Mundane Poems - Poems about Mundane

At the End of the Day

The voice within, a whisper bruised,

Fights the noise the world has used

To carve a man from primal bone

To cage the beast, to leash the lone.



The mind, a mat where wars unfold,

Instincts wild, but nurtured cold.

They tame him not with chains or rods,

But with applause and wooden Gods.



He wears the mask, rehearsed and tight,

Performs by day,

Muse

In the mirror I see, framed like a painting
a woman caught between 
the plain in yesterday
and the pointy yellow leaves
leaving for tomorrow—
She chases the leaves, not realizing
she never left the field

When sparrows stop chirping
and her steps can no longer keep up
the leaves she caught remind her:
this tale only ends
in the aftermath of a birdsong

She's the

Ordinary days Beautiful recirculation of my life

Wakey, wakey!

The buzz from my advanced THRITY THREE TEN seem to yell
Opened windows slapped aging mango leaves on my face
Monday already? Morning already?

Granny’s creaking chair again!
Savoring with folks of mine the bland toast with juicy old gossip, mom’s warm smile
Welcomed into my everyday worn out NIKE with pain 
Unending miles, but starts with a mile.

The

The Sky

I fall in love with the sky time after time again. 

Perhaps that is how I learned to love so hard, 

To love so much, 

And never expect anything in return. 

I fell in love first with something ever changing; 

Nothing can disappoint me after that.

Mundane

If I could follow
The blue kite soars in the sky
Escape the mundane

In light of it all

In light of it all 
In light of the mundane
the obtuse nature of the
*****sapiens
the willingness to adhere 
my soul delights in 
belief in dreams manifesting 
balance universally formed 
in mustard seeds and eternal springs 
things yet unseen 
a ladybug’s touch
plucked four leaf clovers
who can know 
who can cast foreshadows in-
in light of it all
in

Melancholy

Is it me? Is it real?
The feelings that I feel…
never seem to match 
the world around me.

What if I’m lost in time,
wrapped up in some sublime 
cosmic poet’s next attempt 
at melancholy?

I don’t ever feel at home,
most times would rather be alone. 
I’m broken, yeah I know
cuz I don’t change things. 

Maybe I’m just out

Groundhog Day

Does it matter what you do
or matter what you say?

Does anything mean anything
when you live Groundhog Day?

Is there a way to please the Gods
so that they’ll let you go?

Or maybe there’s no point at all.
Perhaps it’s just a show.

But what else can you do
if you find you’re stuck in this scene.

You have to just keep

Mundane

Sun ray sneaking up through the leaves,
Paving the way towards me hiding a story up in the sleeves.
A freshly brewed coffee in an undiscovered café,
While a heartfelt letter to a disputed man living the cliché.
A secluded place surrounded by every lover's dismay,
Completed by their unconditional love in display.
The sweet dreams are strangling my present days,
While

Cherishing the Mundane

You ask me why I stay,  
why these streets hold my steps,  
why my days fold together  
like waves that never rush, never roar.  

You wonder how I breathe this stillness,  
wake to mornings that echo themselves,  
find joy in things so small  
they slip through your grasp

Customized

Customized 

Custom requires behaviors which
Usually are good for us, but
Sometimes it is better if we
Think 
Outside the box and 
Make different choices and use our
Imagination to add
Zest to our lives so that
Every day 
Doesn't become mundane

The Mundane

I’m waiting at the bus stop.
It’s beautiful for some reason.
I’m embarrassed to think that it’s beautiful because it’s mundane.
It’s called a bus “stop.”
But there is movement everywhere.
Fingers moving from text to text.
I erase that in my mind because it’s corny.
I don’t have a pen, just my phone.
I can type on my phone, but that would

mundane

rising from bed in the morning
seeking shelter when it's storming
idly whiling stray hours away
dreaming there will be better days
fabricating a self-image
with a more prominent linage
doodling on back of a letter
shunning life as a go-getter

paying of various taxes
wielding rhetorical axes
stopping by the grocery store
dealing with muscles which are sore
waiting in the queue at the bank
musing why

Defying Predictability

With hair ablaze
a jester unconfined.
I scoffed at the mundane 
its life declined.
My wardrobe 
a riot
a rhapsody bold.
Mismatched socks my standard 
stories untold.

In classrooms of tedium 
rules I'd defy
Grasping forbidden knowledge 
'neath watchful sky.
Craving for wisdom in 
esoteric wells.
Chased squirrels with saws 
casting fanciful spells!

Detentions for antics 
the school's icy stare
Derided in classrooms 
a spirit too

The Grind

I must have wished a thousand times
that somehow we could live our lives
for something more.

And I can’t help but wonder why
we strive to keep so much in line,
what is it for?

Can’t you see we spend our time
building what we call “The Grind”,
finding ways to numb the pain it causes.
The blind leading the blind.

Can’t you see

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