Idiom: No Love Lost Poem by Albert Ahearn

Love poems, how trite they become.
Their hackneyed themes we want to scream.
We purposely shy away from
That genre, teeming so it seems
With grandiloquent, large supplies
Of conjured words with empty rings
Of cheating hearts and love that dies.
Ad nauseam is all it brings.
We wish just once that we could read
Where love’s expressed differently:
Brand new verses that supersede
Love’s banal themes in poetry.
Love-lost poems are sickening
But most of all they are boring.