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.

In the Grave
I feel like I'm drowning. Every secret and feeling I ever had has been pounding against my skull like a fist to a face. Trying to deal with every triumph in my life and still make sure the ones I love the most are ok is keeping me from who is really important... Myself. I'm constantly being asked why because of so many things I haven't done but not once have I gave my true answers. I want everyone to grow with me but instead I'm just digging my own grave. 1 foot... 2 foot... 3 foot ... 4 foot... 5 foot... 6 feet under.
By Pooka Mitchell7 years ago in Poets
Christmas Morning ‘18
Where did you go? I remember spring days the shadows were long that year my tube socks were pulled down until they bunched like day old donuts at my ankles.
By Iain J7 years ago in Poets
As Far as Your Lips from Mine
Maybe we got wet Under the same, identical rain. Maybe we spilled the same tears Under different bed sheets. Maybe we thought of each other
By coffee writer7 years ago in Poets
Beautiful People
We quietly departed from twilight gazing at the stars overshooting the sky with ease with space but unalike it was all recast with daylight
By Ashley Tong 7 years ago in Poets
Good Morning
Time gave way and fled in awe- How do I deserve the pleasure? For all the names I can recall, could not provide an even ledger.
By Lexys Quinn7 years ago in Poets
The Ringing in My Ears
It’s in my ears And then it’s in the room Like headphones slipping out of the jack That shot of fear In the second and a half or so
By Violet P. Davies7 years ago in Poets
Black Cats & Bonfires
The black cats have stolen a piece of my soul every daybreak as the sun sets As the moon becomes my midnight snack I can feel
By Alexia Villanueva7 years ago in Poets
The Little Ghost
She cowered beneath the midnight sun, beneath the waves of Halloween She opened my body and peeled me like orange, drank my blood like
By Alexia Villanueva7 years ago in Poets
Stay Creepy
They say I am Uncharacteristically psychotic My brain is the very graveyard that ghosts haunt and goblins mark. Were blood becomes
By Alexia Villanueva7 years ago in Poets
A Witch
I cast a spell to make you fall in love I am nothing but darkness that hides in the crevices of your eyes The very tears
By Alexia Villanueva7 years ago in Poets
Poem: The Monster
The darkness covers my body like veil. The monster calls my name from the riverbend as the darkness befriends my
By Alexia Villanueva7 years ago in Poets
Buses
Strange things, buses... Boxes on wheels with people randomly entering and exiting. I can be in a crowd and be totally alone. I sit at my window seat staring out onto the city passing by.
By Skye Bothma7 years ago in Poets