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.

Ekphrastic 4
He came to me in his frontal-parietal-temporal-occipital-cerebellum mantle, the wispy wool of his scalp bleached like the heavens he separated from the Earth, from me.
By Wen Xiaosheng2 years ago in Poets
Love in Every Form
Hearts beat, a tender song, Your gaze holds where I belong. Friends near, a steady light, Shared smiles through day and night.
By PhilipM-I2 years ago in Poets
Bed
I like to sink my body into my bouncy mattress, And indulge in the warmth of soft cotton sheets; I like to feel my head sink into soft, fluffy pillows,
By Carol Ann Townend2 years ago in Poets
Bad Dreams
On the surface, I can see it moving; I place my hand to feel its breathing. Tell me, what could be here hiding so desperately in between these sheets?
By Sara Wynn2 years ago in Poets
Where are you?
I wish I knew where you were: It seems like you are not here. Please start shouting or waving before We think you're not here anymore!
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Poets
The Sea Nymphs
Cascading waves of blue surf drink hungrily on the beach, as the tide rolls in, over bone-white bodies— nude, in the sun-dappled foam.
By Tom Baker2 years ago in Poets
Daydreams Started
dream a sound of unknown faith and carefully a unfamiliar song unwinds leading you to search for signs of colors bright that singe and sanctify
By Barb Dukeman2 years ago in Poets
I Am Three Depressions. Top Story - February 2025.
I am Ashley The soul whose name is spoke of the most. The believer of the impossible being done. The go getter that wants nothing but to prove that this body is made more for the light of success than the darkness of my past pain.
By Ashley Miller2 years ago in Poets
bold
Sweet caramel and gentle folds All of the light is blissful As it swiftly smooths to melt on my tongue. It's divine, the feeling of bold, complete joy
By Ruby Red2 years ago in Poets
The Symbol
He saw the symbol on the table, his eyes squinting, he couldn't understand it. What could it mean? Was it a symbol from something in the past?
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Poets
The Silent Pen
The pen lies still, the page stays bare, A quiet battle hangs in the air. The words once danced with a steady flow, Now they falter, lost in shadows below.
By V2 years ago in Poets
Vert Sub
1 2 3 4—1 2 3 If I stare at—a word long 1 2 3—1 2 3 4 enough I lose—all sense of what 1 2 3 4—1 2 3 is where the letters—rearrange afore my
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets