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.
The Morning Of February 29th
On the cusp of "The Great Escape", I sense a coming dawning, Of paradigm precedent, and slingshot de-loaded; Not for the first time,
Year After Year
We spent so many nights crawling towards. Never stayed in moments and didn't hear the birds, Hair went from black to white,
Sayaam HarzPublished 2 months ago in Poetsand another thing
i remembered walking in straight lines invested and loyal to the course the rest of one life left to feel alive determined with fairly good intention
⸘jason alan‽Published 2 months ago in PoetsOn Top Of The World
The brilliant golden sun danced through the clouds, My heart fluttered like a million delicate butterflies fluttering inside of me;
Carol TownendPublished 2 months ago in PoetsDaguerreotypes
A mountain seems to float above The temperatures that ripple Earth below it Layers give the senses a shove You're being crippled and you know it
Gerard DiLeoPublished 2 months ago in PoetsMy Death Is Riding High
My death is riding high on five clear clouds It isn’t high enough but it’s stable I feel enveloped in blue-and-white shrouds
Patrick M. OhanaPublished 2 months ago in PoetsRed velvet
why do you cover your eyes when I cry out your name? Are you afraid of the world pulling out the rug from our feet? will you surface from the depths of our smoky, wet, starving sounds to know my depth of feelings for you? I frequently have to pause and reflect on the past because I know it pains you so, yet as we speak masterfully without tongues, it hurts in a good place… knowing we can capture this without having our heartbeats off synch in a clockless world.
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 2 months ago in PoetsTo Be, or Not To Be
To be, or not to be, that is the question —William Shakespeare (Hamlet) * To be, or not to be; that is the question. The only question that encompasses
Geraniums
Days passed without a shade, Enveloping her very being. She followed the whims of the wind, Searching for a path alien to her.
Mescaline BrissetPublished 2 months ago in PoetsPalate
Pool of honey rests In palate of mouth chamber Take the key from me
Rowan FinleyPublished 2 months ago in PoetsYearning
Ever yearned for more? I may not be allowed yet, but I yearn for you.
Rowan FinleyPublished 2 months ago in PoetsThunder In The Sky
A great big roar, A flash of light, The heavens create a beautiful sight. Darkness; The crashing of drums all around,
Carol TownendPublished 2 months ago in Poets