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.

grandma’s crib
3. Wake up feeling very refreshed. Ready to tackle the day. We ate a light breakfast. Then got to packing up. Surprised that everything could fit. So many people squished together.
By Robbie Bale3 years ago in Poets
Whose Am I
my demons lie with me, restless on my bed the fan moves the air cross' my legs his voice - like a vice, strapped round' my head
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden3 years ago in Poets
A Poem With Colours Instead of Eyes
poem this poem is musical metaphor. what i mean is it's about Philip Glass and Metamorphosis. this poem has colours instead of eyes. what i mean is
By Stevi-Lee Alver3 years ago in Poets
Should Have Known
i should have known something something or anything anything at all instead i was fucking oblivious trapped in and under
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
The Kids Want Coke
mum wants a rum auntie Lil is on the wine grandads on the home made gin dad just needs more time the kids want coke the kids want coke
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
Never Heard of Bjork
if it’s ten twenty nine in LA it must one twenty nine in New York how can you say you like the Sugar Cubes and then say that you’ve never heard of Bjork
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
How do you take it?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I would like to know; how do you take your tea?
By ThatWriterWoman3 years ago in Poets
Junkie Penguins
i got robbed by a junkie Penguin he bailed me up after work he was barely three feet tall you know i feel like such a useless jerk
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
One Of Those Days
It’s crazy to think about nothing When my brains is always trying to concoct something But today is seems to one of those days
By J3 years ago in Poets
Dear Grief
Dear Grief, Her floral sheets wave in the wind like hoisted sails broken free from masts, and with them wafts the smell of laundry,
By R.C. Taylor3 years ago in Poets
Dear Sally...
Dear Sally, Send the dates There’s a longer way to get there Trust me on this I know I’ve been fatal I know you’ve been fatal
By Aaron Morrison3 years ago in Poets
How to Find Poetry in Objects
Dear Backpack, It's been a while. I'm writing you now to see how you're holding up. More so now than ever before, poetry is the only form of madness that renders me sane. Below is our past, as I recall. Perhaps your memory is in better shape. I thought you could help keep me honest.
By Stevi-Lee Alver3 years ago in Poets