surreal poetry
Surrealist poetry embodies the essence of poetry itself, drawing upon shocking imagery and lyrical incongruities to comment on the inner-workings of the mind.
Wishful Sinking
Upside down, I fly with one foot attached to a metal hoop, violin under chin, I play, beginning again, soaring with fire beneath my wings.
Rowan FinleyPublished about a month ago in PoetsTo The Girls Who Don’t Give Second Chances
To the girls who don’t give second chances. The changes that come with heartbreak is like a simplistic give and take, the games he chooses to play leaving you disappointed time and time again and this is all when you’re still getting to know him, but you’re ignoring the red flags, hoping maybe this will work. The inconsistent game of his lies, the problem with his secret time, the sacred heart he claimed was mines, all the while sitting there lying. And you’re trying to figure out when should you go, do you need evidence that he doesn’t love you the way he should’ve shown. You fall in love with his mask then he does his daily tasks. You know the gym, his homies and back in your bed, his confirmation weakens your confidence and everything you thought you were isn’t it. The truth became reality he’s not the man you thought he was, he’s abusive and combative and worst part he’s using and abusing your trust. You claimed you never wanted to feel incomplete in love, a year goes by but you’re hoping he’s changed never really breaking up. To the girls who don’t give second chances, his first mistake was knowing that you deserved better then coming with the same games as Peter, John and Timothy. Too many times he’s left you feeling empty. I mean I get it, refusing to settle because of the games of some nigga. He proclaims you’re the girl of his dreams and for you he’ll do anything, yeah anything to you if you know what I mean. He keeps your pussy wet and your eyes, bacteria vaginosis and loud cries. PH balance all in discord and you pretended you didn’t know where it came from. I mean this man has got to be willing to do whatever for you but makes you act different. Then when you address the problems he claims you act different, but all three months ago he pretended like he didn’t show you any different. Claiming that he loves you like you wouldn’t notice the difference. Say you wanna leave but now he puts you in a position to start birthing his children, he’s knowing you’re willing all the while playing games and telling other women how he loves them disowning his children. To my women who don’t give second chances because they’re so loyal in the beginning. Teach your daughters don’t give second chances because he knows who you are in the beginning.
Charelle LandersPublished about a month ago in PoetsFool's Gold
I dreamt of you again Your hair was different, Ringlets no longer falling like chains of spun gold My itchy palms ached to wring it in my hands, To let fear and fury and fire work it into the shape it used to take
thriving and flourish
you see your name, not in lights but over-lined, blackbook listed the accused, the fickle, the trickster consort of those, undesireable
⸘jason alan‽Published about a month ago in PoetsEcho
I’m talking to you Telling you things I should be telling myself Lovely things about how great you are That you deserve to be loved
Atomic HistorianPublished about a month ago in PoetsTake a Seat
Please, do take a seat. There isn’t a beard to shave? There’s plenty to trim. What business is it of yours? A wall of confused mirrors.
James GreenPublished about a month ago in PoetsFabulous Fairytales
now that I’m old enough to read fairy tales again (CS Lewis) I’ll revisit the stories and practice pretend prepare my broken heart for the pledged happy end
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about a month ago in PoetsThe Darkness Inside
There's a darkness that lives inside of me, it lays behind my eyes, the pain won't set me free, I keep coming and going to the dark side, it's making me sick inside.
Robert RawsonPublished about a month ago in PoetsMirror Image
Who is this person in the mirror, it's not me, it couldn't possibly be! They are older, shorter and wear wrinkles where youth used to be.
Robert RawsonPublished about a month ago in PoetsContours of Creation
A canvas of silence blankets the valley, Mist clings to the hollows, a ghostly ally. Sunlight pierces through with golden spears,
Una SavagePublished about a month ago in PoetsWhen did you last see the bright sky...
When did you last see the bright sky? When did you last feel it's all a lie? These are the burdens I'd die for What is the sunset
ENTJ "The Energetic Leader"
With wit as sharp as rapier, tongue aflame, The ENTJ strides forth, a leader bold, Their vision keen, a future they proclaim,
Diorino GalvanoPublished about a month ago in Poets