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.

Food or Drink
It was just an average afternoon day Hunger came my way I was starving But at the same time I wanted a drink Commence the limbo trip
By Tatiana Adamopoulos7 years ago in Poets
I Am Human
I hate you for everything you are For everything you’ve been I hate you for everything you’ve done And for every little sin
By Keane Neal-Riquier7 years ago in Poets
An Open Book
This is my area my comfort zone so watch me mope// Watch as I sick back through plenty strife while I try and cope// Open these shutters with an open mind//
By Ruben Gonzales7 years ago in Poets
Spine Zigzags, Fragile Skin, Forgotten Growth
lightning flashes suffocating thoughts thunder forces a headache trees snap and surround my spine I can't stay dry as category five winds propel the rain
By Candace Williams7 years ago in Poets
Rollercoaster
Your feelings are like a roller-coaster ride. One minute you love me. The next, you’re fighting with me. You'll love me for a second more, to only hate me with a passion.
By Deborah Portillo7 years ago in Poets
Dear Life:
I always wondered: If I had never tried To harm myself To kill myself To leave this earth, If I had never tried To stand up for myself,
By Amargeaux Rai7 years ago in Poets
They Saw All
They saw all The blinds to the windows of their souls were always up They saw when we went and when we stayed Some days we walked around slightly afraid
By Rowan Finley 7 years ago in Poets
Symptoms
I am an astral projection I am floating I am split apart into atoms I am a galaxy inside the space of my skull I am a distance apart from myself
By Rhiannon D'Averc7 years ago in Poets
Through The Fire
I saw you on your bike. So random. You were with one of your friends. It was early May. Weeks before my birthday. I don't know how you found me.
By Maria Ayala7 years ago in Poets
The Wolves of Little Venice
And we were thinking it was time For the new world to arrive We were hoping it was come at last We were hoping ’twas the hour for everything to change
By David Ireland7 years ago in Poets
A Cliche of Contrasts
She burns bright through the day and night, fire at her fingertips and ash in her hair. She is fierce and loud, her voice is a megaphone and all listen when she opens her mouth. Her hair is a halo of flames but she is far from an angel.
By G Kirby7 years ago in Poets
Poems from the Dark
Notes from the Writer: Hello, October here again. It's been a while. Hope all is well with you. I do apologize for the silence here on Patreon, but as you probably know, I've been on a self-care hiatus and have returned to writing poetry, short stories, novels and developing more creative/artistic projects in the works as of recently.
By October Evans7 years ago in Poets