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.

Splashdown
After the parade, The astronaut let her hair grow long And sometimes wore sunglasses While picking up rotisserie chicken for dinner.
By P. D. Murray4 years ago in Poets
Brood Like a Mood or Brood Like a Bird?
Don't forget how you biked the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. You were– in the clouds but distant from them. Plump and pink
By Allison O’Donnell 4 years ago in Poets
Pursuit
Question, Question, ask me a question, An answer I cannot give. Rank yourself high in mercy, Fools gold rendered by the sieve.
By Noah Baldwin4 years ago in Poets
Only when nothing matters, then everything will.
Life has a funny way of playing jokes on us all. When insignificance surrounds us, you will find me sleeping through obscurity.
By douglas woloss4 years ago in Poets
in between this and that
thoughts twice the size of my body racing through cyberspace i don’t know the final destination nowhere to land no safe ground
By Krista Guanlao Sison-Dunlavy4 years ago in Poets
Passive Aggressive
The things we do - indirectly. I’m drawn to this sort of thing, torture. But, I pull myself clear of it. When she shakes my hand, her body is elsewhere,
By FIFE4 years ago in Poets
Pretense
Before the room- Your bated breath, Adorn a look- For all to see. ~ Before yourself- Held to a scale, A fit to make-
By VJHD4 years ago in Poets
A Castaway Of The Sea
There’s an entire city floating under the sea A city made of merpeople, living peacefully, Families loving life, friends enjoying the days
By Colleen Millsteed 4 years ago in Poets
Misleading Perception
I sit back and observe The people and the earth The ways, that are perceived A woman in my own space Not gay, bi, or straight,
By Candace Ranae 4 years ago in Poets
Growing Phase
Wet/Forget Steep steps for a labored exit Fear the edges when the face is hot A half-formed copy, which shames me Though it forms me,
By FIFE4 years ago in Poets
After the Parade
The ground trembles. Rocks rise up from the earth – moist with rain and life - the brook collapses in on itself. Playful light, filled with mirth,
By Beth Sarah4 years ago in Poets
Back to the Mountain
Today, we are travelling to the mountain. My little sister sits in the front seat. I’m in the back. The last time I travelled to the mountain, I sat in the back seat, shouting directions to a redheaded girl as she rolled paper between calloused fingers.
By annie harper4 years ago in Poets