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.

color
I feel as though I’m living in black and white most of the time. I feel as though I’m in a silent film most of the time,
By Alaina Bates5 years ago in Poets
I Paint My Face
I Paint My Face, To Share My Pain I Paint My Face, To Feel Sane I Paint My Face, So They Can See I Paint My Face, Because Just Me...
By Loot5 years ago in Poets
Futitlity
Battered, blistered,bashed and boiled, I am still here. My story is no more important than yours, I refuse to give in, I will fight it all. My time here is a constant struggle. I have no idea why I would want to continue, except that I am compelled so to do.
By Eveline Bright5 years ago in Poets
Black Is My Color
I let the color shine off me and glow I used it in my journey to grow But, life will take you towards the unexpected road
By M.K Jonae5 years ago in Poets
Gesso
Empty containers rattle at my feet like so many bones My hands open another jar of black gesso Upon the lid I write the name of this newest person in my life
By Angelica Farraro5 years ago in Poets
Darkness
opening my eyes you are all that I see Glistening with silver colors, the smell of red crisp apples the transparent wind blowing ocasional kisses on my cheeks
By Eliza Diaz5 years ago in Poets
The Mystery Box
What a story, but a silent one indeed. You see my ideas marinating on your dinner plate, yet visualize eating the cure to your silence.
By Kantshens5 years ago in Poets
Sacrifice
Give me bread And some water I'll lay my head on the block You can have my neck My people have a crop Food to eat There's mouths to feed
By Kody Penno5 years ago in Poets
this water is medicine
drink this water is clean this water is medicine medicine because it breathes it is a she and a him a living shape she is profound and
By Sarah Snider5 years ago in Poets
I am the color.
You know the color right after a storm? The one that sounds like tranquility and looks like damp tulips peeking out from a weed filled garden. Some days, I am that hue.
By Bri Dean5 years ago in Poets
The Color Blue
Blue wraps my skin As I look up on the Earth’s sky How I ponder it’s deception Within my minds eye Yet it’s a beautiful conception
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)5 years ago in Poets
Correction
Every time I remember it I nail it to a wall and draw a thick red circle around it in permanent marker. I draw arrows pointing to the circle and punctuate them with full stops. Full stop. Full stop. Full stop. An exclamation mark ❗️ or three, stating “look - here it is. Stamp your mind with it and remember”
By Monica Hardy5 years ago in Poets