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Q Apr 2014
"I know it's cliche, but-"
You may stop right there
As, yes, cliches exist
And nobody cares
But life is cliche
We're all just living jokes
With stories told and lived
Since millennias ago.

Be as cliche as you wish,
You can't change what's done
And the way you express it
Or the need to tell someone
Wear your cliche with pride
Because, years before you, another did not
And it tore them inside
And now, in the earth, their body rots.

"I'm in so much pain, but none of it's physical
And god, that's so ******* cliche,"
But it's the only description you know
Your played out storyline's seen better days.
Because it's such a played out, worn out cliche
But it's unique because you hurt in your own way
And lord knows we're all dealing with the same thing
Living a cliche and fighting for something to change.

You smile, you laugh; you hurt, you cry
And I promise you another in the past
Laughed and cried at the exact same time
Right up until the day they died.
Because you may be something special
But don't ever think you're something new
You're life's been lived, been replayed
By hundreds, maybe thousands, before you.
So, yes, it's going to be a cliche.
Julie Grenness Aug 2015
Seduced by clichés of love,
We signed on for wedding doves,
Being at those wedding receptions,
All clichés of norms' conventions,
Having a cream puff wedding day,
An expensive way of getting laid,
All clichés for the bridal industry,
Trite cant, and hypocrisy,
BUT--the appliances outlived everyone!!
Wedding gifts when once were young,
On film noir weddings I ponder on,
As these golden years I wander from,
All that phony hypocrisy,
Cliches and norms of society,
D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
(Who didn't hate going to the in-laws for tea?)
I ponder on white weddings, norms, and cant.
Chalsey Wilder Jan 2015
You're so cliche
Telling me that I'm fat and ugly
Telling me no one would ever want me
Cliche cliche cliche
Tell me something I haven't heard yet
Oh
Go **** myself?
Starve myself?
Purge myself?
And mutilate myself?
People say these things everyday
I know these things
These words sound cruel but they don't mean anything
Nothing to me anyway
You're so cliche
Go read a book
And if you don't have one
I can give you a book on how to learn any day
You're so cliche if you think that's the worse you can say
Janine Tan Feb 2017
I know its a cliche to say how time flies when I'm with you
But I'll say it anyway
Two hours and thirty minutes
isn't enough talking with you

I know its a cliche to say I only see you
but I'll say it anyway
Men may try to flirt me but I'll say
No all the way

I know its a cliche to say your voice sounds like music to my ear
but I'll say it anyway
I can listen to you all day- no,
make it all night
and I swear, your laugh is the sweetest thing in the world

I know its cliche to say my heart skips a beat when I see you
But I'll say it any way
Why do you think I sleep so late honey?

I know its a cliche to say I'm having butterflies in my stomach
but I'll say it anyway
You flatter me like I'm Angelina Jolie
Or Megan Fox
As funny as it sounds, trust me when I say
I believe you

I know its a cliche to say only fools rush in
But I'll say it anyway
I think I like you Mister.
another poem! Yay!
Jessie Jun 2014
It is a growing issue
that the amount of metaphors
never used before by the hand of man
is decreasing significantly
and needs to be addressed soon
because the number of poets appearing
out of nowhere
is increasing exponentially
because we all want to
compare our love to the wind
forever competing
for self entitled originality
and instant gratification
until all we have left in this world
is cliche
after cliche
after cliche.
Where will we find ourselves
when we find out
all the words are taken?
Lauren Ostrander Sep 2016
We're not the cliche of a broken record stuck on the same one line.

We're not the cliche of a fourth grade arm cast signed by everybody and nobody you know.

We're not the cliche of a dandelion being blown to fragments by the wind before your lips ever got the chance.

My dad always told me that to be cliche would be the worst thing to happen in life.

But then he left me
and you did too,

so it's no surprise that we became the cliche of whiskey running down my throat because it burns less than your hands ever did.
Jonny Angel Apr 2015
Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.
Aaron LaLux Feb 2017
I Make Art,

and if you’re an artist too,
and you know the commitment to the Freedom,
that you give must be true,
see in order to get paid dues you must first pay dues,

I’m sorry,
I’m not sorry,
I’m rhyming again ‘cause I don’t know what else to do,

sounding cliche as fck,
I’m cliche as fck,
but it’s the best kind of cliche,
être bon mi amore let’s sail away,

who cares if the skies are grey,
who cares if the skies are blue,
not you we are a rainbow,
but a rainbow with more than 50 shades,

forget the reference,
or reference the reference,
I prefer to refer the next move to you,
pardon the indifference,
I’m numb from this business,
to the point where the only 1’s I trust are the Crew,

true true,

and who’s the Crew dude?

It’s an eclectic collection of artist,
who’s credit is way over due,

we paid dues and pay dues,
now their new News is our old News,
turning grey skies to blue through the emotions we do,
we’re hippy chic celebrities like that guy from The Trews,

shout out to Katy because I forgot her ex’s name,
respect to Katy for mastering the game,

an artist that worked to the pinnacle,
to trade Time & Money for Fortune and Fame,
and everything currently material is attained,
from currency accrued by acting atop the the Art Game,

top of the A,
the pinnacle the peak,
get it the top of the “A”,
now do you see?

See,

I Make Art,

and if you’re an artist too,
and you know the commitment to the Freedom,
that you give must be true,
see in order to get paid dues you must first pay dues,

I’m sorry,
I’m not sorry,
I’m rhyming again ‘cause I don’t know what else to do,

sounding cliche as fck,
I’m cliche as fck,
but it’s the best kind of cliche,
être bon mi amore let’s sail away,

who cares if the skies are grey,
who cares if the skies are blue,
not you we are a rainbow,
but a rainbow with more than 50 shades,

forget the reference,
or reference the reference,
I prefer to refer the next move to you,
pardon the indifference,
I’m numb from this business,
to the point where the only 1’s I trust are the Crew,

true true,

and who’s the Crew dude?

It’s an eclectic collection of artist,
who’s credit is way over due,

we paid dues and pay dues,
now their new News is our old News,
turning grey skies to blue through the emotions we do,
we’re hippy chic celebrities like that guy from The Trews,

shout out to Katy because I forgot her ex’s name,
respect to Katy for mastering the game,

an artist that worked to the pinnacle,
to trade Time & Money for Fortune and Fame,
and everything currently material is attained,
from currency accrued by acting atop the the Art Game,

top of the A,
the pinnacle the peak,
get it the top of the “A”,
now do you see?

See,

I Make Art.

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Abigail Night May 2018
My love,
Is it cliche to say
If i were to fall asleep
Wrapped up in your arms
I'd feel safe and loved.

Is it also cliche to say
That though
I don't believe in a god
But that would be
The greatest blessing i could pray for

My love,
I know its cliche but
Though we are miles
Upon miles apart  
And you aren't within sight
Youre in my heart

Oh love,
I sound so cliche
But i long for the day
My prayers are answered
Where youre holding me
And i'm holding your heart
SC Kelley Aug 2018
People write such cliche poems.

True love that goes on for lifetimes.

A gray city in the rain, colored only by the music of life.

Hot coffee entrenching the soul with warmth in the crisp autumn.

The perfect snowflake landing on the nose of his winter angel.

The smell of northern pines after a heavy storm.

Her unparalleled footprints in the sand with each angelic step.

Tailgate stargazing on an ideal summer night, hands intertwined.

But isn't that what poetry is all about?

The most heartfelt descriptions about the broadest of beautiful moments?

~S.C. Kelley
For those who write, feel, and everything else
raingirlpoet Oct 2014
i am a walking cliche
teenage girl
depressed
rarely smiles
long sleeves to cover my wrists
i have a secret
-roll of eyes-
don't we all...
i wear toms in the spring and
chuck taylors in the fall
my shoes match my moods
when the sun shines brightly and i'm wearing dresses for days
i'm weightless
and then the sun sets and the trees rattle fiercely in the wind and my shoes,
they bind my feet to the ground
i crawl into my hole and start piling on sweaters and blankets it's dark
i'm alone
the sun won't rise for another 6 months
until then i'll shuffle around until i can find the nearest exit
i'm a walking cliche
norris rolle Feb 2011
Almost everything we say
Seems to be a bit cliche'
Like practise makes perfect all the time
And out of sight, out of mind
Too many cooks spoil the brew
And what you do to others comes back to you.
Nobody likes a cry baby
No ifs, ands, buts or maybes.
These are just a few cliche's,
And here's some others we all say:
God bless the child who has his own.
No place like home sweet home.
He that fights and runs away
Lives to fight another day
What goes up must come down
What goes around comes around
Give me liberty, or give me death.
And you aint seen nothing yet.
The harder they come,the harder they fall
Keep your eyes on the ball
A small axe cut down big trees
And the best things in life are free
I could just go on and on
Probably until early morn
But I think my point is made
That our words are all cliche's
By:Norris Rolle
Tom Leveille May 2014
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
Kagami Nov 2014
I thought to myself,
"I will think about my life."
Love was a cliche.
1

You said 'The world is going back to Paganism'.
Oh bright Vision! I saw our dynasty in the bar of the House
Spill from their tumblers a libation to the Erinyes,
And Leavis with Lord Russell wreathed in flowers, heralded with flutes,
Leading white bulls to the cathedral of the solemn Muses
To pay where due the glory of their latest theorem.
Hestia's fire in every flat, rekindled, burned before
The Lardergods. Unmarried daughters with obedient hands
Tended it By the hearth the white-armd venerable mother
Domum servabat, lanam faciebat. at the hour
Of sacrifice their brothers came, silent, corrected, grave
Before their elders; on their downy cheeks easily the blush
Arose (it is the mark of freemen's children) as they trooped,
Gleaming with oil, demurely home from the palaestra or the dance.
Walk carefully, do not wake the envy of the happy gods,
Shun Hubris. The middle of the road, the middle sort of men,
Are best. Aidos surpasses gold. Reverence for the aged
Is wholesome as seasonable rain, and for a man to die
Defending the city in battle is a harmonious thing.
Thus with magistral hand the Puritan Sophrosune
Cooled and schooled and tempered our uneasy motions;
Heathendom came again, the circumspection and the holy fears ...
You said it. Did you mean it? Oh inordinate liar, stop.

2

Or did you mean another kind of heathenry?
Think, then, that under heaven-roof the little disc of the earth,
Fortified Midgard, lies encircled by the ravening Worm.
Over its icy bastions faces of giant and troll
Look in, ready to invade it. The Wolf, admittedly, is bound;
But the bond wil1 break, the Beast run free. The weary gods,
Scarred with old wounds the one-eyed Odin, Tyr who has lost a hand,
Will limp to their stations for the Last defence. Make it your hope
To be counted worthy on that day to stand beside them;
For the end of man is to partake of their defeat and die
His second, final death in good company. The stupid, strong
Unteachable monsters are certain to be victorious at last,
And every man of decent blood is on the losing side.
Take as your model the tall women with yellow hair in plaits
Who walked back into burning houses to die with men,
Or him who as the death spear entered into his vitals
Made critical comments on its workmanship and aim.
Are these the Pagans you spoke of? Know your betters and crouch, dogs;
You that have Vichy water in your veins and worship the event
Your goddess History (whom your fathers called the strumpet Fortune).
Allen Wilbert Dec 2013
Cliche

