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.

Garden
Dancing in my garden Full of fruits Next to the fruit of love, my heart beat free Then I twirl into the fruit of peace, where I close my eyes and take in the breeze
By L.I.E2 years ago in Poets
Spoiled Milk and Panic Attacks. Runner-Up in Tattoo This Line Challenge.
I bought the milk, it lied, a confident date two weeks ahead, but inside, it festered like regret in a plastic jug. The clerk didn’t seem to care,
By Natasha Collazo2 years ago in Poets
Mountain Peak
It isn't appropriate to keep you locked in a cage Even if it the bars are made of calcium and bone. Neither is it advisable to keep something like you
By Silver Daux2 years ago in Poets
Are You Ready For The Good Part
Look deeper than just what you see to know the deeper sides of me An original down to the core come closer to learn even more
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
Early Morning Stroll
I breathe in the ethereal perfume of cedar and grass, kissed by dew. A dew so crisp and fresh, I can taste it; a marvelous delicacy.
By Annie Edwards 2 years ago in Poets
Fairy Garden
How I long to slip between the sheaves of grass and climb the gently bobbing stems of flowers. I know I can widdle away fiddle fangling, and wander there for time-warped hours, searching the jungle of dandelions for a wondrous petal-topped gazing tower.
By K.B. Silver 2 years ago in Poets
Women
A woman standing on window by herself stare up the sky, she imagine little girl, now turned to star, sniffing at the aged body of her own.
By Mansi2 years ago in Poets
Heaven's Jealousy
He said my name like an oath. I said his like a war cry. We met in the ruins of reason, and built something holier from chaos.
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Garden
There's a garden, gated, out back of my mind, where bees delicately hum, amongst dreams that grow in vines of honeysuckle;
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
The One and the Other
"I'm sorry for what I did and I still love you!" said the one. "How do I stop loving you?" "You don’t have to stop loving," said the other. "Stop expecting others to give you what you want in the mournful moment. Move on in Peace. Love exists independent of human interaction. When you learn that, you will find that the spark reignites, and the interaction, insofar as it is necessary, is neither burden nor blessing, but just one more signpost on our way to an inevitable resolution at the end of time."
By C. Rommial Butler2 years ago in Poets
She is a Dandelion
She is a dandelion- a beautiful, chaotic whirlwind where anything is possible. Her soul dances freely, allowing Mother Nature to whisk her away
By Annie Edwards 2 years ago in Poets
She is a Starry Night
She is a starry night- the ink of the cosmos poured across the sky, painted slivers of silver thoughts too bright for day.
By Annie Edwards 2 years ago in Poets