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.
How Poets Build and Benefit from Community Support
Introduction Poetry, often a deeply personal and introspective art form, thrives in community settings. While many think of poetry as a solitary pursuit, poets have long relied on communities—whether small writing circles, workshops, or large online networks—for inspiration, feedback, and encouragement. This article explores how poets build meaningful connections and how these communities play a vital role in nurturing creative growth and career development.
By bachir boukhalfa 2 years ago in Poets
The Evolution of Poetry Communities: From Ancient Gatherings to Digital Spaces
Introduction Poetry communities have existed since ancient times, reflecting not only the evolution of poetry itself but also the changing ways people connect, share, and support each other creatively. From the early days of oral tradition to today’s online forums and social media, these communities have played a crucial role in cultivating poetic talent and keeping poetry relevant across generations.
By bachir boukhalfa 2 years ago in Poets
Harbinger of Light
Honesty could never pierce his heart. Nor would Cupid's arrow. There wasn't enough integrity in any marrow of a bone. Your blood vessels were always too narrow. You kept your muzzle on me and I grew accustomed to it. It only grew vengeance within me. You were treacherous and a villain of the worst kind. You carried placebos in your pocket in order to placate me. You masqueraded as a remedy. You pretended to be the harbinger of light. I wish you had arrived with a disclaimer. That whispered how every word was an exaggeration or a lie. I would appease you every moment we lay awake. Your tongue was sandpaper and it was vile. I asked you not to resuscitate me while I suffered from hypoxia. But you were always certain and I was always in denial. All the roads lead to the same conclusion. I have yet to travel back to myself. You were a study in scarlet, a study in cancer. My tremors and palpitations delivered more anguish and nothing else. You were the anti-hero in my story of medieval revenge. You are the proof we were capable of the most terrible things. You always extracted the worst parts of myself and beyond. You always gave rise to the darkness that resided in me. I called you my mighty nemesis but you were the ultimate adversary. I was the brinicle that couldn't get past your iron lungs. I tried belladonna in the twilight and ricin when the moon was full. But nightshade loved you way too much. We chose to meet in the coliseum but you wouldn't face me. We spat our blood in the dirt but my tears meant nothing. This sacred, hallow ground where we hand over our fates. I want to send you to the obsidian shore so you could finally see. You canonized yourself to the realm of the saints. We needed a translator to meddle in our transgressions. I loved it here in my comfort zone of perfected wounds. But you were the sorrow in all my romantic delusions. The rope kept slipping in and out of my grasp. The sword wouldn't hold still in my right hand. I didn't want to fall but you kept threatening to jettison me. I had to strike you down or else, you would have. Paying the price for ambition you never favored. My motivations always surpassed you. You led me to the gallows but I rejected your noose. You had your axe ready but my pulse always refused. You were never the beast that hungered for more. You slumbered while I attempted my succession. This hierarchy was always a sham and I will take your throne as mine. You just didn't have it in you to complete this mission.
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