Life ***** then you die,
try and laugh, no need to cry.
Everyday is a new beginning,
can't keep my head from spinning.
Life's a journey, not a destination,
waiting for my train at the local station.
Same ole ****, different day,
always do things your own way.
Don't you hate when that happens,
food on face, with no napkins.
Try walking in someone else's shoes,
it doesn't really matter who's.
Don't worry, be happy,
no need to be snappy.
Always do as your told,
that cliche is getting old.
Another day, another dollar,
midgets are people too, just smaller.
Don't bite the hand that feeds you,
unless of course it's filled with poo.
You can't always get what you want,
but when you do, always flaunt.
Every rose has its thorn,
why does **** look like corn.
Find the light at the end of the tunnel,
I badly want a mistletoe belt buckle.
Don't know what you got, till it's gone,
if you got brains, you don't need brawn.
Love will find a way,
I once heard a band say.
Fame is only fifteen minutes long,
where you're at, is where you belong.
Friends come and friends go,
but it's family, you will always watch grow.
There is always a mountain, you must climb,
everyone will commit at least one crime.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it,
if you have a son, buy him a baseball mitt.
Only believe in what you see,
bad things always happen in three.
Don't always believe what you hear or read,
red blood, is what we all bleed.
Knock, knock who's there,
before you open, please beware.
Knick, knack, paddy, whack,
all girls love a good *** smack.
Money don't grow on trees,
in life there are no guarantees.
Tom Leveille Sep 2014
i love you this morning
it's a come home safe morning
fog on the road
& no seatbelt kind of morning
the sun is over easy
& nothing's on fire
there's punctuation
where i don't want it
and extra love
in the glovebox of my car
been thinking about being honest
how these poems are all me
but they tell the story
how someone else
might believe it happened
within reasonable doubt
no copy & pasted love letters
no 'who ever says hello first gets my attention for the day'
try a little tenderness
in my ears and today
there are instruments
in the back of my head
i think you love me
because i'm sunburned
felt it in a 'come hell or high water' kinda way, that 'touched from far away' kinda way that 'if i touch this piano one more time one of us is going to break' kinda way
and i drove over 17 bridges yesterday and today i'll do it again
and i think nobody gets
what that means except maybe you
i just tell them i love the scenery
that somebody must've made
these trees blush just for me
you know how i love
to change the subject
i bet they'd love the view
i bet you would too
and all these metaphors
for other things are beside the point
this is a metaphor
for why i don't wear my seatbelt
a metaphor for why whiskey
knows me better than you
could ever try to
all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars
are doing that cliche thing
where they talk
quiet jet noise
& some lumbering giant
made everything shake
not those hand metaphors
not another one of those
& keep the sea to yourself
i think it was a train
it's sound hugged the embankment
for a moment
and then trailed off into nowhere
and that's kind of like me
how there's a town called 'rescue'
close to my home &
it's no coincidence
that i've never been there
Lauren Ehrler May 2016
Summer dreams,
cast away.
Darkness now,
here to stay
cliche
cliche
cliche
cliche

Dreams are untrue
Darkness rules
Summer is an escape
Fleeting like fate
Chelsea Brooks Apr 2017
there's endless poems of broken hearts and broken dreams
there's endless stories of what could've been

I think about what we were
and how I become a part of the cliche in which I am another woman
broken down like a little girl
because of the infidelities that I thought would stop because you said you love me
I have realized that love has become an excuse
to hurt others and for others to accept it

I accepted your lies
time and time again

now I am another cliche

broken by the relationship you let fall to pieces
Kara Ashley Jan 2015
Beauty doesn't mean
Pretty eyes
Gettin all the guys
Clear skin
Stick thin
Everyone.
Everything..
Has beauty
Beauty is skin deep
The phrase is so cliche, yet so true
Ignored by the ones who need it
Beautiful soul
Beautiful heart
Beautiful personality
That is the beauty in us
God sees our true beauty, even if it's hidden from the world
You can go through with a false understanding of the word,
Or...
You can choose to see the beauty that God has put into each and every one of our lives.
The beauty of potential
Beauty is a choice
Not a fact.
oui Dec 2014
oh my darling!
you make my head spin ever so wildly
drown me in wine
yell that you love me!
as i trace a master piece on your back with my fragile fingers

and they'll call us both mad
the lovers that danced until their feet crumbled
( though you claim you cannot dance )
as we will disregard them all, humanity, and however cliche our midnight rambles may become
Words are just tools, or things to be used
they can make sense of the world, or leave you confused.
Love's just a word, so's beauty, perfection;
they once conveyed meaning of undying affection
but they're now overused, and so seem cliche
what good are words she won't believe anyway?
But say them I shall, just to let her know
that for me love means the same as it did long ago.
Rj Feb 2015
I hate to be cheesy or cliche
But...
Torak Jun 2014
We were a walking cliche,
unoriginal straight from the desires of beauty
to evolve into prosperity
that was doomed from the start.

