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.
Back Ended
Back Ended I don’t want to disappoint you and say I’ll be around. Because in order to remain focused I have to cry out loud.
Charelle LandersPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSimple Power
A witch’s power Is her word. * Every line and rhyme An incantation * Speaking into existence The life I’ve grown for myself,
PRESSURE
Pressure’s there It’s everywhere Don’t care to be really fair Mindset strong all along…. Handled that oh yes with care No more stopping payed the fare
Haychie_ArtistPublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Symphony of Purple
A symphony of colors, in purples manifold. Beyond the surface shades, where deeper meanings hide, Let's explore the colors of purple, where emotions coincide.
Kailee phillipsPublished 6 months ago in PoetsEnchanted Woodlands
In the heart of the enchanted wood, where ancient trees stand tall, A world of wonder and magic, where nature rules o'er all.
Kailee phillipsPublished 6 months ago in PoetsInevitable
The beast sleeps, breathing deeply, snoring loudly - at peace within the dirt of its home. But the wintry air must cease,
Amanda StarksPublished 6 months ago in Poetsremoval
i doodle to pass time, to relieve my tension, or to dispel fear. but these last few pages i have fixated on an image i can not release.
Foiled Again
Evolved dorsal convexities Involve ventral concavities Bilaterally frame the headwinds Forward-forcing æther's airfins Differentially
Gerard DiLeoPublished 6 months ago in PoetsLeaves They Fall
Leaves they fall all around Wind flowing, a gentle sound Once alive Saying good bye Coming to an end “Until we meet again my friend”
Sidney SmithPublished 6 months ago in Poets- Top Story - October 2023
Erubescence
Rayna was obsessed with the colour Red Tristan badly wanted to lock her in wed He took a knife to his heart She stopped to admire the art
Dharrsheena Raja SegarranPublished 6 months ago in Poets Corduroy Joy
Corduroy Joy didn’t know she was a toy She thought she was like every other girl or boy She laughed and played all day And at night she laid in her bed
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsNot All Death is Physical
Not all death is physical Sometimes “living” is nothing more than a ritual A thing we do to get through the day Dragging ourselves from one event to another
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in Poets