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.
Three Senryus
Angel The ancient laughter of archaic trumpets flow from the angel’s mouth Spirit Eternity veils souls to the shadows of the
Hank MoodyPublished 7 months ago in PoetsCoWarDice
I hate cowards. I hate to see cowardice absorb the mind and body of someone capable of accomplishment, far less excellence. What a waste, what a bitter disappointment; a receptacle for genius, a conduit for the ineffable excellence choosing to channel frailty instead.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsLove or Stockholm Syndrome
Was it love or Stockholm Syndrome You always kept me home I never realized it ‘til now How bad you were for me I thought I loved you
Atomic HistorianPublished 7 months ago in PoetsStOrm
I’m up and I’m scrambling. I’m up and trying to make sense of this. This ocean of dizziness. Nothing makes sense yet. Am I up? What am I up from? What am I up t-
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsLiSten
Sometimes I remind myself to listen. When there’s silence, just listen. Listen to the grass growing up trying to brush the sky with its fingertips, to the concrete straining to hold us together, to us trying to be both grass and concrete. If I take a moment I can hear it all. My mind finally in tune to all the things my ears so diligently deliver.
Tarik MurrellPublished 7 months ago in PoetsPoetic Sorrow and Drunkenness
In the tavern's dim-lit haze, I drown in sorrow's sea, A drunkard lost in memories, aching, can't find ease. Each glass, a bitter refuge, each sip a silent plea, To wash away the sadness, to set my spirit free.
Javel samuelsPublished 7 months ago in PoetsRose Prison
Locked away in a garden of thorns, A rose prison, where beauty mourns. Petals stand as bars, delicate yet strong, Their fragrance trapped, their song so cold.
Amy ChristiePublished 7 months ago in PoetsGoes Without Saying
Nights have matured from repairs of wear-and-tear To respite that supersedes Mere maintenance In each sleep's pause and paws of limited days left
Gerard DiLeoPublished 7 months ago in PoetsSomewhere I know...
Somewhere I know... Sometimes, I think about leaving, Not once in a while, But all the time. "Where are you going?" My ticking bomb ask,
Searching On Bended Knee
walking thoughtlessly coin in hand one false step flipping end over end clanging edge on edge into a glass punch bowl though you see it flip skyward
K.B. SilverPublished 7 months ago in PoetsWhispers Amongst the Tombstones
In the stillness of the moon's soft glow, Where the tombstones stand in silent row, The graveyard's mournful serenade begins to play,
Bianca LanePublished 7 months ago in PoetsCosmic Conversations
In the vast expanse of cosmic realms, Where stars ignite and comets roam, There lies a planet, unique in its form, A delicate home, battered and worn.
Animal ClubPublished 7 months ago in Poets