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.

Bitter Rainbow
I am Grey, like the dawn of an overcast day As you soon come to realize the kaleidoscope beyond my eyes As I start my days, I long for beautiful sun rays
By Lynn Weston5 years ago in Poets
All Different Shades of Grey
I go by Lor Weaver the Grey. My aura is of silver moonlight. Though I have no troubles with my Vision I don't let Color change my Sight.
By Lor Weaver5 years ago in Poets
Theme in Half Green/Kind of Blue
I hear Modes of melody In the fallen leaves Sweeping in the wind With halfway colors Once a tonic center green And the blue in me
By Lukas Hawley5 years ago in Poets
Verdant
In the mirror, I scrutinize my face, all the while knowing it resembles yours. The razed skin, a perfect metaphor for the shift between despair and hopefulness.
By Alena Fletcher5 years ago in Poets
Lifebook
I began in blackness, Like the soft cover of this Moleskine notebook I hold between the small rosy fingers Of my left hand.
By Andrea Jardine5 years ago in Poets
Triptych // Chooser
When we were young we would borrow from each other meaningful things: a rock in the shape of an arrowhead, or a time-charged Pokémon card, more valuable than any heirlooms that came our way
By Alfie Farrow5 years ago in Poets
Sugar Glass
Let's watch bees on Mars wearing armor the color of an oil slick. Rainbows do not appear where innocence is encapsulated, they appear wherever light arranges itself particularly, speaking to your optic nerves; or rather to say that nature does not replicate goodness or evil, nature only replicates itself,
By Eva Bertoglio5 years ago in Poets
Orange Ya Glad
Colors can be used to describe people, And there is a special kind of beauty in that. Maybe it’s their aura or maybe it’s something more.
By Kymber Keaton5 years ago in Poets
Alien Grey
They don’t like me because I don’t fit in. Because they want a mirror and I’m not like them. They don’t understand that I am an alien grey. And, no matter what it looks like, I can never be what they say.
By James Power5 years ago in Poets
Hue & Me - a colorful self-portrait
My eyes are blueish-green depending on what I'm wearing and how I feel that day about assigning meaning to objectively meaningful things.
By Gabrielle Neavin5 years ago in Poets
Hint
We are hiding in small corners, Living life unseen, But, Our lights are growing. For although this world, Is hidden in shadows,
By Edlin Marie5 years ago in Poets
Maroon depths
Shades of maroon vary, From a bluish hint in a ripe cranberry, To the purplish hue in the sleekest new shoes. , but how do I compliment?
By Bree Webster5 years ago in Poets