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.
My Hill
I sat upon the hill looking down at the battle that ensued. I could hear the swords clashing like that of thunder. The screams of the men below were carried on the wind as it gently blew through my hair. The grass felt like soft furs between my fingertips as I ran my fingers across it. Men and horses made their way through the battlefield some stumbling on the bodies of their comrades and that of their enemies. My finger pricked by a small thistle as my hand had glided dangerously close to the prickly plant. A small dot of crimson formed upon my finger as a man was cut deeply by a metal thistle of his own making. I sucked on the small wound and looked to the sky. The sun was bright and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. A perfect day.
By Christopher Foster4 years ago in Poets
