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.

Marionettes
During the pandemic, we were no longer free humans; we became marionettes, inanimate objects that were constantly being leashed,
By Talia Devora4 years ago in Poets
Blue Eyes
Deep as the ocean, blue eyes so bright, Like sparkling sapphires in the light, A window to the soul they are, Shining like a guiding star.
By Jaswal Khan4 years ago in Poets
Punched In The Face
I jumped out of bed, saw the rising sun, and bam! I got punched in the face. The bright, light morning became a dark, gloomy one
By Talia Devora4 years ago in Poets
Well Old Son: Part Four
IV Liquid fire burns but does not shine in misty night skies. In the shadows of a broken imagination, a bewildered body cowers. A simple remedy: spoonfuls of psychedelic poems stirring the sound of colour. Toxically allured by scintillating oil rainbows, more vivid and less illusional than those of pure rain.
By Stevi-Lee Alver4 years ago in Poets
eminent domain
as tall as they come, we are all filled with hope - that's the drink of water i want, we think - and fresh from the springs.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
The Courage to Dream
In the depths of our hearts, Lie dreams and aspirations, A vision of the life we desire, And the path to our salvation. But often we let fear take hold,
By Nick Tomko4 years ago in Poets
The Wild Within
Oh, the wild within me calls, As I hear the distant cry, Of the wind through the trees, And the eagle soaring high. The scent of the earth,
By Nick Tomko4 years ago in Poets
You Died To Soon
We remember loved ones who love us unconditionally. The love they show. The support they give. You died too soon, but the love you had will never fade.
By Emily Curry (Rising Phoenix)4 years ago in Poets
Depths of my mind
In the depths of my mind, Where thoughts and dreams entwine, I wander through a world unknown, A place where all is yet to be shown.
By Overnight night4 years ago in Poets
Ghosts Do Not Walk
No matter how much we want ghosts to walk, they do not. No matter how much we project them on the walls, no matter how much we want to feel their weight shift,
By Sara Wynn4 years ago in Poets
What is Wrong with Me?
What is wrong with me? I don’t feel right what could be amiss? I don’t feel like a woman but feel feminine… But toxic masculinity has told me that I am wrong…
By Vex Luther Lionheart4 years ago in Poets
Repose and Awakening
Repose takes over, Unexpected, unplanned, A hazy state, Mind and body caught off-hand. Hours pass, In the blink of an eye,
By Alexander J. Vale4 years ago in Poets