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.
sugar addict (1)
Terry Jones had a plan. At least, he liked to think of it that way. He’d been saving up for his first car for months now. Sixteen, broke, and desperate for some freedom, he’d managed to scrape together $850 by mowing lawns, walking dogs, and selling old video games. But a car—at least one that wouldn’t fall apart on the way home—cost more. He needed $2,000, minimum.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
random page (5)
“Come on, Lucky!” he panted, his breath coming in sharp bursts. “I’m trying to help you!” Lucky didn’t seem to care. The terrier finally paused in a small park surrounded by old oak trees. Elliot bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Lucky stood a few feet away, wagging his tail like it was all a game.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
random page (7)
Carefully, he climbed over the fence, snagging his hoodie on the way down. The warehouse was eerily quiet. Shafts of pale light streamed through holes in the roof, illuminating piles of rubble and rusting machinery. Elliot could hear Lucky’s soft whimpering somewhere inside.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
random page (4)
Every time he thought he was close enough to grab Lucky, the dog would dart away again.The alley was narrow and cluttered with overturned trash bins and soggy cardboard boxes. Lucky weaved effortlessly through the mess, his little legs carrying him faster than Elliot would’ve expected.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
random page (1)
Elliot kicked a pebble down the cracked sidewalk as he ambled home from school. The late autumn wind tugged at his hoodie, and the faint smell of rain clung to the air. He didn’t mind the walk—anything was better than another hour at home with his mom asking why his grades weren’t better.
By bart santos2 years ago in Poets
