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.

Sweet Fruit
When the breath catches, the back arches And time becomes a veil Nothing can take that away, and my lovers, Oh how they float between time
By Grey 4 years ago in Poets
Gary Colemans Coffin
i'm the bloke who put up the no running sign on the wall in the amputee recovery ward i put razors in lollies and let them lay where they will
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
Steer the Sea
Salty the night fear blooming in meadow disdain, forgiveness mingle and dance step into nightmare, up in dreams, come back, tiptoe
By Amy Christie4 years ago in Poets
Nature Therapy
Stardust lingers in the piercing sun, suspended, like a spirit after it has left the body; incandescent fleck, aloof, illuminated,
By Sara Wynn4 years ago in Poets
The Gift of Morpheus
‘Like a shivering cold turkey’ is what they, The consequences I must pay, There is too much pain, too overwhelming! The solution is in my pocket waiting,
By Vakhiya B4 years ago in Poets
Reborn
So what happens when we die? Does it matter if we try To be good folks, if the soul’s purified - Destined to thrive?
By Angela Dykhuis 4 years ago in Poets
Other Noises
sometimes i hear noises when no-one’s around i hear quite clearly some faint distant sound an echo, a footstep alone in the dark
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
The Elken Wolf in the Waking Glen
This is an experimental piece, one that blends dream journalling with poetry in some form. If there’s enough interest, I’ll make this a regular and/or recurring format on my profile; if not, I may still do so from time to time, if there’s enough motivation to do so.
By Orion J. Zed4 years ago in Poets
Buried Alive
i claw at the inside of my coffin lid choking on my own exhaled waste this would appear to be my demise the end: in my mouth;
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
No doubt, you are my portal out
No doubt, you are my portal out. We'll do plenty of summersaults in raining skittles, back-to-back, we'll scale up tight ally walls of hardened Jell-O,
By Rowan Finley 4 years ago in Poets
From above
I wake up and don’t know where I am. I look down from what seems to be a balcony and see some people; but these people are so small.
By Noah Douglas4 years ago in Poets
The Noisy Room
I wake up and see two doors available to me; the first is a room filled with people and the second one seems empty- I navigate into the one with people in it.
By Noah Douglas4 years ago in Poets