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.
family heirloom
7. I told my teacher that I lost my watch and she sat everybody in the room down and softly interrogated everybody. “Now class does anybody know where Bobby’s watch is? It is very valuable and important to him, and I need whoever took it to give it up immediately. if you give it up now there won’t be any consequences.”
By Robbie Bale3 years ago in Poets
family heirloom
5. Casually playing at recess and the kids were playing with me because I had that watch. I have this new legion of friends all because of that watch. flowers and daisy smell so good in the spring. I’m so glad Dad gave it to me. hopefully when I get older, I have a kid and I can give him the watch. and maybe he’ll have the same newfound successes I’m having right now. today is such a good day. I don’t think anything can go wrong. well at least that’s what I thought. I guess I spoke too soon .
By Robbie Bale3 years ago in Poets
family heirloom
4. And just how I expected Marcia until we are phenomenal. no idea what i was trying to say right there. I went after this one kid who thought his brand new superman action figure was the best thing in the world. but the moment that I pulled out that watch all the ooh’s and ahh’s in the class just had me geeking. I was so glad to be the one that everybody was gawking over. anyways, my teacher told me to put the watch up because we were all about to go out to recess. What a good day .
By Robbie Bale3 years ago in Poets
Tundra
A hike off the infamous trail. A perilous expedition, a journey off of the glorious path. These footprints keep going nowhere again. I have reached the inevitable end just for me to turn around and do it all over again. I have crossed over frozen ponds and hiked over treacherous terrain. You hold custody over my body but I keep trying to break free. I have ventured northward over hundreds of miles all for a smack to the face. I have gestured to the south all for an assault to my senses. To the west lies a broken wrist that prayed for an end to your madness. An eastern wind gave birth to a revival but you stomped it down to debris. I watch the sun peak over the horizon but you still are only eons away. This tundra is a blessing away from your thunder and rage. I have to return home eventually but this trip is annual now. It's a perennial power you use to abuse me. To prove my love, I must do all of the above. Domestic tranquility is a cover for violent genius. I haven't achieved maximum clarity yet. I do all of this for just one toxic embrace from you. A pilgrimage I believe will cure me. A hope that may never die. One day you will love me the way you were meant to. For now, I must travel abroad to demonstrate my loyalty. A devotion to a volatile god, unreciprocating and unrequited. Balancing on a jagged blade, tiptoeing across a dried up reservoir. You are the tragedy that sparks my resolve. You keep on giving then taking away your temperamental love.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Scythe
Heaven doesn't want me. Hell has no place for me. No haven awaits me. It is you that I cannot do without. I can live but it wouldn't be so grand. You're both the bane of my existence and the lifeline I cling to. You're the failure I made and the achievement I sank. You're the breath I hate and the heartbeat I love. You're the cause of all my suffering and the center of all of my endeavors. You bring me to the edge of my sanity and keep me safe from my unconsciousness. There's not a corner of the earth where you can't find me. There's not a place in the zenith where I won't look for you. We are trapped in the firmament together. We are wedded in the chaos forever. I won't let you go even when you've worn out your welcome. I'm not leaving even when I've had my fill. We will reign for as long as there is a kingdom. We will flourish as long as there is time left. You don't see the imperfect design that is me. You don't care about idiosyncrasies. Unflattering flaws, peculiar downfalls. You see me in all my ignorant bliss. We will burn together in this beautiful necropolis. I don't want a life without you and your patience. It's a burden where I won't accept anything less.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
