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.

Caught
Six months ago the world seemed to stop Time did not exist, just acknowledge as a concept that existed Work was done in the brightening hours of the next day
By Angelica de Jesus5 years ago in Poets
Timeless
The idea of immortality doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Once upon an idea I loved the idea I lusted after it, in fact. When you’re young the idea of forever seems addicting like a promise of youth.
By Lala K.5 years ago in Poets
God Has No Name
The bicycle ticks The car rattles The piss of the dog trickles down the wall. The eaters eat, the walkers walk, and the girl takes a picture of her food or of herself,
By Dark Matters5 years ago in Poets
You Save Me Every Day
It’s a flash It’ll pass It’ll pass It’ll pass A noose hanging, neck cricked The cold pulsing as the blood drips Water flows over the tub rim
By Dark Matters5 years ago in Poets
Mortals Compassion
Oh woe to she who falls down in the crevice of society Only to be trodden by the successes of their eccentricity Shall I bear ye not on my shoulders
By Dark Matters5 years ago in Poets
The Soul Leaps First
Bury me like the earth buries fossils, let some archeologists dig up my body, venture into a feeling of the void calling,
By Soul5 years ago in Poets
My Spirit Has A Solar System
What if you followed me into this grand constellation? Sat with me on Orion and swam in the magnetic fields of the Milkyway.
By Soul5 years ago in Poets
Poem
I have always reached for the stars and burnt in the sun, it's a pattern a trigger that's not just begun. I make it to the top to free fall down, how can I turn this aspect of life around. Do I settle for less and make my goals lower, stop speed racing through life and drive a little slower. Or do I bounce back up and higher then I have fallen, and pass the eagles on the way up soaring.
By Alfred Cosme5 years ago in Poets
The Sweetness of Sleep
My bed... It calls to me Beckoning Enticing Promising That sweet relief from wakefulness So much time spent Sleeping
By ian.5 years ago in Poets
Dreamer
Let me lie, O city wall Tempt me not with wandering dreams. Naught may be as what it seems As I am but the lowly thrall
By Gabriel Dentler5 years ago in Poets
Dreamers' Storms
There is a place that you may go sometimes It maybe dark or bright You could hear either drums or pianos One things for sure never one the x mark door
By Becca Chesney5 years ago in Poets
Façade
You go to great lengths to hide all of your pain, You even built up this image of yourself that everyone believes to be real.
By J5 years ago in Poets