Cliché Poems - Poems about Cliché

Love turns into despair As a slipper who can't find his pair, All we want is love that's fair But with you, it's so hard to bear. The feeling that echo That we can't let go. Those foolish things, we repeat Seems like a constant beat. One's blinded with stupidity In the end, oh what a pity. Once heart's rebound A...

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In the middle of the night Where dreams take flight I always think about you, every day and night. Whenever our eyes meet My heart always skips a beat. Clingy, yet oh so sweet Admiring you from afar In my eyes, you shine like a rockstar While you see another like a star. ...

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It's not like I can tell you I love you How would I even say it? Those three words? They don't mean anything anymore We've all heard them so many times (in some way or another), that it's practically an old cliché As true as it might be, we'll never imbibe the meaning Not as long as poets like me exist We...

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I'm going to level with you I don't know how to say it Everyone has already told this story It's all been said before But it's true Every word of it is true I guess I never realized how true it was But now I know Every story about butterflies my stomach Every song about setting my heart aflutter They've been told time and time...

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Love has been made cliché The words won't mean anything to you So instead, I'll give you a squeeze And hope that the message comes through...

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When I recall the spilt milk of my youth I want to cry regardless of all the water that has passed under the bridge.  On quiet nights I often find myself looking back across those bridges that I burned so long ago and still I see all my misserable yesterdays like so many wind blown leaves swirled...

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Stuck in my head, All of those tears I've shed, So many times I've bled, Now you're here in their stead. Missing your hazel eyes, As soft as the skies, I'll think of you tonight; You're all thats on my mind. A love like ecstasy; Who knew It'd set us free? Others are so soon to disavow, But just look who's laughing now. Now I implore you To...

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Cliché is my editor’s only enemy. He lives, entirely his own life, upon the sea of muses where this C- word is not to be used by any editor just like me...

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