I went from this awkward mystery,
to a playful, loving,spontaneous boy
that just so happened to say things that at the moment
sounded beautiful,
but beauty isn't always a dull blade and it can
still cut for years on end.

It started with the first letter.
written on a Walgreens card,
and it soon turned to Eskimo kisses, and we'd cuddle,
until it was too hot and sweaty,
and I would write notes, and underline in my favorite novels,
then I'd give them to her to read.
I was never comfortable enough
to eat in front of her because the butterflies
she gave me, filled my stomach.
And when she kissed me,
it often felt like her lips ****** the air out of my lungs,
or punched me in the rib cage, and
I couldn't tell the difference because both would leave me breathless
and in pain.
I'd talk to her in different voices, like
Batman or Count Dracula,
and I'd tickle her and then we'd play fight,
and it was so cliche but I loved it,
and I told myself from the start not to get attached to her,
and I didn't for the longest time,
until one day she looked at me and I knew I had ****** up and
I couldn't just detach myself because sewing yourself
to someone isn't that simple.

****, that was long and unnecessary.

The moral of the story  is,
it was all cliche which made it that much easier
to fall for.
Hannah Christina Jun 2018
Because a thing may seem cliche won't mean it isn't right.
Warm sunbeams, drumbeat thunder, and the clash of dark and light.
Or just because it's overused, don't say it can't be true.
Old words and phrases well describe my burning love for you.
for leather accrues
The miracle of the streets
The scents & smogs &
pollens of existence

Shiny blackness
so totally naked she was
Totally un-hung-up

We looked around
lights now on
Top see our fellow travellers
~~~

I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes

I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply

The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain

And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain
~~~

She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
just out of reach
A candle stranded on
a beach
While the sun sinks low
an H-bomb in reverse
~~~

Everything human
is leaving
her face

Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass

Stay!

My Wild Love!
~~~

