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.
Fortress
Fortress. I see it that way, with heavy doors and gate keepers, well, the bouncers, pulling glass doors with an extra grunt.
Untitled
Like Aphrodite’s perilous steps that found her fallen in the traps of love Adonis was whitened flesh, Deceased delicacy, bipolarity, in gentle
Lunaneres /Published 7 years ago in PoetsBranded
Spare the rod, and spoil the run- look into my eyes, and fall- entranced from staring at the sun, we burned the writing
Ron WalkerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFollow
Are we to see the world through the eyes of our leaders or with the souls of our ancestors? Is there a time when we close the doors of brainwash and open the journals of truth?
Dawn IrenePublished 7 years ago in PoetsLoves Betrayal
Love's Betrayal Disgrace, guilt, shame, pity, and sorrow. Happiness, joy, peace, reverence, and gratitude. All pass in moments too small to measure. Just as the whole of our lives are mere glimpses.
On Choice and Its Nature
The gray and bitter stay that way by choice and I believe that we all know the worst and so we know the best for everything, there is an opposite
pasha alekseyevPublished 7 years ago in PoetsA Subtlety of the Mechanism
Endeavour to venture, Beyond the sense of pretence, Through the lamina of the animal, And out of your shell, To identify with momentum;
George JossePublished 7 years ago in PoetsMahe Storm
Layers of blues and greys, Interweave and interline, Effervesce and intertwine. Chalky horizons of crayola greys Of fingerpainted clouds and tormented waves
Kate RothwellPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Technique of Paper in a Martini
Scraps of paper in a hat, paying royalties like dreams, seemingly random in human expression. As he sipped his scraps of paper in a hat,
Alter Ego
Behind the glass, reflectively. I see a man standing there who looks like me. But something is not right. Not all of the pieces fit the same.
Paul CrockerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsParadox
A song unheard, a story untold, Yet sheer splendor to behold. All the nook and corners of art gallery, Speak volumes of artistic bravery.
Creative HubPublished 7 years ago in PoetsCreature of the Night
Creature of the night As darkness falls upon the night The moon it shines so bright So not to be seen in the street light
Pearl AllenPublished 7 years ago in Poets