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.

Tomorrow
Tomorrow There is a boy, who waits for tomorrow, for the sun to rise and usher their siblings to sleep, for the bus to arrive and take him away,
By Mike Huynh5 years ago in Poets
june
angry june of i only want to care better but can’t make myself into something not broken. the universe is the stone that water eats and everything requires
By Thomas Mattson5 years ago in Poets
Paradoxical Amphibians
Their numbers grow bimonthly on Tuesday evenings, Tiny beings of glimmering scales Whose colours grow in prismatic rhythms under the Sun.
By Laureline Landry5 years ago in Poets
The First & The Last
The First & The Last All the stars are fading now their shells burn bitter cold and as the last of their old flame burns out
By Veris Marock5 years ago in Poets
A Name Forgotten
This poem in song: Something Insane https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNFb9FnD3hk In heavy darkness Past echoes shimmer Outlines of their reach draw me
By Karen Eastland 5 years ago in Poets
To the Thief
TO THE THIEF I know you. And I see you. I have caught all your cues. You have lined them up like pews. Dropping them one after the other like morning dew.
By Em Hoccane5 years ago in Poets
Dreaming Of Sandcastles
I close my eyes the sun feels warm on my skin Footsteps on sand leave behind me a silent trace Come look for me and let this journey begin
By Elena Athon5 years ago in Poets
Gilded Summer
Summer sleep evades my weary soul still Like a drinking bee. It surely mocks me! Be the chomping silky bride dressed and chill
By Raissa Dassel5 years ago in Poets
On my Deathbed
On My Deathbed. Flaky lips, chapped hands, pale face and closed teary eyes, Here I am on my deathbed, envisaging you for the one last time.
By kd Hoccane5 years ago in Poets
Just a Caress of Love
Just A Caress of My breath stuck
By kd Hoccane5 years ago in Poets
Blood Bought Freedom
Combat not seen by most of our eyes, Most ears are foreign to someone’s last cry. A human; a friend, a partner who died, To keep you, I, and the American dream alive.
By Hannah Hooper5 years ago in Poets
I'm no Genius
I'm no Genius I'm no genius that spent his time for innovations But no dumb, neither.
By kd Hoccane5 years ago in Poets