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.

She Was a Fairy
She curls up in darkness Like an unborn child in the womb She floats In waters of symbiosis An exchange of dark and light
By A. R. Ambrosi9 years ago in Poets
First Morning Light
First morning light to start the morning day, the sun peeks from behind a gray, rain-filled cloud and then goes back into hiding.
By Alexzandria the Poet9 years ago in Poets
Running
I’m running through a flurry of flakes I don’t know what exactly I'm running from The past? The future? Or maybe it’s myself...
By Matthew freiberg9 years ago in Poets
To My Friend, My Enemy
Observe the shadow move slowly from the other corner... See her disfigured outline? It's cold outside, and the smoke translates the unusual night.
By Val Mijares9 years ago in Poets
Everlasting Darkness
A shadow. Nothing more. Nothing less. A shade. Nothing more. Nothing less. A darkness so raw, it burns your soul. You feel lost, and empty.
By Camille Geigel9 years ago in Poets
Harlot
Venom of a harlot strikes all those who lay with her, hypnotizing fools so they worship her. Give her jewelry and all she needs, she plays the perfect role. She thinks out loud as she devours souls of lustful beings. They'll do anything & everything from,
By B O R E D iN C H A Os9 years ago in Poets
Gemini
Gemini. Two sides to every story... Two faces to everyman. Extreme loss or glory... You can’t and then you can. Sometimes life is not easy...
By Steven Baldry9 years ago in Poets
Blending
The mind has been places which no other mind has seen, Who are we presumably to be the thought so keen, Tearing at the ether so to breach the dark abyss,
By James Bradford9 years ago in Poets
Talking
You talked about, dissing with guts, giving it your all. I have my mind in the clouds, heart in hell and this soul in heaven.
By Alexia Villanueva9 years ago in Poets
Haze
“Maybe you should stop,” Joey said. “Stop and Breathe again. You don’t need this.” I responded with a middle finger in his face and
By jovie9 years ago in Poets
My Life
Twirling in the darkness, letting the stars slip through my fingers unaware of which was up. Arbitrarily floating in the blackness the
By Kayleigh Quinzel9 years ago in Poets
We Live What Needs to be Lived
Was life even intended to be lived? All the rollercoaster rides we face each day. Were people meant to handle all this? Violence, sadness, but then the flowers of May.
By Crissy DXCII9 years ago in Poets