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 rainbow at my door”
“A rainbow at my door” There was a rainbow at my door That I didn’t ask Amazon for, After a noon lightning came a thundering storm,
By Mel Jackson5 years ago in Poets
The Image you See.
The image you see is never me, it's what you perceive to be, You don't feel like me, you feel like you, you do not know me, I do not know you, not the way we need to. I see as I do and I feel everything, even more, you did not see me, that much I'm sure. The messy reflection you see is me, down deep, the darkness goes from my head all the way to my feet, Yet I'm trying so hard to be really complete. I struggle to just breathe. What I see isn't even all of me, it's scars that run deep, into my skin as I die awake in sin, my own guilt silences what also lies within, what I see and what was happening, for my own guilt was the only wrong doing. So I see an incomplete, yet complete me, while you perceive what you wish me to be, according to what you've seen, messy reflection or clean. Which one am I supposed to see.
By Journey215 years ago in Poets
Orange
Orange by Rasheeda Norris Orange hues. Like the sunset. I definitely have many moods. I honestly feel more blue. Because I am.......
By Rasheeda Norris5 years ago in Poets
here i am, pony nicole
I'm sure when my love comes, it'll be big and bright Constellations of kisses A shooting star reaching all the way from my mouth to my stomach
By Pony Nicole Herauf5 years ago in Poets
A Moth to a Prism
Long-wavering light tilts in from the east, wobbly, and shy, but bolstered by shorter tempers. At full strength, through straightforward panes,
By Savannah Stoehr5 years ago in Poets
My Little Corner
In my little corner of the world, Everyone is respected Respected no matter who they are Because it is expected * Color of skin?
By Julie Lacksonen5 years ago in Poets
Solid
If you are the smudge of dirt that rinses off, easy, with a few drops of soap, then I am the berry-dark splash of wine that mars the fabric irreparably.
By Savannah Stoehr5 years ago in Poets
We Are All A Rainbow
We are all a rainbow colorful and bright We are all a rainbow shining in the sky Sometimes we are red, angry til the days end
By Danielle Williams5 years ago in Poets
Anti-grav
Gravity is a bitch. He is a tyrant, deigning to dictate where my foot should fall, and how hard, and that it should at all.
By Savannah Stoehr5 years ago in Poets
Pigmented Moods
Blinding White when I wake up Brown the coffee in my cup, Sugary Pink are the lips I kiss Turquoise sea it's the only thing I miss.
By Mimi Mollica5 years ago in Poets
Wicked Wicker Kings
As I slept I dreamt a dream, a dream that was itself a dream; Beneath an empty sky stretched blighted fields before me — Boundless to the east; Specked with fires — poor heavenly echoes,
By Garrett Warren5 years ago in Poets
Singing the blues at last
I wanted a voice of warm furry brown so my songs would be soft to touch but instead it was blue and not even dark and that didn't impress me so much. Then I wished for a face that would do as it should and make smiles and expressions that fit but instead 'resting bitch face' was all that I got and I didn't like that - not a bit. It has taken me years of alone time and tears to be comfortable just to be me, in my own special space with my unruly face and my voice that's as blue as the sea.
By Mi Brenton5 years ago in Poets