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.

Clay
If my body were clay, I’d be the finest sculptor. I’d work each hour away, The masses my consulter. . They’d tell me what makes art beautiful,
By Becky :)5 years ago in Poets
Sounds of Memories
Once there was a girl who had nothing left to lose. She lost everything. Her parents died one a heart attack another COPD.
By Emily Radford(Rising Phoenix)5 years ago in Poets
a poem about coming home
When does home stop feeling like home? Is it when the gruff men in reflective vests come to cut down the big tree where the woodpeckers and crows
By baby bachio5 years ago in Poets
Tis the season
Tis the season to be jolly Yet I feel the world just twirling All these emotions just floating around People running about
By MICHELLE SMITH5 years ago in Poets
Heart numbed
I was nothing to any of you, from 2011 to 2006, I loved you basement assholes the only way I love my father, I love you guys and you didn't ever appriate it, alot of times, I wished I wasn't wakable and then the wicked game that's been going on forever and so many have copied since them, are actulaly tryin to get me dead. Shit, I know I even gave you head, in MY dead friends bed, not yours but MINE.
By I am me Amanda Nissen/Champion5 years ago in Poets
As I count to Ten
You know this far too well, I should not need to tell. Yet here we stand again, Most certainly not my friend. I laid out my rules,
By Leni Koski5 years ago in Poets
With each other, to reside.
There for him, there for her, Where the heart could then, confer, Heart felt topic, stored inside, With each other, to then, confide,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Encrypted
Encrypted encrypted behavioral analysis journey to space psychoses revealed destruction This is a sci(na)ku tanka, of the form:
By Roxanne Barbour5 years ago in Poets
The Ascension of Descent.
Alone dark and cold, hanging on and releasing at the same time. Could not hang on any longer, strength depleted to its final grasp.
By Jamael Dyck5 years ago in Poets
Leggo of My Eggo; Lego of My Ego; Me-Go, Mmm Ego.
It’s difficult to fathom? Not that fathoming is difficult. Difficultly comes after the fathom. The “Fathom” outside of “Me.”
By Jamael Dyck5 years ago in Poets
Earthquakes
Earthquakes earthquakes magnetic nebula source of weather satellite destruction noncommunication This is a sci(na)ku tanka, of the form:
By Roxanne Barbour5 years ago in Poets
PATH(S)
SPACE MARKS Date 10/11/2021 Time Integration [ 4:55 PM, 5 :13 PM ] Location Shaolin ETERNAL WORDS PATH(s) [Thirty & Two]
By Marcus Romano5 years ago in Poets