I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It’s no fun
To feel like a fool-when your
baby’s gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I’ve done nothing w/time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing
w/Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I’m bold-
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass sliding door (why can’t I
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain- dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down- & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?
~~~

In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you’re not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
’til the dogs rush out
I’m going South!
AntRedundAnt Jan 2014
love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   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relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking
I uploaded all of my past work onto the site already, so everything from here on out will be new and original. This is sort of an experimental idea of mine: take all the words hellopoetry has tracked for me, put it down as if it were a poem, and see how it flows. It actually kind of works sometimes, but I'm not sure. I'm sure it's mostly terrible, but I wanted to try it. Let me know what you think in the comments below!
Amber S Jul 2013
darling, i know i write too much about you.
(at least 100 poems, at least 50 flash fictions)

and every line is too cliche, every word is
unoriginal.

but it’s the way your vein surges with sparks
as you infiltrate me.

it’s the way your stubble paints me pink and red
each morning.

it’s the way you whisper you love me as we
nuzzle in our dew.

my writing has been nothing but you these past
two and a half years,
and it will be nothing but you for
years and years (and years) to come.

(whether it’s cliche or not)
She said those words
'Let's be friends'
If I never hear
those ******* words again
I swear to God
it would be too soon
Comical words
invoking cartoon
characters that are
kooky and dumb
Because that's where
these filthy words are from

You must take me for a wide-eyed naive
Or an escapee of the mentally insane
ward of a prison or "hospital"
or whatever politically correct term it's called

You can take your friendship
and shove it up your ***
I know,
I'm sorry
Such a statement has no class
It's crass
But I don't give a ****
I'm angry right now
For a moment
I had hope
You got back in somehow

I built such sturdy walls
grand and tall
Made you stand outside
Press that intercom button to call
Kept you at a distance
But time turns scar tissue dull
You smiled and you waited
Baited me into a lull

We'd hang and talk
You'd smile and laugh
Hours upon hours
the time would pass
So comfortable; So easy
Something others don't have
Thoughts and dreams start again
But Nope,
Sorry! Too bad!

A forgotten feeling
Also an ember burning deep
High hopes birth expectations
That you did not want to meet
'It's just complicated right now'
Some ******* that you say
Oh! Okay! That makes everything better now
Hip-hip-hooray!

You were just being honest
Saying how you felt
It was me with the problem
A hand of cards that were self dealt
All the work I had done
The counseling and the meds
Heart-to-heart talks
Many books I have read
Feeling so confident
but overconfident I was
Unaware of the noise
A teeth shattering buzz
Blindly I stood
with the answers there for me
Head in the sand
Look away; don't want to see

'Only fools love'
you said to me once
Thought I knew what you meant
Had an inkling or a hunch
But not a ******* clue
is the sad, sad truth
Your forked-tongue spit it's venom
Words used to sooth

Mask after mask
you pulled from your face
Never the truth
Confused in a daze
You grasped with tentacles
Ensnared with your web
Lies are your candy
I was endlessly fed

My mind a toy
Not anything more
My heart for your consumption
***** kept in a drawer
Rip me apart
Please tear me down
Your never-ending heartache
I'll choke in and drown

Under your foot
Under your thumb
An insect; A maggot
Piece of dirt; Lowly ****
What am I now?
What have I become?
What was I to begin with?
A child on the run
Running with fear
You made my heart run
Mouth running had your ear
My torture was your fun

Should I call you a '*****'?
Smear your name? Shout out '*****!'
Would that equal out the playing field?
Somehow even the score?
Playing games, put on pause
Maybe save for later
But there's no saving this time
Tend each need; I am your waiter
Forever I'll wait
so endlessly I am waiting
Madly love you
Yet for me, I am hating

Thunderous booms
The sky streaked with light in veins
War is raging all around us
and in the balance we remain
Here I remain
even though there's no balance
Must be insane
Have me committed to this mess

You are a jigsaw puzzle
with half completed pieces in my mind
The rest of it a jumble
The other pieces I can't find
The nervous dog who is confused
I follow your commands
Unfulfilled, I'm simply used
Didn't go the way I planned

Now to me you speak
