Overused Poems | Examples

my unmatched love

love is an overused and time worn concept 
marriage is banal 
yet nothing about your love is threadbare
you are my evermore
you wear me thin but even the thinnest strings of my fate spell out your name
there is no sphere where waking up on your sore bicep takes a backseat in my thoughts 
you are not a part of my anatomy; you are it. 
my heart my soul my mind 
you own rent free space 


you eclipse my ambition 
nothing holds a candle to the love i’ve cultivated for you over these years 


you are a paradigm of the moment where i realise what your love does to me 
you make me a wreck and yet all it takes to fix me is you 
you are the poison and you are the antidote 
you are the totality of my thesis; you are the only thing i understand.

Hit the Sweet Spot, Sweetie

Ever so sweet
is kernel hub,
the power button,
so neat, tiny and mighty.

But the sweet spot
can sour with
too much power
to savor its glory.

For to score is fragile,
furtive and futile,
when a near miss,
catches the edge.

It's easily bruised,
easily abused,
easily overused,
overdone and missed.

The soft spot sweetie,
requires a gentle touch,
with panache, pizzazz,
flair and feeling.

Empirical upshot'

I must allow..I am deeply impacted by the demenour, the
Character" of Ink Empress." my expression i feel must be
Expressed.' Or I would view myself.' As a most uncouth
Inversion..' Of appreciation.? And of magnanimity..I would be without redress.'
The most un-sufferable of fools' should I not make note of her calm
And balance.' With great empathy.' Even much sincerity; she is
An epitome of the ' oft overused term' in how to be cool.'

Tuirse

I have been in unequaled turmoil,
Overused in my personal trauma,
Drowning in tear rivers of tragedy,
Soul dipping southward trajectory,
But they do not seep from these eyes,
Nor do they follow the cries,
Just the heavy emptiness that thrives,
Within each breath hope in me dies,
But then there are those who remind me,
Why I have walked the road of words ardently,
Thank you for reigniting my linguistic dream,
I want you to know, 
that you are the intrinsic thread that holds my spirit seem.

Two Hells

One day from this hell I’ll escape
To the hell of the lesser disgrace
I’m fed up with the country of apes
Imitating they are human race
Their antics are no more a fun
How the apes idolize alpha male
Is painful to watch, so I’ll run
There’s no reason to stay, no avail
However, the more decent hell
Is way too much overprotected
If you lack the most horrible bio to tell
Most likely, soon you’ll be directed
Back to where you come from, because
This superior hell is considered asylum 
For the millions of seekers, and those
Who slip through and police never finds them
Between these two hells there’s a space
With a runaway line to the skies 
There’s no promise if I get my place
But to find it I’ll pay any price
Though you can sneer: both hells
Is an overused, flat metaphor
Mate, I’m glad you can’t hear those bells
See, another one’s coming, and more.

Black holes stop their pull in fear

Hate hangs from me like a disintegrating cloak
It’s sickly oil tendrils trailing from me
It never gives passes
Eloquent in its misuse
Scratching its way through the sheerness. of the
slivers
Feeling so black that blue isn’t quite enough

Love drapes from me like a sculpted marble toga
It’s twirling twines exploding into fluff
It lives in the past and futures
Incoherently overused
It coddles in lessening touches of soft
Feeling the light before it lands

A Smile

A smile, a fake facade I wheel out each day
It hides behind a scripted rhyme, its words fade
Fumbling, incoherent, searching for a way
Each gentle line, created but never played
Help, allow me to discover, find a way 
A purpose, a reason to why I was made
But this performance will repeat and repeat
As my reflection hides, reluctant to meet

For laughter was a distant friend, overused
Each occasion I would request you to call
An invitation sent, politely refused
Now I wonder, was there meaning to it all
As tears escape, I am totally confused
Where you the result of my sudden downfall
Please don't portray me being this hopeless case
Because there is a fake smile upon my face

99

I am so popular in the grocery store
Ninety-nine cents
One ninety-nine
Two ninety-nine
Three ninety-nine
Four ninety-nine

Overused and underpaid if you ask me
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride
I do not quite make the grade
Can you imagine anyone saying
“How great the old lady lived to be ninety-nine?

