Its creation’s simplicity still stands as a difficult puzzle
head is twisted backwards while in a forward motion
still looking behind at the chronicles of some centuries ago
long before the infiltration of Christian missionaries and Arab traders
is the exact factor making its existence seemingly complex.
Foreign politics and faiths both adopted,
have tied it with the ropes of inferiority
systematically indoctrinated to condemn
its history, personality and civilization,
while grabbing other languages and cultures so dearly
to the point of blindly pushed into Anarchy.
The modern world is on a high speed,
excuses of the west’s exploitations to build their civilizations
are noisy complaints and already cliched.
Small islands with no natural resources as Singapore;
the awe of the miracle of the Han River portrayed by south Korea
and the magical performance of India in information technology
are evidences of old colonies
beating their colonizers in some phases of development.
From Abuja to Addis Ababa, Khartounm to Kigali,
no Caucasian is seen, staying in charge of its state houses
but to give reasons to its mediocrity and indifference,
conspiracy theories and neo-imperialism twaddle are coined.
All these, just complications of a chronic low self esteem
but unfortunately manifesting at a time it should be confident
in the chaotic universe
of western imperialism, Christian materialism and Arab expansionism.
Categories:
cliched, abuse, africa, black african
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Color is a unique sensation/,
Color doesn't sense.
Senseless color is.
Is color one way or the other?
Color may not be what it is.
It may not be what color is—either.
Expressively cliched, color isn't always black and white.
Why devil within the lines of this wall?
This is wall the color really is.
Wall color is chosen.
We simply paint here.
Rainbows contain primary color.
That is standard color opinion.
They colored.
We copied them.
Let's re-invent the wheel.
I believe in that.
That re-invent isn't grammatically justifiable.
More descriptive and less coloring; are many other fun words.
Color letters with a new; improved model.
Call it may.
Color it gray.
Say may color gray call it happy day today tomorrow and maybe re-shape yesterday.
Color which way you may.
No amount is required no less no more.
Allow how color now—meow.
Color these blind and laugh in loud without making any such sound found on flat ground color round.
Dollop a scoop of skinny hint belly button lint and glue color to it.
New colors are sluu, slah, vert, Iopa, wible
Shall we double new dripples?
Color isn't tame.
Black is what and white is lame.
Lupa-vert sluu-slah and wibble are what it is.
My personal invention describing details indeed.
Upgraded in colored eyes are now noeen-Lupa skies shooting moon wibble dream.
Noeen pupils iris of opaque euqapo.
Grooped krad etihw...
Confusing when you learn about color.
Trick is allowance.
Tolerate my perception however reverse.
-sdrawkcaB-
11-13-15
Categories:
cliched, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
True love for a nerd (specifically a logophile)
True love for a nerd, specifically a logophile... is him not interrupting you while you read, just watching your face, and you, who could read through 7th period in all its rowdy noisiness, who wouldn't look up from the page to see the world end... feel his gaze, and you look up. And smile. And then look down again because, come on, you have to make sure the main character lives.
It's being able to flirt in an extended metaphor in such a way that I'd like to think is at least as poetic as "Oh what light through yonder window breaks."
It's laughing at how disgustingly cliched it all is and not caring.
It's discussing grammar and definitions and both of you are interested in the conversation. Or he pretends, and that's just as good.
It's a bed full of scraps of poetry and suddenly sitting up at midnight because his smile is like daybreak, like summer, and lovely and oh my god someone needs to put it into a poem; sleep is a neccesary sacrifice!
It's letting the person you wrote a poem about actually read the poem you wrote about them.
It's being able to read poetry to someone that actually enjoys it for the beauty of words and not solely because it's horribly romantic... although it is.
It's playing word games, tossing rhymes back and forth until the volley is stopped short in the face of an argument over whether non-english words are permissible.
It's him suddenly saying... "We should read together."
It's him saying he wants me to correct his grammar. It's being accepted as a grammar nazi.
It's hearing intelligent thought come out of his mouth... I am an admitted sapiosexual, and damn, he makes intelligence sound hot.
It's like the unread book that you found on your shelf when you felt sure you'd read them all.
It's the story you'd thought you had predicted at the outset but that surprises you by being unconventional and utterly unexpected... it's almost frustrating... yet exciting.
It's the poem you didn't understand, and then you did.
Categories:
cliched, boyfriend, cute love, funny
Form:
List
Those kisses from behind
when I cooking supper
make me feel so wonderful
It is like being a newly wed
you taste wonderful
mixed with sauteed vegetables
Like you love a dab of onion behind my ear
those little bites you feed me
and then I share could make the blind see
And although I have kissed those lips a million times
it is not enough for me
I pray to be doing this with long white hair
on into our destiny
I just feel like being silly. I am going through the most wonderful
time with my husband of 26 years. He has become Romeo and
I have become putty in his hands. So be looking for cliched lovey dovey junk. hehehe
Categories:
cliched, husband, joy, kiss, love,
Form:
Free verse
I love them, truly love them and surely always will
They come for me in hope when sleep eludes my night
They dance about my mind in early morning chill
And fill my world with joy resplendent in their might
They know I crave their beauty and they, my fertile mind
As such the deal is struck when patience bides their time
They deluge me in torrents and I repay in kind
By shaping tumbled phrases into sweet balanced rhyme
Still as I form the verses and satisfy their needs
And feel the urge within me give out in rhythmic beat
I cultivate bright flowers from errant wayward seeds
To cherish and delight, our odyssey complete
Though I am now fulfilled my talent all but spent
We know you sing, they say, please make of us a song
A musical refrain would add such sentiment
To give up on us now would be a dreadful wrong
Then I compose in haste some jaded cliched tune
To still their firm demands, though pleasing I confess
Calm order is restored at last and none too soon
As I beseech the words and notes to coalesce
Yet here the song complete is futile then they say
Until it is performed so others can rejoice
And celebrate our charm and so you must hold sway
And manifest our worth with spiritual voice
The lyric then performed on unforgiving stage
I settle knowing I have doubtless played my part
Yet what are these strange texts that would with me engage
More words, new words insistent their message to impart
Although the constant clamor denies me of my rest
I cannot rail for long or wail as well I might
For I know I am chosen and thus so truly blessed
By words that will enchant, all's well bring on the night.