as you tell me so much more
of the textbook cliche nonsense
Told a million times before
You feign heartfelt sincerity,
interest and concern
Who you care for is a short list
It's as if I'll never learn

There was a version that before
was living at one time I think
But nothing in this life is free
As rain pours down, in mud we sink
So proudly I strut and adorn
my stunning hand-made concrete shoes
The complimentary attire
fitting all the bad I choose

Now frozen here
as I am kept
unkempt in this very dark place
Place marker for my maker
Marks
Without a mark
An unmarked
grave
Written: March 8, 2018

All rights reserved
Cara Dec 2015
I wish I could ariculate,
but it has all been written before.
And yet here I am still dreaming of the ineffable, the inexplicable, the as yet udetermined.

Oh to be a cliche,
idealising times of the past
while th present grows bleaker.

Things lack beauty.
The beauy I find in books and films, are lies when it comes to my reality.
And the arduous task of going on feels like a puzzle impossible to solve but one I cannot leave alone.
Things lack beauty,
for me.

Life lacks the luster I have been shown previously existed,
and by romantising the previous, I only pull myself furthe away from the beauty I know must be here.
It must.
Must't it?

However the rare specks of it I find are the ones in her eyes.
And they parade themselves infront of me, knowingly.

But such things have been written before and will be wrote again.
And yet still I wish to articulate.

Oh to be a cliche.
i don't know what this is
Alex Fern Jan 2015
It is possible to go into detail forever about anything
It makes poems that are about everything seem so dull
No human could possibly comprehend every single thing at once
Categories maybe
But a fully relatable and tangible poem has to be specific
I can talk about metaphors
How something is something else
How life is dull
How nothing quite is the way it should be
I could write about how deceiving everything is
How death could or could not be mysterious
Poetry is art
Art should change, develop, and turn into new forms
Art is poetry
I will be my own artist
I will speak as though i am god
I am god
I will list my flaws to protect myself from the judgment of readers
I want to make art until I die
I want you to read every single word that comes to my head
I am cliche
I know I’m cliche
I want you to appreciate me as much as I appreciate me
I want to talk to you like a lover
You are art
You are a poem
You are so specific
You are me and I love you
Tabitha Sullivan Sep 2013
So Cliche we say

We say we’re meant to be

Together forever

So cliche

We’re an on again off again couple

Torn apart by the distance

Brought back together by our love

We make promises on top of promises

I wonder how many we’re going to break

One step forward always feels like ten steps back

Forcing a smile when you ask if I’m alright

Never confessing my fears

Baby names and wedding plans

We think we have it all figured out

Dreams of our beautiful unborn daughter

Makes it impossible to let you go

I want our fairy tale life

Just not sure how to make it work

Scared to give up what I have

For the chance to be with you

A lot can change in a year

What if too much changes
Katy Laurel Sep 2013
Grasp roots you've always had,
the ones self made,
and eternally contain.
Never let insecurity get in your way.

Remember,
embrace yo snake
let your gold permeate
all things you care to create.
Stick to your few traits,
don't do too many drugs man made,
dance in the cliche fingers of rain,
sing with blood to release pain.

Listen with your heart,
review with your brain,
never filter vulnerable art,
know the best isnt always sane.
Allow the moon to light your dark,
absorb the motion of waves.

Baby, this is it,
the beauty of self acceptance.


Author: Unknown,
cause these things I write down might be me,
but also just some soul speaking through my wings.
Alyssa Yu Jul 2013
Most people would say that it's cliche
To write a poem about fireworks
On the Fourth of July

It is too
Trite
Overused
Common.
It is unoriginal.

But there is nothing cliche about wonder and awe and magic
Nothing trite about a vast array of colors that you never even knew existed
Nothing overused about the feeling of exhilaration as you eagerly await the next supernova
Nothing common about lights so spectacular even thunder has to hold its breath.

And if it is unoriginal
Then I really don't think I care
After all
Just because something is beautiful
Doesn't mean that it has to be rare.
Hoping to start a series on "cliches" for holidays.
Leah Rae Dec 2012
I Decided That I'm Going To Write A Love Poem About You.*

Something I've Been Battling With For A Long Time, Like A Empty War In My Chest.
I'm Not Sure Who Brought The Trojan Horse Into My Heart And Defiled Me From The Inside Out,

But I Know That I've Decided On The Final Solution..

Some Nuclear Weaponry To End This Once And For All.

