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.
Night Terrors: I won't sleep
I cannot fear dreams, they are not true, why must I feel so stuck in their twisted plots? showing me visions that shake me to my very core,
Lilian WiccaPublished 23 minutes ago in Poets
Piles Upon Piles - A Glimpse Inside Life With A Hoarder
Author's Note: Hoarding and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder are very real mental disorders that deserve, not jokes or judgement, but insights, understanding, and help! The following poem may trigger an unpleasant reaction if you or someone you know suffers from one of these conditions.
Friendly Chatter
You are incredible; undulating in perfect tranquility, yet insatiably greedy; a veritable monster. ❋ You devour the unsuspecting,
Daisy B. PeñalozaPublished about 3 hours ago in PoetsAddicted to You
Never mind it now, that you’re stuck in my mind now and forever and I fear I’ll never get you out. Fuck. What am I supposed to say? Say my feelings
Regrets
There are dreams I have Circling inside my heart. Will I achieve them? When I am unsure It is hard to understand Why I freeze in time.
Hi, I'm Ayana.Published about 4 hours ago in Poets
Day dreaming to feel alright
Cricket's sing and prance through the thick cut blades, la lune shines peacefully in the still of the alluring night, laying below shadowed pine and rustling branches,
Lilian WiccaPublished about 6 hours ago in PoetsThe Sea
The blue waters bubble around me As I dip once more beneath the waves Like a sleek dolphin cutting through the ocean highway
Paul DouglasPublished about 7 hours ago in PoetsLight
The google definition of light follows: "the natural agent that stimulates sight and makes things visible." . The reality
Jordan Thomas MarxPublished about 15 hours ago in PoetsAutumn winds and cloudless skies
Midday in the middle of October, There’s no traffic down the street, and everyone is busy. Looking up, you’ll find a cloudless sky after so many days, wondering if the sun will grace us. The sun will warm your skin but ever so slightly always be out of range.
Rambler's SocietyPublished about 21 hours ago in Poets
Owly is someone.
a flurry of finger pats sniffing soft swollen insides dwelling ss. / squishy and sweet in strawberry milk pink green and blue
When you get the wrong kind of grilled cheese, go to the land of trees!
Saw three trees today. Or was it four? My stomach, my core wasn’t I had to blow my nose Two to three times I think I had a nap before that
When She Comes
Death, She intrigues me Not a lot of her I see All around me Like a grey misty shadow hovering in the sky Takes all, with the blink of an Eye
