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.
the seas of color
Every hue of blue breaks breaths since I was a pirate as a child standing in front of the air conditioner in the hot summers
colton brownPublished 3 years ago in PoetsBrown in the Sun
I walk with a heavy load. Sugar cane sticks loaded on my back. My knees buckle with ache. I fall into a haze. A memory slowly rises from the heat of the sun.
Juanita DudhnathPublished 3 years ago in PoetsSkin?
I am black and blonde and sometimes blue but proud to be unique and I suffer deeply when someone calls me freak I find myself pondering my life if I wasn’t in the skin I’m in.
Betsyann ThorntonPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Color of my mind
The color of my mind I had a dream A dream of meeting a little girl
Iolanda MonteiroPublished 3 years ago in PoetsQuestion The Exercise
how dare you! to ask me to define myself with painted up pronouns. a black heart, a yellow streak, green with envy or blood red (I could go on, but I don't wanna)
Craig JohnsonPublished 3 years ago in PoetsAmber
In school you learn about the traffic lights Green, yellow, red Go, slow down, stop Though yellow was always called amber
Katheryn McNicholasPublished 3 years ago in PoetsPurple Might
Purple What are you? What will you become? A dance across galaxies, timelines, hues meeting the edge of perception in unspoken perfection
Yellow Nostalgia
I once scared of blank space When it was its brightest Its mouth got so big, I had to run away Night went fast and deep
Forgetting What I Had Known
I had to move out of the cities to find a prettier city. I had to move out of the cities, because I was afraid of the cities.
orangepeachapplesPublished 3 years ago in PoetsRainbow Recovery
I tumbled to Earth all rainbows, blossom pops and neon ribbons... But in a world of grey I, inevitably, lost my way ...and when the concrete stares back at you with blank indifference, no matter how many glitter specked slops of pigment you coughed up and spat out, with hope-tempered indignance... You start to question your vibrance - your beauty resplendent. Is joy even worthy? Shame a better replacement? They seem to all cheer when I deflate in complacence, surrender my Truth and lay flat on the pavement... My passions and purples - bled dry in raindance...
Cressida Lavinia VegaPublished 3 years ago in PoetsGaia Transitioning
Around me hung on every hand my organic threads thrive! a richly green. But a Huntsman’s chill lingers. Nipping winds, like feral hounds
Rae JanneyPublished 3 years ago in PoetsBlack
Black. The color of my curtains The color of my clothes The color of my nails And the color of my tears From all the years that I was “trying.”
The AdventurerPublished 3 years ago in Poets