Mundane Poems - Poems about Mundane

She is a flawed woman and her flaws aren't even poetic. She's just you and me, a woman who mistakes face for truth, and wears affection like yesterday's shirt. Lost, confused, occasionally lying— That's all she is: human. A human who fears loneliness, so she invites harm just to be seen. A human who can't stand her shallowness but when she thinks, discomfort...

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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...

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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....

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

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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 ...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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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Many days go by unchanged, Much the same as yesterday and tomorrow. My mind often wanders into fantasy; Might the Lottery throw my numbers~ Mansion with an great big garden, Margueritas in a tropical land? Meh! The dishes still must be done!...

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