Open your ears and mind, before you open your eyes ' Be informed of humanitys dis-guise..As the Greeks
Gave gifts to Troy, you will notice the
Same old hackneyed ploys, food parcels
To the dissposessed, bulk bought could
Cost? ten to fifteen dollars, certainly no
Less.. Yet the mirrorless action of giving
Billions, to fund wars destruction its in
The trillions.' Of course no bankers would
Be involved in such, or non profit orgs..'
Now should that read organ-isations.? I
Wonder much.? Yet should i not wonder?
Just bow my head, hunch shoulders and
Shrug.? With no-thing said.? Untill I am in
Truth; null and void' quite dead.!
I need a cliche like a hole in the head
Hackneyed comments make me wish I was dead
I hang onto sanity by a mere thread
If I hear one more I’ll go off my head.
It would be better to say nothing at all
People’s trite comments never fail to appall
Go on use a cliche if you have the gall
But say one near me and I’ll have your balls.
Myopic muddle
as beauty swirls
hues of heaven
yet bypasses
static statues that
pose as sentient
beings beknighted
dawn’s divine dream
seen as bland mirror
on ebbing eyewash
cathartic colour is
a universal uplift
even for low level
lustrous earth dweller
Immersed in skewed slant
I bandy icicled retort
as though taut timing
ever swayed rigid
stone age postures
elysian echo a speck
in azurite caves
to auditory aloofness
allied to blinkered
whim ‘s wanton
plight with dull
and dim twist
dispersed among
trivial terrains
alienation personified
vessel vacuous and void
rehabilitation of
the wayward faculty
a burst balloon blip
outsider ostracised
from gilded gardens
and sumptuous bloom
of ripe recrudescence
still limp laggard
on hackneyed cue
might yet stumble on
the fig of wakening
Hannah’s handiwork heartily hailed in on Halloween
hackneyed and haggard, but not easily seen
Her hagridden hawk hovered over his holistic queen
Half-witted husband was as fresh as grass is green
Happy-go-lucky hag’s horrific hallucinations were keen
Haphazard hardships harmonized with her cousin Jean
Hannah’s harebrained ideas could easily turn mean
potential for hurried hasty nastiness on this Halloween
Still suggesting there is a place for some cricketing rhymes in these Testing times?
In the land of lengthy cumulus curiosity amazed by the velocity of the atrocity
The crazed ferocity of ghoulish foolish monstrosity which blazed across the ditch
Where Off his Head did bewitch on the pitch so quick slick should've got a stitch
For what it's worth pithier levity aptly sums up the rum girth of the mirth of Perth
Travis’s temerity, depravity of sporting gravity, severity of brevity of Ashes rebirth
No devil may care, hoping us coping rightful heir not moping at the Gabba, repair
Dare to dream in Aussies’ despair lair ending their frightful mind bending nightmare
Cheers to elite broadsheet peers who it appears our fears, sneers, jeers & nadirs share
Ignore more hackneyed score from seedier bottom feeder media on tour, Go All Square!
I know, love, what we're here for
We both are destined to forever
Looks like a hackneyed metaphor
But one can try to put it better
Mix the reality with dreams
Like, for example, I can do
Not sure though, if I have seen
All dreams, there’s always something new
Missed or forgotten in a hurry
But as I enter my love’s room
The picture dims, the dream gets blurry
Enhanced into the evening gloom
And I get lost, and strip away
Back to the real world I know
Outside’s another damp gray day
What is inside, seems hard to show.
Let’s be clear! “AI” is plagiarism --
all grammar checkers, any writing aid,
major editing program, can be a form of
plagiarism...laziness at the least in my
humble opinion. Someone who writes
a biographical outline, a story outline
of any kind, and then hires a ghost writer,
or major team of professional editors, to
bring about the final, flawless product,
because the original was so sloppy or
hackneyed, is not the writer-originator
as I see it. Agreed! There are
no entirely original thoughts, for each of
us stands on the shoulders of the many
tall and talented thinkers, richly endowed
innovators who came before us – what we
owe them, and our chosen craft of relatively Free
Expression, is to try and maintain a posture
pure as possible when attempting to create.
Approach authorship as a Mystical exercise --
As a personal lover. A rapport with God.
Moth-eaten hag was a big battle-ax biddy
A hackneyed hag who wandered New York City
Grandam of the alley, a smelly aged fish wife
Aren’t you glad you did not have her kind of life?
Don’t be so hasty to judge, said my friend.
She had cats and companions to the very end.
The homeless took care of her, they loved her too.
Who is going to do the boo-hooing for you?
