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.

All poets are insane. Top Story - August 2022.
I am convinced that all poets are insane and the best poetry comes from the craziest brains. Loose bolts, dangling screws,
By Lune4 years ago in Poets
Peace & Comfort
Scolding water flows over my body, engulfing me with heat. Standing there for a few minutes longer, soaking it in. Turning off the water, I step out into the warm thick air.
By Ali Wha4 years ago in Poets
God
I’d click my heels because there’s no place like home. Give me a day, as I attempt to build Rome. Let there be light to see where I’m going, as I assert myself in a serious tone.
By Desmond Razzano4 years ago in Poets
Unlimited Comfort
Comfort in my loneliness. Comfort in silence. Comfort from the morning sun rays slipping through the blinds. Comfort when the sheets of the bed are soft against my legs
By Frida Ramos They/her4 years ago in Poets
Ladybug on the Ceiling
Yesterday, I promised I wouldn’t cry, so I bared my waterline and screamed at the universe instead. * I wilted when Earth sighed and said,
By Sam Eliza Green4 years ago in Poets
memory
my body lays flat and lifeless beneath the sheets the audio of a bone cracking and squishing pounds beneath my ears I don't know how long i’ve been here
By bianca4 years ago in Poets
creations children
beyond the boundary toes curl on the edge of the world knees bent as they plummet themselves into the plush of the clouds
By bianca4 years ago in Poets
Angel with a Broken Wing
I’m in heaven but I still feel so scared, A constant feeling of impending doom, Like something is about to snatch me any second,
By CotardDelusionz4 years ago in Poets
Banners Burnt by Brimstone
Simple and poignant, clear and graceful, words that hit you with a face full. Better start calling me more names, For all these personalities got with vigor in my veins. I really really missed all your voices inside my brains. Better throw your nets. Start making lots of bets, The catch is going to be big. I got the rains. I'm running this rig.
By Erik ubbink4 years ago in Poets
Walking uptown
blazing hair and silver fishies stormy blue eyes filled with wishes A city made out of strays is vicious The way they bang the door to misses
By Burnout4 years ago in Poets
How Silent is Time. Top Story - August 2022.
How silent is time as she peeks in the crib another slave born to laugh and to mourn crafted in wisdom from dust and from rib.
By Smallbrook4 years ago in Poets
Body High
This is not the end, not until both of us are dead, this isn’t all just in my head. It’s a body-high. I was caught so off my guard, I tried to mend my broken heart, that’s my magic, pick a card.
By Desmond Razzano4 years ago in Poets