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.
Deep darkness
I inhaled reality and exhaled a temporary mental vacation, dissecting stress in forms of foreign swaying trees that cooled my skin to the touch on humidity-filled days. This deep darkness that has consumed me lately has taken me out of touch with my physical. Almost remote, heading towards the Twilight Zone. Everything seemed nonsensical. The ominous clouds conveyed omniscient whispers on the path I stood. This darkness swayed my feet like I was hanging on for dear life on a human-sized pendulum. Off balance, dark thoughts pressed into me, revealing my pessimism. Why me?? My mind would obliterate all optimism, dispelling them into my mental wastebasket. A shell of myself, I would await the precipitation to no avail. When it abruptly occurs, I stand frozen, between rain drops, not wet at all. My skin doesn't recall the feeling of being drenched because this darkness has kept me shrouded in its hideous wings of shelter. The warm rays of sunlight are taken for granted as I arise each day with more deep darkness awaking my spirit with an internal alarm clock. When will it end? I couldn't answer this question as I search aimlessly for the light switch.... or the light at the end of the tunnel.
By Eliman Jeng5 years ago in Poets
Following Sisi
Following Sisi, my childhood was wild. The forests were my friend, the sun and the wind, my joy. Following Sisi I climbed on horseback as soon as I could walk and charged through forests, flying over fences deep in the wilderness. Submerged in nature I communed with maples and firs, snakes and frogs and escaped into pristine lakes. Rebellious and headstrong, I could not be tamed.
By Maureen Kellar-Kirby5 years ago in Poets
Starting Over
As the overcast sky looms over the sparse landscape, a feeling of peace invades, followed by a sense of suffocation and dread. Uncertainty floods my mindscape, drowning me in the realization of the cessation of another life. I pause. Standing here at the confluence of the past and future, in this junction, we call the present.
By Llwyd L. Brenin5 years ago in Poets
What’s behind the smile
You can’t jusdge a book by its cover is what I’ve always heard. Or no matter how tough it get u gotta keep moving forward. You may pass by someone and think all is well and good. Because they always smile and seem happy no matter how their mood But what if they’re not and the smoke is fake. What if they prayed if in the morning they didn’t wake. What if there felt no one cares at all What if self harming was in their thoughts. So remember to always take time To look much deeper than the smile and make sure everything is good cause sometimes people are misunderstood!
By Mindy allen5 years ago in Poets
By The Lights of Cyrian
Over the last few days I have been getting a physical feeling , I don’t know how to describe. My Muse asked me to tell her what it was and I couldn’t, I had no words for it. I know what was causing it . My love for her. It makes me feel good , I am feeling it now , but cannot describe it. Then I played “Seventeen Going Under” by Sam Fender (video at the end, watch it , filmed close to where I live and the lad is The Shields Springsteen) and that record gets better every time, and I got goose bumps and I got something of that feeling, that is what the love my Muse gives to me feels like, goose bumps without the goosebumps
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 years ago in Poets
