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.
Nebula
On the first night, I heard its breath. On the second night, I heard the quiet whispers, hushed and malicious. On the third, I heard the screams of others, not my family, for I am so alone. On the fourth, I had enough, I rose to confront the beast, only to lay back down.
By Andreas Colman8 years ago in Poets
Fish
I. I see fish in my thoughts. Their bones spread out. Carved underneath a hollow space of soft tissue. I nestle myself there. Weeks I waited to go fishing with my grandpa. Tackle boxes much like coolers used to carry body parts. Boy from next door running out to us. We sit in the back. My brother, sister and I. Glances from the neighborhood boy pull me as we pull worms back on pointy hooks. His eyes like cockroaches crawling up my legs. He moved near and then away. My brother next to me checks my rod. Grandpa pulls hooks out of fat lipped brown fish. I see the boy from the neighborhood coming. He is almost on top of me hand squeezing up my shirt. A fish moves at my feet willing opens its mouth takes in my worm. It is silver. I watch as eyes begin to turn glossy (like fancy magazines you read but don’t buy) then I am bending down and turning away from the boy. There is a jolt in my hand. A movement of unhooking. And the fish is gone.
By Samantha Williams8 years ago in Poets
