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.

Before You Give Your Light
It’s okay to want to help — to heal others’ wounds, to hold broken worlds with hands full of light. But never forget your own cracks.
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
The Oldest Whisper
Trust your intuition. It is the oldest whisper of your soul— the golden thread that ties you to your truth. When something feels like madness,
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
The Gift We Forget
The reason you feel anxious is because your mind is running toward a future that hasn’t arrived yet. The reason you overthink everything
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
Blooming Hurts First
When you feel lost, when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, don’t run away or hide. You’re not broken— you’re just beginning to grow.
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
My Awakening Came from the Invisible
For a long time, I was a shadow searching for a door. I felt out of place, like the world moved to a rhythm I couldn’t follow.
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
Where True Joy Is Born
Never doubt where your inner joy can bloom from. Even when you feel lost, without a calling, or without real friendships—
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
The Beauty of Not Fitting In
The fear of failing — is really just the fear that your true self won’t be enough. But here’s the truth: Your soul is always enough.
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
The Joy of Awakening
There is no act more underrated, yet more powerful, than opening your eyes in the morning. In that first breath lives the miracle.
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
Before You Came Here
This life — no matter how difficult it may seem — you chose it, wisely, before you came here. It wasn’t a mistake. It was the brave decision of your soul
By Liora Vogel about a year ago in Poets
Whispers of Love
I found you in quiet moments, Where words dared not intrude; In glances that felt like dawn, In silence soft and crude. I traced the constellations Your eyes carried each night; The universe seemed smaller When our hands held so tight. We learned that love is patient, A garden slow to bloom, It thrives in storms and stillness, It grows in sun and gloom. You taught me hearts are fragile, But stronger than we know; That love is not just passion, But where two souls can grow. Time will steal our shadows, Days will lose their light; But love’s quiet whispers linger, Through darkest, longest night. So let the world keep turning, Let seasons come and flee; For love’s soft echoes anchor The you inside of me. ---
By Huzaifa Writerabout a year ago in Poets
Ephemeral
One step closer to punishment. . The moon is bleeding out. Right into my mouth. Its pale light fills my belly, Widens my soul into something
By Silver Dauxabout a year ago in Poets
Excluded: Biased Toward Bias
Preamble: As many of you probably know, I've been working on trying to get published and entering various competitions outside Vocal for sometime now. This next piece, is my 10th overall rejection, that includes competitions and submission calls with literary publications. I've been encouraged, inspired and spurred along to try by the two Stephens. Stephen A Roddewig and Stephen Kramer Avitabile.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets