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.
In The USSR
My wish came true! I’m in the USSR travelling with a travel group. My first visit to the USSR was like falling down the rabbit hole to enter Wonderland. I saw a long row of colourful, colossal cathedrals, kings and queens in royal costumes, bright, green grassy slopes, crazy roads and sidewalks packed with cars, buses, bicycles, motorcycles, and weird pedestrians. It was a foreign experience. It was a risky experience. I got lost in the dark quite a few times, but I managed to exit this spooky labyrinth with the help of my travel mates. I was happy-go-lucky at the end, safe, sound, and comfortable with my army of travel buddies. I want to visit Russia again, but I’ll wait until I have another deep sleep.
By Talia Devora4 years ago in Poets
Stardust
I had a strangest dream the other night. I dreamed of bridges pointing up to heaven, and though it was a quarter past eleven, the night was gentle and world was bright. A burning spire spearing the sky reached all the way across the quiet river – it all felt wrong, I did not know just why, but something strange has set my heart ashiver. I couldn't figure out just what it was, the feeling of unease both strong and fleeing and then it hit me: it was off because there was no one there, not a single being - no animals, no people and no birds, no sounds, no smells, no wind, just ringing in my ears. I stood in shock for days or weeks or years not shedding any tears, at loss for words, my loneliness complete, my purpose gone, the emptiness around neonly burning, and then I felt the need, the pain, the yearning to build a better world for everyone, to reach across the void and touch the stars, so far, so sharp, so lonely and so blue, and let them burn my hands to blistered scars. Then I woke up and next to me was you.
By Vadim Kagan4 years ago in Poets
The Mansion Witch
I owned half a mansion, I inherited it from my great grandfather. A witch owned the other half, she got it from her great grandmother. Our great grandparents were briefly married, got divorced, found other people, had children with the other people, but decided to each keep half of the mansion. It made taxes cheaper, even though neither person was a keeper.
By Alex H Mittelman 4 years ago in Poets
