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.
Salvation
Remembering the first time I stepped onto this small island, the thick, hot air making me dizzy and tired. I wanted to sleep, but I found some fish for dinner washed up from the shore. I then checked my surroundings. The sand was so coarse and the environment so harsh,
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished about 18 hours ago in PoetsWhere my portion would reside.
Dwelling place, dwelling place, where my heart would reside, The security of familiarity, a place of comfort to confide,
Jordan ZunigaPublished about 20 hours ago in PoetsThe Truth of Dreams
I woke from the night’s rest, morning light warming sleepy eyes. I untangled the sheets, sitting up to approach the bedroom door
Keila AartilaPublished about 21 hours ago in PoetsHues of the divine
Every thought spins in place Trying to give meaning to this rat race Wry smile tucked inside How does one reconcile?
An eerie distant lullaby
She laid herself in dead grass so dry, Singing an eerie distant lullaby... The tears she wept, as she said goodbye To her dear loving husband, who had just died.
Sarah Rose GravesPublished about 22 hours ago in PoetsChaos - Case Study: Lilith, Between Worlds
Chains holding me in between worlds resist, I'm struggling to find air to breathe in, A paradox where I barely exist, But all the same, shackles abraise my skin.
TheHolderOfTimePublished about 22 hours ago in PoetsThe Necromancer
A lone figure bends over his work bench Chanting some word strange to mortal men An arm here a leg here Soon his army will rise
James Sedgley BurrPublished about 23 hours ago in PoetsBarry James
A qua’r-to-noon had risen in the sky of blue-and-cotton. There above the barn were hills and daffodills and, nearest by, the pastures patched in dainty squares of yarn.
Avital ShtapuraPublished a day ago in Poets10 Short Poems in the Comfort/Disaster of my Bedroom Desk
1. Gesso Acrylic white paint used to make surfaces on objects other than canvas, prevents bush destroying simple transformations equal wood and cardboard paintings
Erin Michelle MillerPublished a day ago in Poets8 Chubby Pockets / Everything Between and Surrounding / The Life of a Sailor
8 Chubby Pockets At some point in time... we decided to get lost • Led North by an airplane, our interpretation was direction
Justin MurrayPublished a day ago in PoetsHollow
Down in the deepest hollows of my heart, Lives someone with whom I cannot part. I waited nigh and day for him to leave, The one true love I ever believed.
Wake me up!
I take the same way to work each day, sometimes only half awake. I rarely change it up, and take the same way back. Someone please tell me how to find another path,
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 2 days ago in Poets