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.

A Place
I know that there is a place after life here on earth for those who to choose to believe A place where we can meet new friends and
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous5 years ago in Poets
Oh Little Beilig
Now have ye heard of Oh Little Beilig, The wee girl of Brachenbrok Moor. In the day she is nowhere in sight, But frolic she does so in the night.
By Andrew J.P Lord5 years ago in Poets
FLAWS
I want to write things as if they were my last poems, final things in my brain, words keeping me sane like blood in veins. These words seem like the only way out. I want my words to feel what I feel sometimes. Would these words be able to make anyone think of me?
By laraib fatima5 years ago in Poets
A Case Of The Silly’s
I awoke this morning in a daze Checked my phone, it’s Sunday, I don’t seem to have any memory Of what I did at all on Saturday.
By Colleen Millsteed 5 years ago in Poets
Part 2: Pain.
Strawberry wine. Its warmth, so divine. Another few swallows, And she knows she'll be fine.... At least till her sorrows,
By Faith Mckie5 years ago in Poets
Naked Mind Go "Yum"
Let’s all get up and go now Running, stumbling, strolling, rolling, tripping, and folding underneath the city. The underbelly is full of wondrous wastelands that make the naked mind go, “yum”.
By Anthony Dahm5 years ago in Poets
Griot
---I am Griot© a pop rocks culture shaman-nomenon ...remember? Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parades? the black tribal mask skull floating float---
By Barb Snodgrass5 years ago in Poets
Not Condoned Dreams Of The Damned…
I hear them chant as it all comes crumbling down. The taste of my own blood is oh so bland. I don’t know where I was or where I am.
By Chris Montray’s Bent Logic5 years ago in Poets
Tale of the Ghost
I have been pounded upon and plied against, yet I am not the steel of the world. On some hard day I may have been too abrasive,
By Daniel Charles Porter5 years ago in Poets
Late at Night
I lie awake upon this bed You’re the only thought within my head To cradle you beneath my arms Helpless to all your little charms
By Asher Fenix5 years ago in Poets
Watch Tower
God in heaven watching Evangelists and Evolutionists Holding the answers to creation seductively out of reach Glimpses revealed on a whim
By Jan Portugal5 years ago in Poets
Desire for Originality
Without the desire for originality, I could have written you a poem As searing and hot as a flame. Without the desire for originality,
By John Welford5 years ago in Poets