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.

A Horse after Dark
I saw a horse after dark alone, on the avenue that links Moore and Centennial Park, with a name like Buttercup; a trotting cliche.
By Maximilian Kobras5 years ago in Poets
The Toad King. . .
Enrypted messages Divinci codes The prince becomes a King From talks with a toad A price you must pay I'll show you the way
By Geizael, The Great Wicked Destroyer5 years ago in Poets
The Child Who Cried
There was a child crying alone— it was dark and there was no way home. Why are you crying? asked the moon.
By Joanna Celeste5 years ago in Poets
Sandy Warm Isolated Prison
“Three swigs of water, one canister of gasoline, and three matches left”, he spoke to himself as he rumbled through the remains of the last broken wooden crate- scattered upon the sandy warm isolated ground of his prison. He foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with hope and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He then carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match. Yet another night, he waited. He rose the next morning to a sandy warm isolated prison littered with burnt coconuts...and no ship on the horizon. “Two swigs of water, one canister of gasoline, and two matches left” he spoke to himself as he foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with angst and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He then carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match. Yet another night, he waited. He rose the next morning to a sandy warm isolated prison littered with burnt coconuts, a growing sense of hopelessness…and no ship on the horizon.“One swig of water, one canister of gasoline, and one match left” he spoke to himself as he foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with hope and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He sobbed as he guzzled the last swig of water. There was never any food. He knew this was his final chance. He carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match.
By Rayne5 years ago in Poets
The destruction of the chieftain.
Songs were song upon the land, the mourning widows cries, Strength deterred, weakened hand, unsuccessful despite the tries,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
THE LIGHTHOUSE
Finally. I have been waiting so long to tell my story. It is so lonely here on the rocks by myself. I mean, the sights I see.
By Novel Allen5 years ago in Poets
Topple The Tin Gods!
Although I support freedom, I do not need limitations! Although I support liberty, I do not need publican lies! Although I support happiness, I do not need unnecessary sacrifices!
By Hoyt Douglas Battles5 years ago in Poets
The Moment Before Infinity
In the moment before disaster, that last second of peace before everything erupted into volcanic ash of chaos and confusion. The naive and vulnerable state of that last second of normalcy will be forever imbedded in your mind as a question of eternity. Why did I do this? What could I have done different to change it? The last second of normalcy is both envied and repulsed in a conundrum of the heart that the brain strains to explain. Wishing to go back to a time of seemingly inconsequential vulnerability while simultaneously resenting your past self for not being able to arrest the subsequent chain of action and reactions before it altered all foreseeable remaining existence. The split second prior to the tragedy’s entrance into existence, is forever to be mourned and recounted as the last moment of peaceful innocence, oblivious to the approaching vicissitude that will transform current life forever.
By Dezarae Shanna Janel5 years ago in Poets
Kerosene Oil and Uniqueness :
Sick and tired of holding the applause with criticism the perfect backdrop, for a theater of stars, peridot swirling like clouds-
By Saroyan Coles5 years ago in Poets
Aqua Marine
Playing through tears Sunshine blinds fears As we medicate our eminent sores An ill attempt to breathe Momentarily ease
By Dezarae Shanna Janel5 years ago in Poets
Home
Where is my home? Will I know it when I see it? Will it welcome me back? The nostalgia, the comfort, and that smell…
By Karyssa Adair5 years ago in Poets
Salvation
Remembering the first time I stepped onto this small island, the thick, hot air making me dizzy and tired. I wanted to sleep, but I found some fish for dinner washed up from the shore. I then checked my surroundings. The sand was so coarse and the environment so harsh,
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Poets