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.

A canvas love story
The Paintbrush was searching for answers in the palette, All the colors were so beautiful! Something was missing... But why?
By Sofia Duarte5 years ago in Poets
cardinal pixels
red eyes on red lists laid by a chrome stethoscope a spectrum of bleeps - protocols read out fall on muted ears and screens
By Ernest5 years ago in Poets
40% of humans, 71% of the world, 60% of you.
blue is the favourite colour of the world, with most humans answering the question: what is your favourite colour? with a simple, unaffected, almost robotic answer of "blue".
By Elizabeth Wright5 years ago in Poets
Colors I Embodied
Pink was used to describe me before I came from the womb, Who would have known it would be the very tomb that would hold me captive,
By Julian Rosas5 years ago in Poets
crashed my car
process trauma in the nude love too much, too soon i lay in my bed like a patient in a hospital hot bath, cool sheets pulled down by the universe beneath
By Kennedy Wright 5 years ago in Poets
Dream House
Entering this house feels familiar. I know it well. The damp and cold smell goes through me like a ghost. It’s dark and empty, on the side of a road. Far away from everyone and everything. A lonely old cube with neglected gardens all around. I can see it from the inside. It looks sad and I recognise this sadness. Suddenly, I see people outside. With guns. I think they are snipers. They’re here for me. But I know how to escape. Through the basement, out the small window at the bottom of the back wall. They will never see me leave. I run up the hill near the house. I see more snipers. And a woman, wearing a navy-blue trench coat, talking to them. She’s in charge. I run past them. They don’t see me. I stop, surprised. I am right next to them. They keep watching the house. I turn around to look at it too.
By w_d_5 years ago in Poets
Two Shades
Thou shant recognize my contractions dousing me in orange and red I beg thee, disregard them as overreactions If only thou felt them instead.
By Luke Powell5 years ago in Poets
The White Room
Welcome to the White Room If anything is needed I am here to assist you May comfort and happiness prevail without issue Before the Host arrives
By D A Kross5 years ago in Poets
Blue
Sometimes I’m blue Like the waves of the sea Sometimes I’m yellow Like the sun and lemon trees I know what is true Like a compass in me
By KK5 years ago in Poets
altera in vita
dirt. the dirt i woke up in had been laid there for me. i yawned and in return, the wind pat me on the back as a mother does for reassurance. i never knew that feeling before. i was asleep, but my soul had never felt more awake. dirt filled my palms and the world came alive. i didnt know if it was dusk or dawn, it was hard to make out the colors of the sky with all the nature blocking my view. bushy and opulent greenery surrounded the dead end path i lay. a stone wall, mossy, separates me from the opulence. my clothes are scarce, just a thin silk robe lazily draped over my laying body. barefoot, i let my body feel the soil underneath. it was more than just feeling, i felt as if the oxygen i didnt need anymore was exchanged for the earth beneath my feet. soft, cool like sand. but it doesnt make me feel dirty. the air is foggy and dense, but the wind makes it feel like a glass of water in the desert. perfect.
By Kendall B5 years ago in Poets
Fiya
When I see u , the heat inside rise, I , no matter how high, must open my eyes , to the bright light fiery queen before me , I see u deeper than a x ray, yo vibez send radiated passions my way, I try to say if I may sway u away , lay u a bed of flower petals fire side , and feel your body heat as we warm up the night skys so much, we force the sun to rise , out of jealousy /Telling myself that this could be the reason a for loving , the warmth of the feeling that it's mutual , I'll let you know I know what you want me to do, to break away the ice storm of your heart, stroke your pussy till we create sparks, or just talk , heated debates on how to eliminate the hate between us, I hate when u away and I how can we improve our trust, I hate the times we wastes, being exposed to the cold, till we froze , show the hate of foolish past lovers, who never could rise above us, the level we on , the mode we set , it's a coalition of two , just me and you.
By Derrick Anthony Strong5 years ago in Poets
Gone a wandering
I had a ‘wandering through the City day’ deciding a visit to the Brisbane City Council Library was in order. A time for reading, writing and contemplation supported by an internal environment that I find inviting. Not clinical and alienating as described by friends preferring the warmth of alternative design.
By Pauline Fountain5 years ago in Poets