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.
Looking For Madness
step into the abyss of being linger lost in the lust of unknown where meaning has lost its meaning roaming listlessly here, all alone
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 2 months ago in Poets- Top Story - March 2024
Love
I cast my cares and ascend into the heavens; Love awaits me there. As I trail the stars, the light of the sun illuminates my body, and I am reminded of hot summer days spent walking through sunlit meadows; listening intently to the voice of Love reverberate through the blaeds as each tendril softly caressed my ankles and gently brushed against my calves. This memory lenitively guides me through time and space.
Shipwreck
I lit the beacon Of the lighthouse Hoping you would Find your way Safely to my shores Through the rocky inlet To the warm
Elizabeth ArnoldPublished 2 months ago in PoetsBlowing Bubbles
Today I gave up The fight against gravity The ergs and the joules and the foot-pounds Were just so much fluff to me . I concaved into a labyrinth
Gerard DiLeoPublished 2 months ago in PoetsMy Madness Is a Room in My Mind
The one I try to keep the door closed on– locked and barred - to hold it at bay Sometimes nothing works and it springs open wide – a whirlwind - sweeping away
Bonnie BowermanPublished 2 months ago in PoetsFluffy Clouds of Filth
The sheep don’t speak here, They don’t even smile, One wagged its tail when I called - but then ran like the others, Shit spilling out its arse like wet breadcrumbs to the turf,
Gavin J InnesPublished 2 months ago in PoetsWant time to pause
want time to pause pause for a minute I just want time to pause for a minute to take my heavy breadth
Neetu JadonPublished 2 months ago in PoetsDerelict
Once, it brought us to life You lauded this renovation Hailed it “Our greatest accomplishment.” “Our True North”
Matthew FrommPublished 2 months ago in PoetsConch
I am layered in layers of laminated laden love, limply lingering beneath the landlocked clouds above. Peeling them back has proven to be painlessly painful,
I Breathe with My Skin
I Breathe with My Skin I want to take my bra off, these girls, they need to breathe. It’s not I’m anti-social, just many make me sneeze.
KJ AartilaPublished 2 months ago in PoetsRebirth
“You cannot keep me.” The torch lands on the aged home and burns all to ash.
Lindsay SfaraPublished 2 months ago in PoetsThe Mould
The mould of - inside - is not the - you see outside of - The - of me - me is the - me the me I - to be The mould of - inside me is the hidden me, that wants -
Paul StewartPublished 2 months ago in Poets