They never say that!
They say “too bad she didn’t get to a hundred.”
A hundred sounds perfect.
Ninety-nine is a disappointment

I feel like a failure
Through no fault of my own
Not quite living up to my potential.
Who wants to invite ninety-nine to dance?
No one. They are all running to ask one hundred.

All Because

Welcome back, dear me
 let’s sip vintage wine and merry be 
awakening to  a radiant dusk exactly as is,
 caressed by sheer madness igniting
 a dance   a swing  with  a playful breeze 
and  to soak  in  evening’s tickled mist,
 as reaching out to others completely
 drains my core like an overused machine ;
my quality time lessened    slain by kindness... 

 Now, my days taste the cherry  of life
indulging in forsaken passions     leisures  denied…
Yes, it’s all because self-nourishment 
rings aloud:  buy that violet lipstick, 
paint the moon with enthralled eyes… throw a sinful dessert party  and  ride the carousel with complete abandon!

If Mom calls and neighbour Pam asks for extra help in her garden, I’ll wink gently—
Say no. For my heart is running empty,
It needs  to be fed with  jazz's tempo 
without the guilt trip. So, I’ll smile at my body
And leave all for a while, as real love begins 
with me, lifting this soul on the halo of fire--

Like

The most overused word is ( Like) 
Something I really dislike. 
The young generation 
Would lose communication
If it was erased overnight.

Nans Prolixity

Nan wrote many books, none were a hit.
People simply could not relate to any of it.
She has no life, no pets, no mate.
Excessive wordiness is her fate.

No life experience of any kind.
Her prolixity most readers vastly mind.
She knows her words, but no feeling there.
Thrown on a page like she does not care.

Readers like stories they understand.
Despising overused vocabulary words used by Nan.

I Miss My Freedom Most

Once there was a freedom
from passwords, logins, codes-
     a trust in you to be yourself -
       no cameras on the roads.

Once there was a personal choice
to smoke wherever you chose.
There was no violation-
          and no one cared to oppose.

Remember when the world was safe.
Night was like the day.
No curfews locked away your youth.
10 pm was a great hour to play.

The thing I miss is freedom
from proving who you are.
Constant identification-
         going much too far.

I must be able to greet someone 
at a plane gate face to face,
the days when public airports,
were a safe and happy place.

Does anyone remember when
the last time love was heard?
Yes, that is the time I miss-
     when love was an overused word.

I knew it was over

I knew it was over when I started waiting more,  
Talking to me became to you just like a mundane chore.

I knew it was over when your texts got shortened,  
Our fights became usual, and I kept feeling frightened.

I knew it was over when you found another choice,  
How happily you told me about his compliments twice.

I knew it was over when you started getting distant,  
I tried holding on the rope, but resistance was resistant.

I knew it was over when you began to disappear,  
The moment I feared was suddenly near.

I knew it when reassurances fell flat at times,  
Hollow words, redundant phrases, and overused rhymes.

I knew you were gone, even when you were very near,  
Presence means nothing without love, without care.

I knew it was over when your eyes lost their spark,  
The distance kept on growing, leaving its mark.

I knew it when with you, I felt so alone,  
I had said you Goodbye long before you were gone.

Muted Emotions

Maybe you’ll call
Today 
Maybe you won’t 

Deep down 
I don’t like the sound 
Of either 

If you do 
I’m a cracked 
Overused step stool 

For your ego 

Overflowing our conversations
With daydreams filling 
Our summer 

Just for you 
To leave each one 
At your doorstep 

As you shut off 
Your bedroom light 
Without saying a word 

But still expect me 
To be waiting there 
In the morning 

With no tears 
No questions 
Just happy to see you 

With that pleasant smile 
On my face 
You compliment but really overlook 

Just so my change 
Ends up in your 
Pockets 

Cause you spend yours 
On things that are 
killing your lungs slowly 

Or just leave 
Your eyes 
constantly bloodshot 

But if you don’t call
Embarrassingly I feel worse 
Than how you treat me

Ran it up the flagpole

               ‘Intimate gathering’
                  advertised
               Curiosity piqued...

                  poked my head in
               ~ cozy canoodling  



               __________________
               'Ran it up the flagpole'
               (to see if it would fly)
               was an overused ploy
               from the advertising 
               world of the 1950's 
               and 60's.

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