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.

Diaries of a Knucklehead
I remember when I used to skip school just to hit the block and package dimes. Diaries of a knucklehead. Afterschool shootouts and fights—
By savage writer7 years ago in Poets
Mirrors & Reflections
Tell me what you see. Just look at yourself. Covered in blood, wielding guns. Is this the life you want to settle for?
By savage writer7 years ago in Poets
• BLOOM •
My Environment Crumbles. Almost As If Dust Surrounds Me. And As I Seep Through The Pores Of My Own Existence. I Wither Away In The Sun,
By Erica (Joyce) Thompson7 years ago in Poets
If Medusa Was a Modern-Day Woman
If Medusa was a modern-day woman, I imagine she would she would be a part of the MeToo movement. She would be offended by everything, she wouldn’t tolerate catcalling but instead, make those who spouted those disrespectful words turn to stone.
By Kaylee Roberts7 years ago in Poets
Black Bird
What symbolism is at the bottom Of a black bird (raven), Squatting on a half-eaten buffet (The table) long after the dinner has commenced?
By Tom Baker7 years ago in Poets
Undertow
There are waves that pass through me that cause physical pain in remembering. All that has grown inside of me, nurtured by my surroundings, have taken root.
By Small World7 years ago in Poets
The Unrecognized
She stared into the mirror looking at a person she didn’t recognize. A monster, a hideous beast. Who could love someone as such? Lost in her own mind wanting nothing more than to be wanted. Her days begin to grow longer; she wants nothing more than to just rest. To finally be at peace with herself. To be free. Oh why can’t she just be free. Drowning deeper and deeper, her mind was a black hole.
By Reva Brooks7 years ago in Poets
When the World Turns
But then the world turns on its head, and I fly amid celestial bodies still full of wonder after all the ache. Soft hymns waft about my dying vessel as memories fade into the nth dimension. Dreams of jade and turquoise project themselves onto the great black canvas of my soul; one more time for old time's sake.
By A. N. G.7 years ago in Poets
Dreamscape Traveler
Where is God? the formation of words upon the shadows of lips Humbled here we must reach incrementally inching into infinity
By Lana Broussard7 years ago in Poets
Amnesia for Who I Once Was
Another chance squandered and crushed, It feels as if the universe wants me to be hushed, I refuse to let another opportunity escape,
By Mario Castelli7 years ago in Poets
Through the Bog
You see me, all filthy and scarred. You want to help, but you often do not know what to do. It weighs on you, it frustrates you and drives you mad. You cannot be ON all the time, you cannot be perfect all the time, but who can. You want to be tough for me, but even the strongest need their rest.
By A. N. G.7 years ago in Poets
A Ghost's Tale
What is that I see? A pen floating and moving for me? What is there to say? It’s so hard to look away… Flying around is such a sight
By Lauren Armstrong7 years ago in Poets