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.

RUINED PERCEPTION
A lens once clear, now cloudy and grey Distorted views, in a world astray Truth and lies, in a tangled haze Ruined perception, for rest of days
By JDwrites332 years ago in Poets
The Modern Troubadour. AI-Generated.
I wander streets where neon lights hum, A minstrel’s soul in a city’s pulse. My lute is a screen, my song a code, A digital love letter to those who scroll.
By David M2 years ago in Poets
Solitude
Solitude, my dearest Solitude I opened my tired arms to you, welcomed your unspoken promise of peace and tranquility, longed for your quiet embrace, believing that you, and you alone, could save me.
By Cathy holmes2 years ago in Poets
SILENCE
Step by step as I move on with my life, I'm drowning in the sound of silence. Like everything around, Even the wind that surrounds me,
By Nafisa Ashraf2 years ago in Poets
Farmer fantasies
When in trouble, I think of Vasily strong guy, ok guy Surely cousin to someone cutting pizzas with all the box A simple man, Vasily
By M.2 years ago in Poets
Stiletto Dreams and Silent Tears
Stilettos and red lip gloss In search of a dollar and a bite Lost to the night Each day her body pays her way Now a zombie in disguise
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Poets
No Mistake❌...
No Mistake... If you choose to betray The one who stood by you, Loved you without asking, Without demands, without weight Of expectation— That is no mistake. It’s a decision, A deliberate act, A knife in the fabric Of what was real, Slicing through the dream We thought we were living, Tearing apart the seams Of a reality we built With whispered words And promises. Mistakes? They’re whispers in the wind, Flickers in the corners Of our minds, Accidental blinks in the light. But this? This was a shadow Creeping in the daylight, A choice made in the blinding sun, When everything was clear, Yet you chose the dark, You chose the cold. Don’t try to disguise it, Wrap it in the mist of excuses, Or drape it in the fog Of a careless apology. You knew, You saw, You felt the pulse Of pain before it throbbed, And still, You let it bleed out, A slow, surreal trickle From a wound you carved Into the flesh of trust. Now, you stand In the ruins of what was, The air thick with the smoke Of shattered dreams, The landscape distorted, A surreal painting Of what could have been, Of what you turned away from In a single, Deliberate, Act. But forgiveness? It’s a mirage, Shimmering in the distance, A ghost of what once was, Elusive, And perhaps, Unreachable. So tread carefully, When you choose to hurt, For the echoes of your choice Will linger like a dream That haunts the waking mind, A surreal reminder That this— This was no mistake...
By Sugan Ya 2 years ago in Poets
Hibernate With Me
8/19/24 Will you be here tomorrow around 8? I’m always here. It’s like tomorrow is some sort of handshake between two strangers, uncomfortable and clammy and I’m not looking forward to my palm touching something other than your skin. I’m being as brave as I can. I write of chests and God and the ugly that sits between me and my bed. I talk to men because they thank me for it. I’m a child and I’m a stranger and I’m never brave when I need to be. You can meet me where they hibernate in the winter but if my pelt is too thick I can’t take it off. I can give you a knife but the blood won’t stop. It’s all for nothing and it’s all for everything and it’s all for you. You are here and we are shaking hands and I like the way you say Thank you.
By Olivia Dodge2 years ago in Poets
Nightly Visitor
Nightly Visitor The visitor came once again last night, Not causing turmoil nor intending fright. It beckoned me again as it had before,
By Dan R Fowler2 years ago in Poets
Maleficent
Sun dried locks and denim skin, robust and cheeky,grinning. Gravel in his mouth, a heat of graven mercury; eclipsed heart, defective and maleficent. Mothers bruising
By Natasha Collazo2 years ago in Poets
Chasing Clouds
* When the quiet gets loud And sleep is evasive I go out chasing clouds Where the words will be waiting Lets look death in the eye
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
Shakled
Simply speaking shackled are the voices of those who dream of freedom If there were an iota of blame to place it would be in insolence inciting
By Bridge Theory2 years ago in Poets