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.

Titan Felling
Fighting a giant's like climbing a mountain, Or planning nefarious crime; There's no more to a fight than just bite after bite,
By Drew Dunlop5 years ago in Poets
Reflection
The brief, flash of mirrored light from across the fountained-pond hit my eyes with a spark of memory. Wait. It was channeling and remembering each life moment as if it were the very first to be considered; perceived well and welcomed with open and accepting wings. Carrying these moments with the care of the pure, startling stork delivering a newborn who was once a thought, a grand idea from two human beings.
By Raissa Dassel5 years ago in Poets
It’s All Connected
It all connects. Every emotion, from the right to the left, from the east to the west in each.
By Jensyn Noell5 years ago in Poets
Intricate Self
The complexities of the Universe are endless. The limitless God of the Galaxies knows no bounds. My thoughts, my words, my actions,
By Jensyn Noell5 years ago in Poets
Midnight Army
I actually worked on this poem before I got really into steampunk. (Most of my published short fiction can be found in steampunk collections.) But now, that is all I picture when I read this, and I wish I were an animator so I could bring it to life.
By Crysta Coburn5 years ago in Poets
Yoga-tation
Inhale; exhale, So the lung air doesn’t stale. In through the nose; out throw the mouth, Letting the body settle down. Fill your lungs with fresh air,
By Hannah Hooper5 years ago in Poets
Resilience
My basil-green leaves sprout from sandy soil, a deep vein of emerald grooving along the thick, padded spade. My paddles navigate sage- and olive-tinted desert dunes.
By Lynda Daneliuk5 years ago in Poets
Hot Pink
Plastic Flamingos, flocking in my trailer park I’m talking ‘bout my friends, we’ve flown so far from Arkansas We had to fly away, out west to California
By Logan Inkanish5 years ago in Poets
Green Eyes
In the center of the meadow In the far edges of the reef Something stares and lurches There is a view coming from the deep
By Rana5 years ago in Poets
All is left to dust and ash.
When the land is torn asunder, and the rain would not heed the call, Where desolation consumes the parched earth, and the hopes of men would fall,
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Poets
Returning For Her
No, don't turn there. She walks through that steam-filled and dank alleyway, disappearing briefly as I follow the smell of her hair.
By Jason Morton5 years ago in Poets
Smoke and Mirrors
Learn to read between the lines. You're not looking in and out, up and down, one way and the other. Consider that...reality is tangible, in the way your visceral nature commands. Do you feel?
By Camilla Siig5 years ago in Poets