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.

Metamorphosis
I live within a darkness Unknown to the light I find comfort in the land Of nightmares and frights For I’m a creature of destruction
By Edward Val5 months ago in Poets
Enforced Awakening
I knew in the time Between becoming awake in bed And walking out the door Oh About an hour or so later That it changed
By Sarah Campbell5 months ago in Poets
The Old Choreography: Not Him Exactly
He came back in the season when hospital corridors always smell faintly of boiled rice and disinfectant, which is to say he arrived wearing the same brown windbreaker from 2004, the one with a broken zipper
By KURIOUSK5 months ago in Poets
Penguins Can Fly
In Pittsburgh steel, the Penguins rise and claim, With Sidney Crosby leading through the fray, Five Stanley Cups have etched their golden name.
By Clyde E. Dawkins5 months ago in Poets
You've Got It Comin' Back
i sit for hours underneath your window me and the moon, just hanging around i found a sense of peace, out here, in limbo i caught a beat, but never made a sound
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden5 months ago in Poets
Those Feelings
holding my hand as we sit on the train her head nestled close on my shoulder squeezing my thumb as she did, once again like a child, whenever I held her
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden5 months ago in Poets
Illusion
Standing beside myself Lost somewhere between, Love and hate Don’t quite understand our situation And I’m unable to digest what’s been thrown upon my plate
By Edward Val5 months ago in Poets
THE EX
The Ex comes back to show prove, to show his love is a lose, He comes back with two more dimes, I’ve still yet not the one he captures,
By Rachael Frazier5 months ago in Poets
The Boy with the Rats
The boy with the rats was blonde, skinny. I don’t know why he brought them. I wasn’t even sure just where the hell I was. I was lying on a couch when a small, furry thing jumped up at my knuckles. I felt the small, stinging bites, and I smacked it in its rear. It turned, revealing the long, skinny tail.
By Tom Baker5 months ago in Poets
dinner date
take me to starbucks and feed me cash galaxies The moon was out of soft-serve, and the comets overcooked the fries while I stretched into a kiss that knocked me to my knees
By Harper Lewis 5 months ago in Poets
My Future Self Came Back
My Future Self Came Back It was 2:17 AM. The room was dark except for the soft glow of my laptop screen. Bills were scattered across the table. My phone showed three missed calls—from people I didn’t have the courage to talk to anymore.
By Imran Ali Shah5 months ago in Poets
Anus Horribilis: Tragedy Domestica
Anus horribilus If you don't wipe Not too hard tho Or the paper turns Well.. what? - brown plus red: Terra cotta Toilet Rosetta stone-like Parchment, Or scroll Of problematic bowels - Someone said annual I heard anal - Someone said therapist I screamed Sex offender * Thanks for reading! Little bit of Tuesday subversive fun. Isn't language fun. Or is this just me hiding darker, more serious themes beneath a swirling sea of sewage?
By Paul Stewart5 months ago in Poets