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.
Ellipsis and Asterisk
I wish to speak in ellipsis and asterisk Dots and dashes Etcetera to thought crashes That trickled from the words of this mouth
Heather ClimerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSnakedancing
We Evoked the Sacred And Profane… Drank Eachother's Essence Now It is Running Through Our Veins… A Fire that Moves Sensually…
alessandro schiavoniPublished 7 years ago in PoetsRelease
These words stampede across my mind But bleed dry as they hit the page And the animal in my chest beats against her cage So delicate, made of ribs—
Heather ClimerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFreeflow
Spaced out In Her Inner Space… Love is A BloodEmbrace… Grow Roots…Overflow… Conquer Death…Stay Wet… Grow Flowers…ProFound…
alessandro schiavoniPublished 7 years ago in PoetsWindow Pane Reflection
In youth, inverse voyeur, I watched the world; aperture, akimbo legs, a hurdy- gurdy head my camera obscura. Unpinned, black holes for eyes, the world when flipped
Kevin McClintockPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFeel Alive
As you sit underneath the breathing trees And as your soul is caressed by the smell Of sweet mangoes married to the tenderness of the breeze
Kito PeferPublished 7 years ago in PoetsVagary
They say to just start writingAnd the poem writes itself.A vacant smile hides the upset that the poet really felt.And they may only celebrate your work and Hold it high when you are deadBut you'll never break the status quo If you keep it in your head and...
Life of Thou Life of Us
What is this im seeing, I think i ought to be dreaming The marginality of reality Which is the same for everyone but not quite actually.
Mathias CarassusPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Pain of Him!
It was not too long, too near since you left In my selfishness I wanted you to stay, stay I have to let that go, we are all to go
Pamella ReidPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHeart of the Storm
On the cusp of the horizon, scattered storm clouds collect moisture in a rose like pattern, as a shutter of light flashes-
Michael GiglioPublished 7 years ago in PoetsUnwrapping
Tendrils lovingly wrapped around Slowly tightening that which bound Needing the force to come detached Allowing the natural eggs to hatch
Dorn SimonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSystem
You think you have The answer? There's nothing here But time, Headed where I'm Going? You've run into My grind— Running thru my
Ron WalkerPublished 7 years ago in Poets