Categories:
cliched, addiction,
Form:
Elegy
Do forgive me, it has been a while,
And perhaps far too long, since I've been here last,
With you or with such burdensome weight.
Hands clasped between my thighs, awkwardly sitting,
And I swear and I could hear the ants go marching,
As I scramble for a spiel, some wit, or some cliched formality.
But I've lost my over-the-shower outline, over those tangled
Imissedyou's and howhaveyoubeen's we've just exchanged.
I'm left no choice but to begin this awful rant free of an awful segue.
So flashing a smile, then a (scared little) chuckle, I take a heavy breath
Then try to die (and sadly fail), I guess there's no exit. Finally, courage
So here goes nothing. "Here I am, and you are here with me,
With your face ever transcendent and ears poised
To hear from me, what sooner or later will no longer be
My secret. And for what it's worth, thank you for coming.
You look stunning by the way, and maybe I could end here,
With you finding, that in my heart you've always been
Such a very beautiful thing. Need much else be said?
But just as well, you are with him. Or with nobody. I do not know,
As long you are not with me, I do not care.
But let me say that I think, you were quite the everything I was looking for,
Ah, that you are not with me when I miss you,
And it's annoying that I will always miss you,
But we all learn to live with the things we do not have.
And now I'm okay. My secret is just that
It had not been easy."
Beyond that, there is no making this right again,
And there is no further peace I would like to regain,
And there is nothing to absolve me from,
There's no need for resolution,
This... is not that kind of confession.
And having loved you is no sin.
Categories:
cliched, longing, love,
Form:
Free verse
deeper-day-dreaming.
was he not a confident lover?
disheveled-darning-dominant.
confidence is not letting what may be disheveled in you get so deep that it dominates
so by day, be daring.
dream.
he transformed into all she needed.
he was all she needed.
cliched or not, it all happened for them overnight.
he made his great-grandparents proud
after explaining "what you felt in that moment"
Categories:
cliched, destiny,
Form:
Free verse
I am writing to tell you
that I don't love you.
I never did.
I never will.
I don't miss you at all.
The truth is,
I never found your adoration
anything but arduous.
Your kindess cliched.
Your compliments thoughtless.
And it has become obvious to me
that your love for me
was merely infatuation
with who you thought I could be.
Categories:
cliched, girlfriend-boyfriend, lost love, teen,
Form:
Free verse
shackled
daily wager
sweat of brow not so sweet
muscle and sinews strain, work out
to earn dough for bread, and to work out, too
cyclic diurnal grind of life
cliched, i know, but true
god's creation
enchained
Categories:
cliched, angst, destiny, urban,
Form:
Rictameter
"Life is short!" Cliched.
But true. Each day that goes by
Is never regained
Categories:
cliched, freedom, hope, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Haiku
I love you more than the word
May you spread your wings; fly like a bird
If I didn't mean it I wouldn't say it
Would I?
So cliched and yet so true
No less original than I love you
You use me now, and throw me away
But we know we'll make up the following day
Puppets to these emotions
And we all put into play
When all emotion is lost
Lifeless we are left to lie
Used by our hearts
And destroyed when we part
Cry blood when you bid farewell
But still we forgive, Oh well...
In the name of love
The blessing from above
We all stick to the ordinary
And that's cliched love
Mpho Lebohang Mokhele
Categories:
cliched, love, mysterylove, me,
Form:
We laugh and cry. We smile and have fun
But even when that is all said and done
In our hearts still lie the sadness and woes
I guess our brains are too slow to know
No amount of cheer can hold back what we feel
With our souls overwhelmed we each find our way to deal
Whether in anger or anxiety, in guarded fear or open minds
We know that they are with us, in front and behind
As birds of a feather we are drawn together
Each carrying with us a pain that binds forever
We have become so much more than simply friends
The strength that we carry in us will always mend
Our broken hearts and tradgic tales
The hardships we have endured will make us prevail
We are the women that we are today
Because we let no limits hold us at bay.
Written on the 11th of September as proof of the strength that I see everyday not just in my family and friends but in women everywhere. Not to be cliched but I truely believe that the ones I wrote this for are amazing women that I cherish very much and I hope you can feel it too :)
Categories:
cliched, daughter, hope, inspirational, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Sheep is general, as a term
cliched by constant use.
One wonders why the name is used
as a form of soft abuse.
There's nothing wrong with sheep as such,
they're just not very bright -
But who knows, really, what goes through
their minds when they wake to the light?
Perhaps for sheep it's really rude
not to do as others do.
To be a model citizen means
just NOT being YOU!
Perhaps they've synchronized their thoughts,
and operate as one
An Organism alive in thoughts
on auto, as they seek the sun.
Just maybe, sheep aren't as they seem
to us, who eat their flesh.
With less attention to our bodies,
perhaps OUR minds would mesh.
For physical, as most we are,
our bodies mean a lot -
If we went auto, just like sheep
Would WE care if we're lunch, or not?
Categories:
cliched, funny,
Form:
Rhyme