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.
The Pretty Pink Pill
I lean my forehead against the cool exterior of the fridge door. At around 5 AM, I tore my blanket off the bed, after deciding that the inevitable, insomniacious, dance in the sheets was not worth the panic that comes to me in the dark. I stacked my flimsy, old pillows against the wall in my kitchen - my stringent kitchen - and plugged in my lamp, the one that glows a unique kind of gold.
Jamie RamsayPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSenses
The texture A feeling A pleasure appealing The moment Is savored The memories Remembered A touch, taste Or sensory
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Fluidity Of Beauty
* A face as smooth as porcelain with eyes dark as the night The moon asks her permission to shine on her, his light
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSomething New
Is this what you wanted all along? To sing and make songs? To let time fly. Time to fly. Without wings to reach high? Too shy?
James GreenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Universal Question
What am I doing here? Is not a Question only to be asked at 3 A.M. An Opportunity! To grasp a Reflection of the Big Bang.
Unrelenting - Home on the Strange
I filled a tumbler of Jack Dove in without looking back Your memory tried to surface for air I grabbed it fully by the nape and hair
Andrew C McDonaldPublished 6 months ago in Poetscurrent
lulled by surge and crash the hands of the changing winds pull upon my sails -------------------------- Thank you for reading!
R.I. KárolyPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSeamless Transformations
I wonder if the raindrop feels its transition into a snowflake Fragile, subtle beauty forms as the warmth silently escapes
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 6 months ago in Poetspunctuation
I dont have punctuation It always bothered me Not simply because I could not master it Nor because I didnt want it to master me
Christopher ZacharyPublished 6 months ago in PoetsLove Story
In the garden of the heart, love blossoms so brilliantly, A brilliant sun that exiles the most obscure evening. It moves in the twilight, murmurs in the breeze,
Golden Gaze
Streaming into the sights of sore eyes You welcome in the day of extraordinary solace The season has brought you down, your hope is shining in the room
Mason DarniellePublished 6 months ago in Poets- Top Story - November 2023
Mark the Calendar
Mark the calendar because it's been another day, and I think we can make it. * Remind me, even without words,
Sam Eliza GreenPublished 6 months ago in Poets