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.

When Moon Steals the Spotlight. Runner-Up Sky-ku Challenge.
Sun wants a selfie Moon photobombs with a grin- Sky pulls the curtains
By Natacha Pierre2 years ago in Poets
The Bringer of Death. Content Warning.
I am the Bringer of Death. Be careful to not get too close. My skin is stitched with sulphur. Toxic to the mind the more you breathe me in.
By Monica Carneiro2 years ago in Poets
Sol
Soldier solemnly Overhead guiding our path Lifting from darkness Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
balance of high heavens
keeping good balance, not deep enough to join in, big art sacrificed
By Sun Bee2 years ago in Poets
post-traumatic growth
sky changed in size, dark to bright, shrunken to enlarged, new light paths walked on
By Sun Bee2 years ago in Poets
sky performance
dicey abeyance, high risk performance achieved, safe means tight-applied
By Sun Bee2 years ago in Poets
The Road of No Return
Three knocks, Four pat's, Two wolfs, Five cats, Listen to my call, Oh stranger, lone. Don't venture the paths, Don't voice a remark,
By Simran Daniel2 years ago in Poets
Offline
We pine for the old world A world lived offline Where you went to friends homes To live as orc fighting gnomes Raids on penny and nickel arcades
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
elixir of happiness
like finding a pot filled with gold at the end of sky drowned in rainbow
By Sun Bee2 years ago in Poets
Make The Clock Stop
Mesmerized by clouds Dancing around the sunshine Sunday afternoons
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
The Sun Came Back Up
Last week, I lost my vision blind, sleepy, fatigued couldn’t see a thing as clear as a crystal. I froze to death my body caked in goosebumps
By Talia Devora2 years ago in Poets
Between The Breezeblock and The Portacabin
my hubris, is in the toilet (portacabin at Glastonbury{son, you've never been, never seen, never danced under the stars at Glasto})
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets