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.

Black and White Reality
After a long hard day I sink To the ground of my closet To watch in a trance The colours play on my screen For awhile they distract me
By Constance Jones5 years ago in Poets
It is only a difference of tint
You think the evil, and the holiest, are not people. That Stalin and Manson are monsters, that Ghandi and Princess Di are angels, whilst all are people, So Stalin, and Princess Di and I am on the same sliding scale. It is just a difference of degree.
By Melody Hoag5 years ago in Poets
Timeless World
A mysterious path crossed over mystic plains. My bible engraved Stone scriptures and beautiful lines of innocence. We escaped time here in this
By Jessica Green5 years ago in Poets
I Am a Rainbow
Blue hair Peach skin Grey eyes None of these belie The rainbow inside As my heart beats In many colors My eyes drink
By Vaughn HM5 years ago in Poets
Why I Write
Take a walk with me Down this street that is in my mind Past the houses, past the sidewalks Past the children's playgrounds and ballparks
By Michelle Devon5 years ago in Poets
The Color Of Ink
I am every shade of ink I've ever used to scribble down these words I keep inside. Poems, stories, songs. Stitched them together until my fingers bled.
By Jessica Green5 years ago in Poets
Blooming
This husk is calm Unmemorable and blank But what lies within, is a mass of untamed vibrance and life It begs to be seen To be known
By Brandy Lara5 years ago in Poets
Confused Colours
So you asked me to write a poem about what makes me unique. Yet be inspired by colours with every word i decide to speak. Well this might be a little difficult as whats unique about me.
By Dominic Nicholson 5 years ago in Poets
Silos on the Spectrum
A golden boy, green with envy, now of age, the silver fox; blue thoughts, red eyes and coats of colours bundled in my big black box.
By Musings of a wandering soul 5 years ago in Poets
Poem: Blanket
Time is a funny thing I'm in your bed Resting my head, where you rest yours It smells the same here My hands are the same
By Jen Eden5 years ago in Poets
Violent Quiet, In Color
Tucked beneath my mattress lies a spectrum for when there is something inside me Slick exterior, filled with loud rumors A place to shed tears of obscurity
By Hannah Riley5 years ago in Poets
Dark
Dark Where does the soul end And the body begin? No need to let the light in For I am comfortable in the shade of my skin.
By Kavina Kumar5 years ago in Poets