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.

Meer
My heart you sight or my soul; there it arose. Fumes darted right, from where it arose? O Sky! Who, burnt-heart is buried in this grave?
By Mejagir5 years ago in Poets
Egregious Everyday Evil #3-March
Whether in the forest or on the streets, there’s an insatiable little being who only eats the cash in our pockets, our wallets, and banks;
By Anthony Crutcher5 years ago in Poets
Believe
I’ve been disowned by my birthed She said I got lessons to learn 8th grade lessons cause they can Young bodies are craved by some men
By Cadma5 years ago in Poets
How Do Others See Me?
I am a being of different angles. I cannot put my essence into words. All my life I tried to identify myself with adjectives, skills, a career, things I like and don't like my family and friends, knowledge or opinions. My experiences make me who I am now, a soul in constant transformation. But in the past, I was running away from my true self.
By Laura Blu Sandía5 years ago in Poets
What Big Eyes You Have
“don’t go into the woods alone at night,” her mother said, but Pietra was not like the other girls who wandered this way and that, especially in the company of boys—
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Poets
how we are like ants
I am a carpenter ant Gnawing at the rotten flesh Of a coniferous corpse, sweet Honeydew leftovers on my Antennae.
By Benson M.5 years ago in Poets
Greater things
Gentle waves upon the shore, caress the sand, lay bare, Eyes that look upon the horizon, the setting of the sun, stare,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Life on the Borderline
Invertebrate tombed in the dark nadir Wrestles in its sleep Worm of lore, covets gore, brain to bore, tender core Wrenches free from slumberland
By Tim StiX5 years ago in Poets
There's a Fire Burning
There's a fire burning I can feel it. I wonder in the darkness carrying this heavy water bucket trying not to spill it. The worlds in a crisis took me years just to fill it.
By Kimber Goodwin5 years ago in Poets
A House Of Bones
In this house of bones I sit among my trappings Staring into the abyss Watching the sun pass me by Hoping that every tear that falls
By Alyssa McKinzie5 years ago in Poets
THE VIRUS CORONA
We christened this virus Corona Which means 'likened unto a crown' Who made her 'Queen' and gave her permission to devastate the land
By Novel Allen5 years ago in Poets
A Path of my Choosing
Is it possible with intention to transform myself? To possibly recreate my entire reality. A reboot of the most extreme nature,
By Katie 5 years ago in Poets