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 Journey of the Soul
The Journey of the Soul Beneath the stars, where silence speaks, And night drapes soft o’er mountain peaks, A soul set out with dreams untold, On paths both dark, and paved in gold. No map it held, no name, no guide, Just whispers deep from deep inside. It walked through wind, through storm and rain, Through fields of joy, and wells of pain. It met the sun, it met the snow, It saw the high, it felt the low. It danced in dawn’s first golden light, It wept beneath the cloak of night. It passed through lands of song and flame, Where none it knew, yet all seemed same. In every face, it saw its own, In every voice, a deeper tone. The soul met hearts both soft and cold, Some young and fierce, some wise and old. Each left a mark, a scar, a flame, That changed it more than it could name. It loved with fire, it loved with grace, It lost some battles face to face. Yet even loss would light the way, A beacon born of yesterday. The rivers sang of flowing time, Of letting go, of mountain climb. The trees stood still, yet knew the sky, And taught the soul to grow, not cry. It asked the stars, "What lies ahead?" The stars just blinked and softly said: “The path is long, and never done. You’ll chase the moon, outrun the sun.” It built and broke, it dreamed, it failed, It held on tight, it laughed, it wailed. It searched for peace in shifting sands, And found it resting in its hands. The deserts taught it thirst and grace, The oceans showed its mirror face. The forest whispered sacred lore, The cliffs revealed what heights are for. It journeyed far to find its name, Not knowing it had always came With stardust in its ancient skin, A universe that breathed within. It met the child it once had been, With scraped-up knees and joyful grin. It held that child and gently wept, For dreams it lost, for hopes it kept. It met the elder it would be, With wrinkled face, with soul set free. And in that gaze, so calm, so wise, It saw the truth behind the lies. The soul is not a line, but wave, Not meant to own, but meant to brave. Not locked in flesh, nor bound by name, But shaped by love, and fire, and flame. It sang in caves where echoes roam, It carved its stories into stone. It left behind not gold or crown, But seeds of hope in every town. And still it walks, it never ends, For every end is where it bends. A journey vast, both deep and wide, With stars above and fire inside. It walks with you, it walks with me, Through joy, through pain, through mystery. So if you wander, lost, unsure— Know souls like yours are strong and pure. You are the flame that lights the dark, You are the beat, the breath, the spark. The soul within you knows the way— Just trust its voice and walk the day. --- The Light of Loss and Love Moments of deep love and painful loss that carve the soul’s wisdom It loved with fire, with fearless grace, It found its home in a stranger's face. A fleeting glance, a warm embrace— Then time would steal that sacred space. It built its world on hopes so high, But watched them crumble with a sigh. Love bloomed like spring, then slipped away, Like dusk dissolving into day. Some left with words, some left in sleep, Some carved their names in wounds too deep. Yet through the tears and aching night, Love left behind a softer light. A lesson lay in every scar, Each heartbreak born beneath a star. For every soul it dared to hold Left wisdom deeper than pure gold. It learned that love is not to keep, But something shared before the leap. Not locked in time, nor owned by fate, But something made to liberate. And loss, though sharp, became a guide— A shadow walking at its side. It taught the soul to feel, to break, And rise again for its own sake. The soul grew roots from all it lost, It learned what love was truly worth—its cost. Not things that stay, but things that leave, Are sometimes what we most believe. And in the end, the soul could see, That love and loss are meant to be. Together they refine, reveal— The wounds we carry help us heal.
By Muheebullahkhan about a year ago in Poets
Attempted Illumination
You reached the horizon in time. I'm still a millisecond behind but it's enough to make it last place. I'm always playing catch up and this game is wearing me down. I'm already running out of oxygen and you're well aware. You can't bother turning around and making sure I'm doing all right. All that matters is you. My lungs are heaving and I'm trying not to convulse too heavily. My breath is caught in my throat but you never noticed. Please don't leave here. I can't beg with my words because they will go unheard like always. I can see the rejuvenating sunlight reach the edge of the surface but I can't seem to reach it. I try to grasp the string of enlightenment but it always runs ahead of me. I can't escape the feeling of drowning nor can I flee from this desertion. You could never muster the strength to include me in your own arrogance. You created an egocentric universe with me worshiping you from my orbit. So close but always so far away. You've reached the finish line and have already celebrated your glory. I watch my attempt at failed illumination come to light. But my mind is suddenly now clear. The tension ruptures as you break free. This is a scene on replay. Over and over again, you continued to choose yourself. You've shed the anchor holding you down like I'm a weight forcing you to hold on. I can't hold on anymore. Please turn around and wait for me. My suffering has got to mean something after all this time. After all of this neglect, you left me stranded again once more. I've been jettisoned. I've been marooned while you enjoy the spoils of your feast. If this scenic ocean had a drain, you would have left me spiraling out of submission. The water is still. I am floating even though I am dying. I can't beg you to notice me anymore. The shallow waves match your insincerity. I have wasted precious time on you, hoping you would relieve me of this pain. Now the pain is subsiding. I am content in this mesmerizing abyss. The sea water is silent but my heartbeat is deafening. My pulse is weakening. I can't force you to care after all this time. You've reached the horizon and I won't be there to applaud you for it. I'm in second place but we both know it's always last. I can't beg you to turn around anymore. It all makes sense now. You will always delight in watching me drown
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Emergence
I've been reduced to a dwarf planet. I lay bonded with the trauma at its core. The wound was invisible but still so painful. Discarded at the end and left abandoned at the the door. I was applauded once, enormous with potential. We reached our expiration date extremely early. I failed to crumble while you soiled my name. I abstained from doubt to preserve my identity. There was a hymn full of gospel and truth. A purge of discovery and exclusion. You were never on my team, never on my side. It was me versus you and everyone else under the sun., There was no reason for your madness. You trapped yourself in a conspiracy of your own making. I lay forgotten in the numb and the dark. My name is spoken in whispers where I'm still unseen. You didn't value any of my contributions. Your silence has given me much needed clarity. No closure or even apology why I must suffer. I've tamed the external chaos, now I'm focusing internally. I prospered so much without you. My orbit is lonely but I'm fine with no distractions. My imbalance does not alter my true status. I'm not defined by coordinates anymore, I'm now a celestial constellation. You can't get rid of me even though you've tried. I'll be beyond your grasp so pay me no mind
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