I Had This Idea In My Head That Writing A Love Poem About You Would Somehow Make Me Less Of A Poet. Instead Two Quarters Sell-Out, One Half Wannabe, One Seventh Cop-Out, And Now You're Probably Laughing At Me Because There Is No Way That Adds Up To One Whole Of Anything.

But This Is What You've Made Me Into.

We Used To Make Fun of The Girls With Their Boyfriend's Name Tattooed Across Their Collarbones, But Now I'm Sketching Out Your Initials On The Cover Of Every One Of My Notebooks, Wishing It Was My Skin.

And When I Can't Answer The Next Question In Class Because Of You, I Can't Help But Laugh, Because Suddenly I'm The Ridiculous One Now.

And That Makes Me Love You Like I Love Concerts. Being Smashed Against Seven Hundred Screaming Bodies, To Get A Glimpse At The Heartbroken Hero Who Is Singing Just For Me. The Next Morning, Every Single Part Of My Body Is On Fire, And I'd Tell Myself It Was Somehow All Worth It.

Because You See, You're  Somehow All Worth It.

Worth Being Called Every Single Cliche I've Been Battling.

I Pledged When I Was Twelve Years Old That I Would Never Cry Over A Boy. But I've Shed More Tears Between Us Then I'm Capable Of Counting. And Even Openly In Front Of You, Which Is Something I've Never Been Very Good At.

And I've Written Apologies Letters To The Both Of Us, For Not Being Everything I Could Be.

And You've Made Me Want To Make A List Of Our Every Occurrence, July Seventh, 2010,  August 14th 7:53pm, January 19th, October 29th 3:14pm, March 10th, Like A Date Book Of Every Important Moment Because I'm Afraid I Might File Them Away In The Back Of My Mind

And Then Forget Where I Put Them.  

And By Now You've Probably Noticed That I Haven't Been Able To Stick With One Single Metaphor During This Entire Poem And I'm Several Shades Of Scarlet, Because Somehow You Make It Impossible To Be Anything Except A Mess.

And That's Coming From The Girl Who Color Coordinates Her Underwear Drawer.*

You've Also Probably Noticed That My Usual Over Emotional, Polished And Perfect Poetry Of Pretty Words Has Completely Gone Missing In This Piece. And Instead All I'm Left With Is This Awkward Imagery Of Something Much Less Honorable Then What I'm Usually Referencing.

But Somehow I'm Still Smiling.

And I've Been Wearing My Heart On My Sleeve For So Long Now That I Can't Remember What Part Of My Body It Belongs In Anymore. I've Been Listening To Your Voice On Repeat So Often That It Has Became My Soundtrack.

I've Decided To Give My Empty Parts, My Fingertips, My Shoulder Blades To You As Gifts, Make-Shift Wrapped In Newspaper, Because I Didn't Have Anything Else Left.

You Took Them As Yours
Took Me As Yours

Now I Spend Every Night Connecting The Constellations In The Spackle Patterns Of The Ceiling Above My Bed, Wondering What Stars You're Staring At.

And Suddenly This Love Poem Doesn't Feel So Terrifying Anymore.

Because You've Scared Away The Sorrow, Put Hello-Kitty Band-Aids On All My Old Scars.
You Make Me Want To Make You Chocolate Chip Pancakes In Bed And, And, Read Shakespeare For Fun!
Because If I'm Sally, Then You're Jack, Rodger To My Mimi, Princess Buttercup And Wesley, Hermione Granger And Ron Weasley, Allie And Noah..

And Now I'm Rambling.

And You're Probably Smiling Again.

What I'm Trying To Say Is That I Want You To Know That I Will Spend The Rest Of The Forever You Give Me Listening To Your Voice.

Singing In The Shower, Humming In The Back Of My Mind, Whispering It To Me Late At Night, All Those Songs Of Longing.

I'll Lay Wide Awake And Listen, Repeating It Myself How Incredibly Deep You Are.

So Deep I Could Throw Myself Into You And Drown Inside You, Before I Ever Have The Chance To Come Up For Air.

And That Aching In My Chest Would Somehow Make Me Feel Like I Was Finally Home.
CP May 2014
I look at myself and all I see is grey
I try so hard to pray it away
I know it's cliche
But I can't stand my own face

It's sad eyes
They see through my lies
My oversized thighs
My failure to revise
I despite this disguise

I look at myself and all I see is disappointment
Try harder I mumbled in exhaustion
What a collision
My own derision

One day, soon, I will look at myself and all I will see is joy
My reflection, I will enjoy not want to destroy
I will not be coy
As the sun dawns
All will be gone I vowed

I look at myself today and all I see is hope
For I am proud
I want to scream it loud in crowd
I am proud of me and you
And with that statement I feel so new.
Aditi Apr 2015
Would it be a cliché
If I say
the element
Of my nightmares
Is mostly her in your arms

Would it be a cliche
If I tell
You made a house
In my thoughts,
A permanent occupant.

Would it be a cliche
If I admit
The first light of day
Seems so heavy on my brows,
Without having you to wake up to.

Would it be a cliché
If I confess
You are the only one I can write about,
My words have a way of evolving
Themselves around you

Would it be a cliche
If my heart aches
At the way you say her name
You voice so gentle, barely concealing
The longings you have.

Would it be a cliche
If I say
The main element
Of my nightmares
Is her in your arms
I have not slept in two days

— The End —