Poetry time
Every line chimes
Stop on a dime
A buck for a rhyme
What’s a meta for
Similes are, like, a bore
A terzanelle’s attractive
Tho a villanelle’s more proactive
Witches vex trochaic pentameter
Curse iambic HEXameter
Traditionalists eschew free verse
Blank verse is that much worse…
Romance, a hackneyed chore
While humor is adored
Satire rates high too
Tear-jerkers ~ boo-hoo
Poetry time
Elbow grease and grime
Lines sparkle and shine
Craftsmanship sublime
My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun
I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run
Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one
When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed
Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
.
.
Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John
Webster: hackneyed = uninteresting, unfun, dull and unoriginal.
*stolen almost directly, in spirit anyway, from that freewheeling rebel, Johnny Cash
**My first 8 years of school were parochial
Its wet and drear in London dear, the pomp in on full trope
Though hope is gone, not dead for Jesus is the only hope!
Its foolish to trust in others; dopes.' In robes and words
In fear and force, its hackneyed ethos, solid dross of course
One hundred mill, so bums can sit.' and ears listen to
Waffle and some titter, and scraps and traps such slippery
Tounges we'll no doubt hear, yet will we sum? A throne of
Gold in a nation sold, to the w e f, just same old same old.'
The crowds are thin, not much the din' dis-enchantment is
Setting in.' geriatrics in phylactics gather and throng how
Can such traversitys continue on? Food in piles is stored
Away, as childen are hungered, its the British way.' Some
Vassels also, it seems agree although; their people need
To be set free.! Free to thrive to grow and prosper, yet to no
Reason i now return, to the parody of vanitys and a useless
Crown ' thats just the head though, i'll make this clear on
A British day of pomp and drear, might he take a little trip?
Before the throne..As ascends he it.' Twould be indicative of
The wider nation, that needs a real King not this Abberation.'
Poetry, You are Illumination!
Not the point of descent
but the ascending apex of
God's triangles – you come to
me, a bride...after the dutiful converse,
you come to me, dear wondrous composition~
wearing your verbal gown of transparent
white:
Why do I write? And why breathe, make
love? The in and out of creation somehow
such death and resurrection becomes us
both, the draw of life despite the often
editing crosses –
We are best when up against the wall...
that writer's block, that impasse, that
paralysis!~ poetry my sledge and saw,
the reason for eyes and hands, power
to transcend vision into new horizons
however they defame you, my lyrical
rib: abuse you with singsong cords
and hackneyed personifications, even
the erudite who only basically attend
to me you are nearer perfection...
Always, a divine lover and friend!
You will never fit in! is my everyday alarm .
My emotions so hackneyed to that venom
That like water off a duck's back has no effect.
Hide away they tell me, because we cannot bare to look at you
The dark has become my companion, the citadel of refuge to whom I can always flee so that I'm invisible to many.
Wherever I am, I try so much to be the ghost,
Unnoticed and invisible.
Because if I am noticed I know that like a thousand arrows the words will stab me to death
Before I realise it.
They say I love the mirror
but that is not the case
I am trying to identify, to spot,
To analyze what you say is wrong with me.
What you tease me of!
But sadly I cannot seem to find it
I shall not cease to look in the mirror
Maybe one day I shall see it too
But for now I AM BEAUTIFUL THE WAY I AM.
Cookie cutter words so
carefully cut and pasted
on me are simply wasted.
Their relevance defunct
so silent deaf and mute
someone else’s route.
This romances brevity
couldn’t even warrant
a freshly cut torrent.
Thoughts on you only
today are freshly writ
not from another’s skit.
Your cycle oft repeated
new color same game
please shame and blame.
Faded far from view
a barren desolate land
this love’s final stand.
Pain is public domain
burn your copyright
cliché it into firelight.
Blank page tattered torn
crumpled piss-stained
empty promises drained.
Program pre-recorded
tired hackneyed phrases
sung too long the praises.
“the lady doth protest
too much” said Hamlet
then she knew her fear
just ask Shakespeare.
(click on the pic to buy my poetry book!)
A hackneyed love,
now I know,
my heart's a treasure,
I say no more.
your eyes on the chequebook
like ice on a cake,
none you give but loads you take,
Dear you made it look grotesque.
act like a fool I did,
to please your evil deeds,
or more like sweating and bleeding,
a prisoner to your biddings.
you could have said at least
that inside you were a beast,
an argument without closed fists
is not a thing on your list.
using torture as a weapon,
to use my heart as a coupon,
because you knew all the loopholes,
to steal my love was your call.
although true love never dies,
this one was killed by your lies,
it's wise to say enough,
a hackneyed love.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.