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.

The Rabbit Hole
He peels back layer after layer, once again He now sees within Scars that ache, a heart that's Always been broken Devoid of skin, he finds a soul
By Shea Matthew7 years ago in Poets
Whisper
I hear soft crying, as I am resting in bed. I can’t seem to open my eyes. The sound of the crying fades away as I hear a gentle whisper say
By GuidedUniverse7 years ago in Poets
The Stairs
What do I have left to offer? Am I a pig that’s off to slaughter? Well-wishing for a better future Doesn’t make this noose looser
By Chris Gacinski7 years ago in Poets
All the World Is Breathing
you're not real, well i'm not either the wax moon melts and we are the fever i know i'm stoned and a sloppy mess but would my heart fit into the hole in your chest
By raegan layne7 years ago in Poets
The Dream Hunt
The dogs are after me First there was just one, a little slow I stay ahead of it, breaking for the building. But then, in some trees, I see the silhouette of another.
By R. G. Reidburn7 years ago in Poets
Wind Messenger
I rest, as the wind is calm At last my wandering here at the edge without a guide, I only hear the messenger's gentle whispers.
By Stephanie Anderson7 years ago in Poets
Life Whispers
Life, the reflection or celebration of spirit. Seen, beyond our horizons or within the mirrors we seek. Upon so many faces, voices speaking tales of
By Stephanie Anderson7 years ago in Poets
Ozymandias
The traveler of old came to visit me, and sat at the foot of my feet. No longer from a land of antiquity, I had never again expected to meet.
By Haley K7 years ago in Poets
Escape
Feeling all sorts of things, whether obscure or delightful feelings all of us feeling either trapped under some dome for us non-travelers or feeling as though time passes us by with everyone around us passing us by. Thinking where we all fit into this world, this plan that the universe has for us, this never ending feeling or this thought we could never get out of our heads.
By Orihara Kanra7 years ago in Poets
The Revival
A long path seemingly downtrodden, Its hollow trees and browning leaves are merely forgotten. It maps the way to a place so long ago travelled, not yet dead but dying.
By Bridget Meier7 years ago in Poets
Fairy Ground
Dance. Dance! Dance round- On fairy ground. Sing. Sing! Sing songs— Of the coming spring. Lock your heart In a secret chest.
By Zoe Mize7 years ago in Poets
I Am
I pretend to show kindness I feel no remorse for the evil committed I touch the death of cold flesh I worry no longer of the suicides left behind
By Joseph Lenz7 years ago in Poets