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.
GOVERNORS OF PARADISE
GOVERNORS OF PARADISE 10/11/2026 This has been brewing for a few days in my notebook. It began as a self-indictment poem. I didn't know where to go after writing the line "the unholy welcome me with open arms," so I left it alone. A few days later, something I saw on the news inspired the ending. Yesterday, after writing from "I bathe in blood" through "a mile away," the final lines arrived.
By Victor Mendez19 days ago in Poets
Loud Thunder
The clouds convene with thunderous delight, Their voices clash in wild electric flight. The earth beneath trembles, awake from sleep, Each crack and boom a promise it will keep; A symphony of nature's fierce embrace, Resounding loud across the open space. Raindrops leap like dancers on the stage, Their rhythm strikes like words upon a page; The air alive with stories yet untold, In every note—a memory unfolds. Children laugh as lightning paints the sky, Their joy erupts as if to dare the high; While lovers stand together hand in hand, And share their secrets loud across the land. So let us raise our voices to this sound, For in its roar our lost hearts may be found; With every storm that shakes our weary bones, We learn to find our strength within these tones.
By Forest Green21 days ago in Poets
Threshold's Walk
What was I walking into, a realm unknown, Where shadows danced with secrets on the floor? The air thick with whispers, a chilling tone, Each step a question, each heartbeat implore. A flickering light from the old lantern’s glow, Illuminated faces both familiar and strange; Echoes of laughter from long years ago, And murmurs of promise in moments that change. The scent of aged wood and forgotten dreams, Wrapped around me like a comforting shroud; I wandered through memories stitched at the seams— Time unraveling gently beneath the crowd. In corners where silence held stories untold, Ghosts of my past waved like leaves in the breeze; I sought for connection amid echoes bold, Yet found only shadows that whispered with ease. What was I walking into but my own heart? A tapestry woven with joy and despair; Every thread tangled in love’s fragile art— An intricate pattern beyond all compare. So here I stand still at this threshold divine, With courage to face what is mine to embrace; For every dark entry leads back to the line— Of life’s endless journey through time and space.
By Forest Green21 days ago in Poets
Afternoon Toast
In evening’s glow, where shadows softly play, The table set with warmth and golden light, A crusty loaf lies waiting, fresh arrayed, Beside a glass of amber, bold and bright. With every slice, the scent of earth arises, Yeast's gentle whispers dance upon the air; I tear the bread—its heart a soft surprise— Each crumb a story woven with such care. And as I sip this whiskey rich and deep, The oak barrels sing their tales of time gone by; A symphony that lingers while I steep In moments lost—a memory awry. Together here, in simple joy we blend, This bread and spirit shared till twilight's end.
By Forest Green21 days ago in Poets
