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.
Ellie
Yellow sun peaks his head over the mountains birds singing in the early morning car rides to Ellie's house sleepy eyes get heavier until I arrive Patchy dry grass cool light blue sky hot air swirling around innocent laughter rings throughout the peaceful neighborhood enjoys our show Dark brown locks flowing in the air running around her house grinning silly smiles passing the day by until I leave — I miss the simple summers spent with my friend.
By Derek Evers5 years ago in Poets
The Swan's Egg
* A fork. * A fork, cup, pan, * and oil. Basic essentials to make * A perfectly fried egg. Ohh and heat. * Maybe some salt if you like to tantalize * the taste buds, we are so eager to please. * Those of the gentler species would see mishaps, * Well, the speckles of the shell, the freckles if I am * Myself am kind, as great necessary imperfections … * They lead to some grandeur of beauty, a necessary evil * BREATHE That leads to unique. BREATHE * Something to be admired, treasured despite its shortcomings * To be truly beneficial to humans as to distinguish one chicken egg * From the other. The devourer knows no difference to appearance – * it is bestowed on him by grace of an upset stomach. *Regardless of unique under the bosom of the mother the egg finds shelter. *A place where care and love feed of each other, in the warmth of a Mother- * A sweet-sweet innocence. * Though my lips have moved do you not hear, ohh great tiger. Hear me. * Or are you lion? I am an enemy? Your seed who dares to breathe. Mum * I know not what I have done. I see pain as you claim someone’s son. * I felt it edged into your back, where you cradled my hot tears till I slept. * An open wound my resemblance tore apart as it dug deeper into the * Dreams unmet. BREATHE * A name whose one half bore a constant red scribble beneath * And the other a name accepted by the conventions of English… * It was also there on your back, I learnt heartbreak in black and blue. * Screams rung loud as each word would touch you without consent. * And now I ,stand with feet worn down being frozen by the pale Tiles, * I now call home. It is here that I miss you most, hunger deep * With an cracked egg in one hand, as my memory * Serves me another dose * BREATHE Of your smile. * A pain I know no end of. Love and hatred are common folks. Kind. * But strangers to peace, when they are allies. But it is way easier to * Hate you, than it is to accept the burden your partner has left. . * You gave me life, shelter, and an education. At times you . * Would lay with me as sickness engulfed my small body * In flames. I heard stories of your sleepless nights, when * You knew not of my return. Baby after baby. Dead. * As you watched other mothers cry next to you. * In return I give to you … * Blood now covers the portion my finger * Covers, as part of its shell pierces my * Flesh. * But who am I to complain, When you? * Ohh Helen, dear Helen of Troy. * Shared a womb. Mother- * Unknown. Born in an * egg.
By Neally Chingombe5 years ago in Poets
