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.

Many Nothings
Then it all stopped I breathed my last breath From meaning came nothing Until all has been and imagined Is there time at all?
By Ian D5 years ago in Poets
~ 1 CELF 1……..9
1……..9 No need for anger, Just an parliament of life which sums up danger. Live to enjoy and forgive, Killing is an repercussion which destroys rather then too love.
By JaMes P BasTiEn5 years ago in Poets
ONCE UPON A TIME
Good guys finish last, So why cry when I have the last laugh? Before Christian, I was that Guy. Dumb girls I hit,
By Sean Noble5 years ago in Poets
Brave the Storm
It was supposed to be just a pit stop on the way until the storm warning came out on the radio, so Sally and Ernest stopped at the one motel
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Poets
Rapture
Held by rapture Dampened by daily routine Hopeful of connection Run through by love Each to their own As I see beyond the petty
By Ian D5 years ago in Poets
Mother Time
She is there, always, never left, armed with relentless patience She is often mishandled, mislabeled, disrespected Her children, her beloved, her own
By Rose Bacud5 years ago in Poets
Untethered Approximations
Spend my days pondering impossibilities Refuting my conclusions Twiddle and tease present time with fate Send my notions unto the horizons
By Ian D5 years ago in Poets
Extra tracks to focus my feelings
These tracks mark my childhood and my teenage years, and kept me feeling grounded, at peace— because the sounds and the lyrics and the moods they represent all felt like me at one point, and my childhood specifically. Now, I listen to them as an adult in retrospective review, in a deep conversation with my past, in peace with my mind about traumas and fears I’ve had before I became an adult.
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Poets
PLUM BRANDY SUNSET
PLUM BRANDY SUNSET The ceiling is spinning I drank every last drop of țuică. Enmity unspools from my soul like red and green yarn spun by the Fates.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR5 years ago in Poets
Matter
Matter, is it bricks and mortar, is it rivers flowing with running water, Is it the skin and bones that make your shape?
By Todd Kidd 5 years ago in Poets
What Happened to Julie
I don't think you remember her name—or do you? It's been so long, and each day has taken us away. She was in all the newspapers and on all the stations;
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Poets
You Spoke
You spoke a breath, a thought that moved from mind to mouth, the words a declaration. The silence broken, the heavens responded
By Katrina J. Ford5 years ago in Poets