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.
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Sublime
Thumping, Thumping, Thumping in his veins The beat of death and the failing rhythm of life. Reaching, grabbing, missing with his hands.
Silver Serpent BooksPublished 3 days ago in Poets womb shadow woman
Synchronized hierophant I've been misplaced Waste no time with those with no taste Deep within that womb held plenty shadow
Amourè DeezyyPublished 3 days ago in PoetsWhisper of the Night: The jasmine's Tale
In the calm of the evening, where the stars murmur mysteries Furthermore, the moon's silver light moves upon the earth, A sensitive scent winds through the air,
Rony SutradarPublished 3 days ago in PoetsI'm Comfortable here!
Waves lap one another as the sun kisses my skin, The taste of Pineapple juice is no sin, Sweet voices in the air as the seagulls sing,
Carol TownendPublished 4 days ago in PoetsSeduced
Your Kissing Me And Threatening My Heart With Your Eyes… Procrastination Began, To Speak, But Just Like A Dream It Was All In My Mind…
HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)Published 4 days ago in PoetsA Melody of Tears: A Song for a Lost Friend
In the hush of night, where shadows lie, A melody of tears escapes a cry. A symphony of sorrow fills the air, A broken heart's lament, a whispered prayer.
Ivan IslamPublished 4 days ago in PoetsThe Adversary: Hans
I am little bit in disbelieve, Am I alive or am I dead? I am aware enough to see no pillars beneath me, Perhaps this is purgatory?
House SeptemberPublished 5 days ago in PoetsI Sit alone .
I sit alone for hours I keep telling my own stories to myself. What is wrong and what is right? I just keep thinking this. The sound of the cuckoo behind and the roar of flowing water in front. I just keep listening in my ears. I don't feel like leaving from one's own freedom where should I go leaving this behind On one hand this is freedom where I am the only one, I live within myself. If I go away from here So I don't know why? fill your mind with strangers I remain a slave.
Little Love
Most of the time we aim for big things, But we don’t understand the power of little things. Something as small as eyes can capture a big universe,
Lazywriter41Published 5 days ago in PoetsThe Persistence of Memory
The arrow of time keeps pointing forward… or is it? If the gods wanted to for once and for all torment humanity, it would be enough to make them conscious of the trespassing of dimensions. Change. Time.
Because Randy Asked Me To
Slicing through the canvas Dancing on the stars Catching the breeze before us So grace glides to where we are Meeting in the middle
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 5 days ago in Poetsthe law of the land
few full bellies gorge most beg at their feet to then share the dirty crumbs
Luiza AraujoPublished 5 days ago in Poets