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.

the cat & the dog (9)
“I think I get it. Maybe.” Velvet shook her head, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “You’re impossible.” As winter settled in, their unlikely partnership deepened.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (10)
*for you to get better, peace The painting hung in the living room, a testament to their truce. By the time spring arrived, the cat and the dog had become an inseparable duo.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (7)
Despite her initial resistance, Velvet began to tolerate Moose’s presence. She even found herself amused by his antics—like the time he tried to catch a falling leaf through the window, barking so loudly that June dropped her paintbrush.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (2)
Moose didn’t merely occupy space—he owned it, albeit with a bumbling kind of charm. The house they shared was large enough for them to avoid each other, but life had other plans.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (1)
The cat and the dog were creatures of habit, yet their worlds could not have been more different. The cat, sleek and sharp-eyed, ruled the corners of her home with an air of silent command.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (3)
Moose sprawled on the rug, his golden fur haloed by the weak sunlight filtering through the window. The room was silent but charged, like a cloud ready to burst. Moose’s tail thumped once against the floor.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the cat & the dog (4)
“Up here, I can see everything. Down there, you’re just… in the way.” Moose’s ears drooped. “I’m not in the way. I’m just… here.” “Exactly.” Velvet leapt gracefully from the bookshelf, landing with a soft thud.
By harvey benson2 years ago in Poets
the fire is kindling (9)
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “I became part of it. The forest. The fire. All of it. And now, you can too.” “No.” The word escapes me before I can think.
By gary jaxson2 years ago in Poets
the fire is kindling (5)
People who’ve come here and never left.” I rolled my eyes, but the words stuck with me. Even now, I can hear his voice in my head, daring me to listen. I never saw Eric after that summer.
By gary jaxson2 years ago in Poets
the fire is kindling (10)
“Stay, and you’ll see. You’ll understand.”The fire roars, embers spiraling into the night sky. I take a step back, then another, my pulse pounding in my ears. “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I won’t.”Eric’s face twists, his grin collapsing into a snarl. “You can’t run from it,” he growls.
By gary jaxson2 years ago in Poets
the fire is kindling (7)
But the sound persists, weaving through the trees, growing clearer with each repetition. I stand, fists clenched, and spin toward the darkness. “Eric?!” My voice cracks, a mix of hope and fear. The hum falters, then stops.
By gary jaxson2 years ago in Poets
the fire is kindling (6)
The fire is roaring now, its warmth pushing back the chill. I sit close to it, knees drawn to my chest, and let the flames mesmerize me. The forest feels quieter, though not less alive.
By gary jaxson2 years ago in Poets