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 Blood on the hands of My Family Tree
*Blood, as thick as the syrup that runs deep in the veins of the family tree The roots based on generations of growth and development, like the many generations that flow within me
By Jupiter Kevin Paul Morgan5 years ago in Poets
home run
There's no place like it brainless heartless and cowardice and lost walk through the dark forest on broken yellow bricks
By susan marie loehe5 years ago in Poets
of Wings and Water
I. Butterfly wings lay in the grass, fallen from the air like petals drawn on by God's crayons. Let's collect them for your wife
By Caitlyn Davis5 years ago in Poets
We Are We
We are We Time is the one true measure We are just miniscule speckles in a plethora of unexplored territory We are we
By Maya Pilgram5 years ago in Poets
Did You Hear About Him?
Did you hear about him? I heard he’s hard to understand In times of trouble He is more palatable Without love of things
By Shane Eide5 years ago in Poets
A lot of nonsense...
I have seen the tears enough to know they don't add up; I have seen the smiles, and know they don't subtract. In all of these oceans, in all of these lands, a drop in the bucket and lives like the sands, and where I started is a faded memory that seems like a fairy tale from here.
By Benjamin Kibbey5 years ago in Poets
Release
Let’s make fennel smoothies with grapefruit. —icicles spraying into my eyes from the perfection of your drink— I am still not blinded from the potency of your R O M A N C E—
By Talia Zisman5 years ago in Poets
A Page-Turner
Each struggle, a paper cut from flipping the pages Each chapter, a new section in my life Each page, the different phases of my past
By Maya Pilgram5 years ago in Poets
Beautiful Weapon
Beautiful Weapon Beautiful spear, close to me like dark skin blackened by the sun. More dangerous than guns. When in silence your violence shows
By Yona Vaughan 5 years ago in Poets
A Toast to the city!
A toast to the city! London, I have found you to be multi-faceted. You are not your people. You are not your skyline. You are not your monuments.
By Angelica Thomas5 years ago in Poets
Sit
I sit in the lawn chair on the balcony of my rented apartment… Behind bars to keep me from falling. The sun shines a foot away
By Anthony Dahm5 years ago in Poets
The Grobbelgriffy Bagenbowel
The Grobbelgriffy Bagenbowel swoopled through the haze , and horramandies freakydunked beneath its fearsome gaze. Shifting, switching, needlepitching: the fear, it made me sick ,
By BananaMan5 years ago in Poets