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.

perfect recipe (6)
“Yes,” he groaned. “The garden looks like it could be in a magazine now. Can we please get started?” Lucille gave him a knowing smile and gestured for him to sit. “Alright, but first, let’s have a chat.” Damien raised an eyebrow. “A chat? About what?”
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
perfect recipe (3)
There was a pause. “Oh, Damien, it’s been years since I wrote that down. But tell you what—you come over tomorrow, and I’ll help you figure it out. How about that?”“Deal,” Damien said, relieved.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
perfect recipe (2)
He scrolled through his contacts until he found Grandma Lucille. His thumb hovered over the call button. He hadn’t called her in a while—not because he didn’t love her, but because life had a way of filling up with distractions. Work at the bistro, a couple of failed attempts at dating, and now this obsessive quest to recreate her marinara. He pressed the button.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
perfect recipe (8)
The air was cool and damp, and the shelves were lined with jars of preserved vegetables, jams, and sauces, each labeled in Lucille’s neat handwriting. He found the tomatoes easily—thick, vibrant, and impossibly red, like they’d been plucked from a garden yesterday.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (6)
He couldn’t even blame the candy; it wasn’t like the gummies had dragged him to the store. No, this was on him. Sunday morning, Terry woke up determined to fix his mistake. He went through his candy stash and shoved everything into a grocery bag. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he told himself, throwing the bag into the trash.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (2)
He’d spent countless afternoons standing at the checkout counter of the corner store, looking at the handful of candy and asking himself, Do I really need this? The answer was always yes.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (9)
“Hold onto this,” he said. “No matter what I say, don’t give it back until I’ve saved enough for the car.” His mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (10)
The best part? He hadn’t bought a single piece of candy in over a month. On a hot July afternoon, Terry and his mom went to check out a used car he’d found online. It wasn’t flashy—a ten-year-old Honda Civic—but it was in good condition and within his budget.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (8)
Before he knew it, he was at the counter, clutching a box of imported chocolates and a bag of caramel chews. “What happened to ‘no sugar, no problem’?” Danny asked, smirking.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (7)
Terry had planned to spend his evening watching TV, but Danny texted him about a new snack shop that had just opened downtown. “They’ve got everything,” Danny said. “You’ve gotta check it out.”
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
The Walk
Cocooned inside my body, frozen for countless years. I gaze upon the branches tinged with frost, a deep sigh permeates my lungs.
By Sun Bee2 years ago in Poets
sugar addict (5)
A bag of sour gummies was practically calling his name. It’s just one bag, he thought. One little bag won’t hurt. But one bag turned into two, then three. Before he knew it, Terry was standing at the register with an armful of sweets. He handed over a crumpled twenty, barely hearing the cashier say, “That’ll be $19.42.”
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets