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.

Soul Search
I was born empty, a beast, always hunting for a soul of my own.
By Lizzy Rose11 months ago in Poets
I Decorate My Body With Your Secrets
Listen to the waves. Can you hear the sound? The rapid beating of my heart. Screaming as you drowned. * You dance across my body.
By Bradley Ramsey11 months ago in Poets
Vampire Lore
Single red rose, Creative spark, Visions of us, Dance in the dark Magnetic obsession, Can’t look away, Things that your eyes,
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)11 months ago in Poets
When the light forgets
--- --- --- the --- light --- forgotten --- --- --- nothing --- to --- save you --- from --- death --- --- by --- --- paranoia --- ---
By Paul Stewart11 months ago in Poets
The Liminal Grip
fingers grip my throat in that dark liminal space between sleep and life * Thanks for reading!
By Paul Stewart11 months ago in Poets
Spirit Messengers of Earth and Sky
This is the time to call the spirit messengers to breathe peace into our universe of division and chaos in 2025. In Choctaw culture, birds, especially the Biskinik (often identified with the blue jay), are sacred messengers, symbols of communication, and bearers of spiritual news. They connect the earthly and spiritual realms, guiding and warning with their presence.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 11 months ago in Poets
untrusted fund. Content Warning.
he comes together from pieces people, places, and so many things collected from experiences an exponential doorknob with the portal that always revolves
By ⸘jason alan‽11 months ago in Poets
One With The Earth
I've become one with the dirt I'm rooted deep in its soil When I'm wounded or hurt Its loving, healing unfurls Feeding love through my veins
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden11 months ago in Poets
Old Roger Rises
He stalks at twilight Old Roger, the soap dodger with poisonous shite * Thanks for reading! Author's Notes: I won't ever apologise. It had to be done.
By Paul Stewart11 months ago in Poets
Reborn
No more than an ember Sputtering and weak Muse wafted by my ashen bed Light shone upon me Utterances issued forth Crackling, rekindling cold black coals
By K.B. Silver 11 months ago in Poets
Feeding On The Flames Of The Past
like an ant in the afterbirth storing the power of the embers gouging the need of self worth as the new body trembles seduced by your wares
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden11 months ago in Poets
The Heart's Pilgrimage in the Realm of Light
The sun it shines with hope, joy, warmth, and rebirth. Its rays do radiate and allow us to bask in love, not love of one another, or the other, and the other,
By Paul Stewart11 months ago in Poets