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.
lonely ship
No, this is not just words. This is a whirlwind of emotions. A hurricane of fears and doubts That engulfs a young woman in its relentless vortex.
cuenta principalPublished 6 months ago in PoetsMeowing at the Moon
R.I.P. Simon, you'll always be in my heart. I These cats lived together in a house on a shore They were raised by me and they were just so young
Happiness Can Hurt
What no one told me when I started healing is that happiness can hurt and a bitter heart is terribly familiar.
Sam Eliza GreenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsIrreparable
Shivers climbing up my spine mingling self-doubt with regret Taking back what once was mine using my best tricks to forget
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSilent waves
Fine lines so burnished, it blurs into the image the two become one, with no effort, at all No words are needed, can't be contained in a language
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsBullets of art
-Art is a delicate entity. One simply doesn't wake up and come up with the best art. -Art is not a habit or a routine one can conform to.Art is simply art. Nothing satisfyingly defines it better.
Eastern TwelvePublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Illusion Of Smooth
Puddles of glass Mirror like, Line my driveway Potholes Deeply, dappled Like connect the dots I sway and I swerve
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in Poetson that side: 2
It just never really made sense to me. I'm just going to do my time and when I get out I'm going to do what I feel is best for me. Because at the end of the day, it's my life. As much as I would love the support, it would not be the end of the world if they weren't on my side all the way throughout my journey. My art teacher is one of my biggest inspirations she always encourages me to bring out my creative side. She believed I could get the job done even when I don't think I can.
andor rosenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsRegrets
3 February, 2022, night Regrets Crowded days Lonely nights I wish you were by my side *** Stroke of night Hold me tight
on that side: 1
I've always wanted to have a career in entertainment. Whether it be online. like YouTube and such, or acting on TV and movies. I tell my family all the time about my dreams. My siblings support me. But my parents want me to do something more practical, like go to school and get a degree so I can get a job. But I really don't want to do that. I didn't go to high school for 4 years, hated every single second of it btw, just to get out and go for four more to get a job that I don't even want.
andor rosenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsA Guide to Rocking Cold Resistant Gloves
Hey folks, ready to tackle winter head-on? It's that time of the year when the air gets crisp, and the cold starts nipping at your fingertips. But don't sweat it – we've got your back with the lowdown on cold resistant gloves. Let's break it down, find out what makes 'em tick, and get you set for a cozy winter.
My Love Letter to You
True to my core, I feel so deeply and you would never know a quarter of it. I am shamefully sensitive, however icy my countenance. I absorb every sweet notion committed in my orbit and it never leaves me. When reflecting on my life, my hyper critical nature replays every mistake and relives every unfortunate or embarrassing moment. I also see those seconds taken out of one’s day to kiss beautiful words into the wind, piercing the oxygen flowing in my direction. The time anyone takes to send me anything so starkly wipes out any “can you…” request I have ever received. I wish I could accurately honor or express how immensely every compassionate, generous, thoughtful gesture effects me. The profoundness can be strangling, but so can the sombering pain. The highs cannot be acknowledged without the sting of the lows, and as someone who both feels so deeply and can be so detached, I can never quite convey just how confounding it can all feel. The whirl I am tangled in feels outstanding. However, I noticed, it is something intangible that I more often feel grateful for than I loathe. I will revisit this and cringe at how dramatic it all feels in two days time, but when someone laughs at my sarcasm, embraces me, serves me a warm meal without a word or tells me I do not need to apologize for them voluntarily lending a hand, my heart will soar and weep with the incredulity of this life I lead. I glance at my texts and I see a thread from a lost family member. Instantly I recall the most vulnerable conversations shared with all of those lost. I realize how lucky I am to have experienced that, to experience those people, those moments in time. Small moments making themselves large and irrevocable in my heart, in my mind. How did I ever manage to form such a beautiful, lasting fortress around me?
Dakota Love DanglerPublished 6 months ago in Poets