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.

Just. just
Just as fables are always told in shades of a phantom gold glimmer through a gaping hole of the very sight we so consciously hold
By Ashley Tong 6 years ago in Poets
Company
I wake up with it Holding my ankle Vibrating and staring Visiting - I’m stuck looking Yelling in my head The human touch
By Bazooka Teaches6 years ago in Poets
My Mother's Hands
I haven't felt my mother's hands for almost 18 years, but here is what I remember... perfectly manicured... bony, but tender...
By Becoming Babs6 years ago in Poets
Monsters
Monsters are bumps in the night. I cannot help but stop and look at the soulless vampirism. Does it make you shiver? Pay attention to the succubus,
By Raven Heidrich6 years ago in Poets
The Artifice Heart
They want your soul And they want your heart They want to know How to tear you apart Break you down to a codex Reworking the wires
By S.W. 6 years ago in Poets
Don't look
the clock rests gently on it's wooden rounded edge, rescued one handed and missing it's number 5. there's no telling what's been reflected in it's glass.
By susan marie loehe6 years ago in Poets
Menopause
Wow, to the changes of A woman’s body. Don’t deny us our Coffee. Mood swings, hot sweats, Angry words, Which we later regret.
By Janelle barker6 years ago in Poets
of this universe
I am calm; my heart beats to the hum of the birds & I sway along with the trees standing steady and tall. I am angry, enraged;
By Hayli Wilson6 years ago in Poets
Holocaust
1941 Adolf Hitler became head of the Germans, Throughout the years, this was determined. Disliking the Jews, he wouldn’t listen, to their views.
By Janelle barker6 years ago in Poets
Red & Black
A passionate kiss upon red lips A rose upon a windowsill Black ringlets down her pale spine Dark eyes shimmering in the moon light
By Raven Heidrich6 years ago in Poets
The Verse
Words can miss me- gone and hard to find. Lost among bags you never packed. They come like waves, showing my chest cavity no mercy. They amerce me. Each letter and syllable needed to produce my public speech sounds like a eulogy before my lips form. Emphasizing knowledge built upon connections, yet my tongue stops short.
By Asya Fields6 years ago in Poets
A World Admired By Me
Close your eyes and open your mind Welcome to a world I see You see a dead but huge tree With a few thousand branches and the powerful light growing from it since it was a seed,
By Goddess Cuervo6 years ago in Poets