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.
Legacy of Love
In the hush of dawn, when the world awakes, And the sun peeks through with golden stakes, A symphony of life begins its play, A timeless dance in the light of day.
Feumbana Njoya FatimatouPublished about 4 hours ago in PoetsTurning 12
On the day I turned twelve, the world felt cold, a year older, yet feeling far too old. Bruises hidden, tears I'd learned to hide, My heart heavy, with nowhere safe inside.
C. D. GuzmanPublished about 10 hours ago in PoetsPart of the Spell
There are red-eyed Rex's with long lithe lizard tails that wrap around tree trunks, affixing them while they stare out for prey
Kate KastelbergPublished about 12 hours ago in PoetsThe Devil's Son
Growing up in shadows where light rarely treads. My father, the Devil, with whispers of dread. His pride was a prize, so elusive and cold, A father’s approval, worth more than gold.
C. D. GuzmanPublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsPericles
Pericles, the Pitcher Plant is surrounded by glory. His artistic and opportunistic friends sit around a congregation of the sticky and prickly sort. Unshaven, they chill with their lids off-an open door policy-for those insects drawn in by the lure of fermenting liquor from nectar punch leftover from partying the night before.
Tony MartelloPublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsPain Becomes Drive
In the quiet, haunting echoes of my mind, The pain you caused still lingers, intertwined. You shattered my trust, left me so frail, But from that sorrow, I learned to prevail.
C. D. GuzmanPublished about 17 hours ago in Poets- Content Warning
Why Hurt Me?
Why Did They Hurt Me? In the quiet hours of night, when shadows loom and linger, I sit alone and wonder, with trembling, tear-stained fingers.
C. D. GuzmanPublished about 19 hours ago in Poets A Flying Dinosaur
Once there was a creature .. a creature thst it’s quite majestic and mystical… a creature that has been existed for over billion years ago—-
Meghan LeVaughnPublished about 19 hours ago in PoetsSubjective
stir the pot thicker than the blood dripping from the thoughts off the top of my head rabble rouser, true art styler, never want to be a hero, rather be the Nero to art
Paul StewartPublished about 21 hours ago in Poetsborn of stardust
born of stardust clever line gives a real sense of direction where this is heading and why the embers of the dying light
Paul StewartPublished about 22 hours ago in PoetsReaching for Success
In orchards green, the fruit hangs high, A tempting sight against the sky. Yet only those who reach, who strive, Can taste the sweetness that's alive.
Ahsan AhmadPublished a day ago in PoetsToo Late
Don't know what you got.. I guess the saying is true And now, it's all gone
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished a day ago in Poets