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.
Dwarven home.
The Innkeeper came in from the backroom to the sound of drunken laughter as she held multiple jugs of ale. “Oi! Lassy! Bring me another one of those will, ye?” A male dwarf asked. “Alright, Mr. Ironfist, alright! Let me finish bringin these two to the other customers, will ye?”the Innkeeper requested. “Alright, boys! The next rounds on me! Or else my name ain’t Garlin Steelweather!” Garlin announced. The dwarves of the inn began cheering. “We need some music!” Let’s get a tune in here, shall we?” Garlin noted. The dwarves began drumming the table as Garlin began singing. “I’m offended,” an Elf on the inn replied. The dwarves started scoffing. “Oh aye! You fair eyed pansies are always offended about something! Do us a favor and go be offended somewhere else!” Garlin noted. The dwarves started laughing as they continued drumming.
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Home is a hole I dug myself.
Synapses pinging like GPS: Lawrence, NY, where the cousins sit Shiva. Ping. Homer, Alaska, cousins praising Jesus for a fishing boat, unsunk. Ping. West Virginia, where a long dry season ends with thunder and coyotes. Ping. Florida. Dad, in brown dress shoes, stepping over a lizard on his way to work. Ping. My mom swims laps in Connecticut while my brother tests the reverb in Nashville and, in Baltimore, another cousin has a beer.
By K L Johnson5 years ago in Poets
