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.
Swiftly Gliding
In the tapestry of life, a tale unfolds, A woman's success, a story to be told. With strength and grace, she charts her course,
World WriterPublished 9 months ago in PoetsOde to a Paperclip
Oh humble paperclip, in your simple guise, A marvel of utility, you do not disguise. Unassuming and small, yet mighty in might,
Abnoan MunizPublished 9 months ago in PoetsI Love Lamp, an Ode.
An ordinary lamp, so plain and small, a simple thing, no great grandeur at all. Yet cast its light upon the wall, and see the shadows dance and crawl.
Alex H MittelmanPublished 9 months ago in Poets~God!~
~God!~ He say's that he loves you But yet, You doubt that he's there! When he speaks Do you hear him? Or is he not there?
Jennifer CooleyPublished 9 months ago in PoetsLost Souls
It smiles from the darkness. It watches from the corners. Bloodstained teeth behind dirty lips. Cynical laughter from underneath the bed.
Jasmine HarrisPublished 9 months ago in Poets~Punk!~
~Punk!~ Punk is what was keeping me Alive Punk is what protected What was going on inside, Punk is not a game Punk is when you're insane.
Jennifer CooleyPublished 9 months ago in PoetsEmbrace It
Slowly rotting from the inside out. The end will come soon enough. There's no running from our doom. The smell of death is in the air.
Jasmine HarrisPublished 9 months ago in Poets~ A Girl named Blue!~
I don't want to be haunted by you I don't want to be haunted by that kiss, I don't want to be haunted by that physical desire
Jennifer CooleyPublished 9 months ago in PoetsDying Swan
Am I your dying swan? Will you hold me like you hold out The silent notes to sing me that Solemn lullaby? There are no spaces in between
Melissa IngoldsbyPublished 9 months ago in PoetsI Was A Hot Sun Bursting
I was a hot sun bursting. All panicked heat and light. Gasping, thirsting, In frantic flaming spurts, My core of magma fleshing out fire
Anji KaizenPublished 9 months ago in Poetsthe sludgy mess at the bottom of your hot cocoa
You know when you make a hot cocoa We call it hot chocolate If you don't mix it properly (And sometimes even when you do)
Paul StewartPublished 9 months ago in PoetsThe Golden Sands of Time
O, cherish time, a treasure swift and fleet, A force that shapes both bitter and sweet, With tender grace, it heals wounds so deep,
Yanger MollierPublished 10 months ago in Poets