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.

Blowing Bubbles
Today I gave up The fight against gravity The ergs and the joules and the foot-pounds Were just so much fluff to me . I concaved into a labyrinth
By Gerard DiLeo3 years ago in Poets
My Madness Is a Room in My Mind
The one I try to keep the door closed on– locked and barred - to hold it at bay Sometimes nothing works and it springs open wide – a whirlwind - sweeping away
By Bonnie Bowerman3 years ago in Poets
Fluffy Clouds of Filth
The sheep don’t speak here, They don’t even smile, One wagged its tail when I called - but then ran like the others, Shit spilling out its arse like wet breadcrumbs to the turf,
By Gavin J Innes3 years ago in Poets
Want time to pause
want time to pause pause for a minute I just want time to pause for a minute to take my heavy breadth want a movement with the sky for a minute
By Neetu Jadon3 years ago in Poets
Derelict
Once, it brought us to life You lauded this renovation Hailed it “Our greatest accomplishment.” “Our True North” Then we got the news
By Matthew J. Fromm3 years ago in Poets
Conch
I am layered in layers of laminated laden love, limply lingering beneath the landlocked clouds above. Peeling them back has proven to be painlessly painful,
By Kale Sinclair3 years ago in Poets
The Mould
The mould of - inside - is not the - you see outside of - The - of me - me is the - me the me I - to be The mould of - inside me is the hidden me, that wants -
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Poets
INTJ "The Loner Investigator"
With mind most keen, a strategist profound, INTJ's soul, in reason's web is bound. A thirst for knowledge, ever burns within,
By Diorino Galvano3 years ago in Poets
In the dark
Here are a few thoughts I had about the night sky. What do you think of the stars? Let me know in the comments below. Poem
By Thomas Terry3 years ago in Poets
The Big Green Hill
No static baby All clarity maybe 🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃 Bopping our heads in time to Sir Duke And you are so cute to boot 🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
By Rick Henry Christopher 3 years ago in Poets
She Is Me
She began life as a fragile flower, delicate and beautiful, a precious gift. Shielded and protected fiercely with the untainted skin of innocence. Blessed with a spirit of joy and full expectation - fearlessly facing her triumphs and fear. Still untouched by the brutality that is life, she willingly bared her soul, simply for the joy it brought.
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden3 years ago in Poets
He Believes in His Tomorrow
The noise crescendos across the mountain range, Echo percussions singing the airway, His head raises as his ears pick up the notes,
By Colleen Millsteed 3 years ago in Poets