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.
Letters I meant to send
letters I always meant to send to other people and myself. My love, I am so sorry. Maybe this is my first time, or maybe we always feel this must be the first time we have fallen over our doubt and into ourselves. Like this could be our first pair of eyes setting sight on a new day that actually feels new. I am trying always, in all ways and hallways on late nights and mornings when you went home half drunk and I said 'I told you so' / all hands and good intentions and coconut water in a white borrowed mug. I try to see you clearly and know what you need, in spite of what you say it is. In the wake of me, sick of my voice having to remind you that most of the things you want for are the things that are slowly binding you to the illusion of consistency.
Georgia JonesPublished 8 months ago in PoetsKitten's Play
The old cabin had grown quite shabby Since it had been left to the witch's old tabby With the familiar finally freed He just didn't feel any domestic need
McKenzie McQuadePublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Guard of the Land
He runs for the hills when he’s in the mood for a hunt, Buckskins and mantle hide him from the prey’s view, He’s living in his element as his testosterone rises,
Colleen MillsteedPublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Robbery
They were the only two customers in the bank that day when masked robbers came in and told everyone to get on the ground. Their bodies hit the floor with a pound.
Alex H MittelmanPublished 8 months ago in Poetsmerry (1)
I remember this one time in art class our teacher made us make Christmas tree ornaments. The holidays were coming around and school was about to close for Christmas break. She thought that it would be the perfect project to end the semester. We had to design our own ornaments. It needed to have a meaning to it. I love my family very much and I thought, what better meaning than family. We had until grades closed to finish our ornaments. The project called for 4 ornaments, but we only needed to turn one in. The rest were ours to keep.
Robbie BalePublished 8 months ago in Poetsmerry (2)
I spent about 15 minutes coming up with an idea. I took one thing that each of my family members likes to do. For instance, my mom loves to cook so I drew a chef’s hat. And my little brother loves to play soccer so I drew a little soccer ball. I made sketches for each one of their interests. Now that I was done brainstorming, I went to the front of the class where the materials were and picked up the origami ornament cutouts. I had drawn the sketches on here now and traced over them with a sharpie.
Robbie BalePublished 8 months ago in Poetsmerry (3)
I love my art class. It's like my little sanctuary away from everybody else in the school. Nobody that is in this class is fake. Everybody just vibes. It's like my home away from home. I love my art teacher so much. She makes everyone feel like they’re somebody. Makes everybody feel like you can be something in this world. She really helps me embrace my creativity. Every time that I go to art class, I never want to leave. I wish I could stay here all day. But of course that can't happen because it doesn't work like that.
Robbie BalePublished 8 months ago in PoetsA good construction man
It all hurts when your feet tread so lightly upon the ground but the floor always ends up concaving into itself. You land on the next floor abruptly with broken everything
Aubrie BellePublished 8 months ago in Poetsout my window (4)
“Hey ma’am is everything okay? I noticed you from my window and I just came down to see if I could help.” This lady looked a few years older than me. She must have just been passing through from a neighboring city trying to get to work that morning. She explained to me that her tire went flat and that she needed some help putting on the donut. She was very attractive and I just couldn't say no, so of course I had to help her. I ran upstairs to get my tool bag and got ready to get to work.
Robbie BalePublished 8 months ago in Poetsout my window (5)
It didn't take that long to put the donut tire on, and it really was no big deal. I was actually happy to help. I was feeling good today. And I guess I was also feeling good enough to ask the lady for a number. She was so pretty I just couldn't help it. I wooed her over and she gave the number to me. I might take her out to dinner some night. She starts the car up and drives to work. Hopefully she called a body shop so she can get a new tire. What a good start to the morning.
Robbie BalePublished 8 months ago in PoetsResilient Threads: An Ode to the Unbreakable Spirit
In the crucible of life's fiery forge, Where trials and tribulations converge, I rise, a phoenix from the ash, A story of resilience, in colors that flash.
Kailee phillipsPublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Epic of the Dreamer's Ascent
Beneath the mountain's ancient, mossy shroud, Where heroes and thieves have dared not allowed, Lies a secret realm known to a chosen few,
Kailee phillipsPublished 8 months ago in Poets