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 Desolate Evening
The Desolate Evening A sorrowful evening, a grieving heart, and endless solitude, Everywhere stretches the boundless emptiness of loneliness. The leaves and branches have all parted from the trees, Lonely twigs sob silently on their lips. Placing its forehead upon your footprints, Loneliness weeps for hours without pause. In what tone does this sinking heart cry, That loneliness returns time and again, echoing deeply? So familiar is solitude with my existence, That it feels restless now, even in your absence. Whatever sorrow remains in your embrace, Let solitude pour it into the depths of my blood. Our bond was never tied to the joys of bustling crowds, Nor do we have any power over your presence, solitude. Your pride in your desolation may be justified, But spend a few days with me as well, solitude. A ruined heart, memories of you, and the night’s emptiness— All shrouded in the smoke surrounding the grave of solitude.
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
What Became Of You ?
What became of you, with your wisdom of life? Why are you silent now? Tell me, what became of you? You parted ways, chasing new destinations, I lost my path after losing you; what became of you? I knew that failure was my destined end, But you had hopes of triumph—what became of you? I joined the race, not to win, but to hear someone say, "What became of you?" Did they ask you too? The battle I fought against fate was yours as well, I couldn’t succeed; what became of you? Seeing you, I thought you were happy and free, But your words revealed a different story—what became of you? I was punished for being different from the rest, You too were unique—tell me, what became of you?
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
"WE LIVE IN A BUBBLE OF RUBBLE". Content Warning.
I toned down my anger from the election. I must move forward with love, light, peace, and eventually understanding. We are here on Earth for a short while amidst all the chaos and hateful rhetoric of 2024. Freedom, equality, and love for all.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Fungible
My Word: Fungible Meaning: interchangeable. My Connection: One of the things I have always loved about the English language, is just how many words can be (correctly) used interchangeably. When I've worked as a content writer, it is especially important if you are writing about a subject that has been written on a hundred times before, so you can avoid Google and other search engines flagging up supposed duplicate content. In poetry and fiction, it's great if you don't want to use the same word again and again.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
