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.

Fractal Actuality
parts of my world are crumbling into little tiny pieces parts of my world stand tall an edifice of perseverance, longevity and commitment
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
A Letter To Cozy
To Cozy, my love, Wisdom can’t describe The worlds behind your eyes, Bright blue, and confident as the sea. Your midnight shades of hair
By Abigail Y4 years ago in Poets
Weight
The weight of all my sins have bore down upon me, building upon my back and I’ve been bending. For months, for years, I have bent. Springing back came so easy, I thought I was fine. I swore I was fine. I convinced myself I was fine. I promised I was fine. I was not fine.
By Jake Trammell4 years ago in Poets
Comfort In The Sun.
Don’t get me wrong! I know that the world doesn't revolve around me but.. I wish that the sun did. I know that it doesn’t rise and fall at my command but..
By Tasjanah Anderson 4 years ago in Poets
Linger
Comfort creeps from unlikely places from folds in clouds like unfurled peonies eager to pop pounce and fill your head with petals.
By Teresa Renton4 years ago in Poets
Hubris
One arachnid blowing in the wind, Two nuns who always sin. Three cotton candies, sugary sweet, Four, sweaty rotting feet.
By Rachael MacDonald4 years ago in Poets
welcome
without regret the unending lives upon yet more lives spiraling into creation this bright step in the staircase here marked and remarked
By susan marie loehe4 years ago in Poets
about sadness a little
sad days are always like this today we buried our Queen my birthday is always the same when I am drowning in sorrow in my bed
By Sun Bee4 years ago in Poets
comfort coat.
the comfort you gave me it stayed in my memory the memory of lost feelings when you have taken up the cudgels on behalf of me
By Sun Bee4 years ago in Poets
An overly devoted Junkie's Addiction
Comfort... Comfort It is known. It is found... Comfort... Comfort It can keep us imprisoned. It can keep us impounded.
By Thavien Yliaster4 years ago in Poets
Quickly, Slowly. Dying.
It thumps. It taps. It bangs. Hello, hello old visitor, New friend. Welcome to the madness Staining the sky this unholy red.
By Silver Daux4 years ago in Poets
Therapy
I thought it would be easy being in therapy I have had counsellors / social workers since I was 11 I am used to talking to people about my trauma
By Minhal Kahloon4 years ago in Poets