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.

Soulstice
Soulstice N. the moment you realize you have become a different person, marking a shift in your inner landscape. The ticking of the clock
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Lessons Learned
You said you'd never do it That you would never put me through it But your actions couldn't prove it and you did it anyway
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
The Song of the River
The river sings a song in silver, Under the golden kiss of noon. Its waters fly and dance for evermore, A reel of light spun into ribbon.
By Ripon Ahmedabout a year ago in Poets
Footstep rhythms
As I absent-mindedly dance I picture myself in layered ballroom skirts And 1920s heels, dancing in Bologna, Italy. To the soundtrack of "Bella Ciao" I hear the saxophone improvise
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Poets
Red Flag
You want to keep all the doors shut I think that says something about who you are Just like how you like your meat dead as a door nail
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
The Houses Odyssey
I strolled past the empty house, Its shadow hunched like a forgotten question. I walked past it again, Rain blurring its windows into eyes holding back tears. On my third pass, I paused, Staring until my breath matched its silence. Its loneliness felt familiar— A dialect I’d spoken all my life.
By Andra riverabout a year ago in Poets
Arms Race
Carry away the gossamer soul in arms unrecognized, Arms disproportionately strong from years of tugging Against the shackles of life, unmatched with the chest
By Silver Dauxabout a year ago in Poets
Burnt Releases
I’ve swept the ashes of your maybes from the corners of my skull. This house is holy empty now the locks glow, beautiful.
By Yasmine Lagrasabout a year ago in Poets
Of Metaphorical Vanity and Actualised Nothingness
broadly I'd say the heavy and unrefined brushstrokes of progress have forgotten my soiled and marred canvas a long-held sense of longing
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
The Ratio of Mediation
I walk the edge of fine golden scrollwork My eyes too dazzled to see the end coming I crashed into a hairline of ice Skidding off the edge
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
The Power of Words
Small in sound, Yet heavy in weight, They carve deep wounds or build tall gates— A Double-Edged Dagger. Spoken in haste,
By Kamel Saidaniabout a year ago in Poets
The Things We Leave Behind
I found an old shirt in a dusty drawer, still holding the scent of a time before. Threads worn thin by hands now gone, yet memories stitched where they belong.
By Kamel Saidaniabout a year ago in Poets