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.

Below
Who is that man below the blood red light He is sat still as a hook-billed kite and why am I here on a star-stripped night
By Emily Adams3 months ago in Poets
Was it a monster or my Shadow?
I was about to get some rest from time to time.. Then… I saw something strange… I feel something odd… I walk something that was out of place.
By Meghan LeVaughn 3 months ago in Poets
And my heart burns more than the heart of one whose heart is cold.
And my heart burns with longing for one whose heart is cold and for one whose body and condition are afflicted by illness Why should I conceal a love that has consumed my body
By Shoaib3 months ago in Poets
The Knife's Edge. Top Story - June 2026.
A perfectly balanced life I live on the edge of a knife Expert craftsmanship Handsomely paid Exemplary, efforts Sharpen the line laid
By K.B. Silver 3 months ago in Poets
The Modern Ozymandias
The Sedoka is an unrhymed poem made up of two three-line katauta with the following syllable counts: 5/7/7, 5/7/7. A Sedoka, pair of katauta as a single poem, may address the same subject from differing perspectives. A katauta is an unrhymed three-line poem the following syllable counts: 5/7/7.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Poets
The Last Songbird
Long ago, beyond the emerald mountains and silver rivers, there stood a kingdom called Aurelia. It was once known as the Kingdom of Songs.
By Kamal ali3 months ago in Poets
The Moon Weaver
In a village sleeping softly beneath the hills, where the winds carried songs from distant valleys, there lived a young girl named Elara. Every night she sat beside her window and watched the moon rise above the mountains.
By Kamal ali3 months ago in Poets
Door #365
My door was open *** I held a shiny quarter of a room somewhere I haven't been through a door unaware it was left ajar
By Michele Nampalli3 months ago in Poets
Amen. Top Story - June 2026.
Waking up in a feeble reality, I'm hoping for progression for me... So I close my eyes and just wish to live inside my dreams... Chamomile is what relaxes me when my anxiety gets the best of me... Feeling blue, and I forget to love myself. I wonder why you never stop loving me; I wonder what it is that you see inside me... You push my fears aside so that I can move along... Sometimes I feel lost or far from my destiny... Through the Anguish of the fallen Leaves, you continue to water me... Awakening me for another day, you say that you're not done with me... Throughout Alterity, you send messages from the universe signs telling me that I will succeed. When I feel stuck and empty, you fill my heart with glee. Why do you continue to comfort the imperfect me? I pray for you to open my eyes so that I can see what you like about me... Just when I think the road is clear for me, obstacles fall in front of me blocking me... My tears no longer want anything to do with me... I walk alone, and my sentiments continue to follow me... Although the pit wasn't bottomless, it's still hard to feel free... I'm patiently trying with consistency. Like a dollar bill ripped in half, hopelessness threatens me... Should I stay, where would I go, even if I decided to leave? Out in the wild because you've burned down what I thought was my house... The only thought in my head is, what do I do now? Maybe all you wanted was for me to stop trying to figure things out... So now, as I settle back and snuggle with optimism... All of a Sudden, In Comes The Blessings Raining Down On Me Changing My Identity...
By HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)3 months ago in Poets
Arrears
A draught on the neck where the warm just was. The hallway behind me, filling. ● The rooms I walked out of, their lamps still burning.
By Ahmet Nazif Sati3 months ago in Poets
The Nearness in the Dark
The wall quivered like wrinkled skin before a twitch. Outside, the vervain shuddered as if something with a windpipe brushed past.
By Caitlin Charlton3 months ago in Poets
Keep Walking and Don't Turn Around
Walking in the city enjoying sights so pretty, balconies hung with flowers, trailing down like bowers. Neck hairs raise as I look around -
By Andrea Corwin 3 months ago in Poets