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.
True lines poetry.
It's not like that that it doesn't matter to us we often become silent thinking this That there is no such thing as love in debate.
Support us
You have come a long way. wait a bit trust us . we don't even know of our destiny wait a bit in grooming it Support us.
Does traumatic darkness engulf the light that one embodies?
The unsatiated anger that blinded the sights of glee, In the erratic ferocity of animosity, he pushed away the light that everyone could see.
Hridya SharmaPublished 8 days ago in PoetsGrace
* Ask me in December When wishes float like snow flakes to the ground Hopes and dreams linger without a sound The gift of love surpasses doubt
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 8 days ago in PoetsPoint Nemo
Extinct have gone the novices of time. It's not the damned that have been erased but the rustic and the lame. Trapped beneath camouflage and outdated routines. They carved their misfortunes in bone but I have carved nothing, Still waiting for my turn at evolution. The misguided burned their hands with the fire they created. Discovering stolen weapons and reshaped maps. Surviving by doing the most mediocre and mundane. The divided society within me must be restored. You wouldn't allow me to eat at the table because you occupied all the seats. A civil war has erupted inside of me and the terrorist you became has ridiculed me long enough. I was the caveman drawing scriptures on the brand new walls while you claimed to be the new messiah. You drove me to the edge of the world and left me there on the side of the unpaved road, alone. I prepared cobblestones into fortified statues and citadels. I created epochs and enduring eras. I harvested the best that resided within me but you always doubted me. You projected false appearances in order to rise above. Everything I did was never enough. You conquered distant lands and exotic societies but you couldn't tame your own ignorance. I'm not the historic ape kept in a gilded cage for your own amusement. I am the next stage of natural selection while you are in rapid decline. Your words are unknown now because language has progressed faster than your own tongue. This massive shift is the iceberg launching itself into the salty ocean. You shrink and withdraw while I migrate and advance. Go and retreat while you still can. I will not be lessened by the likes of you. Diminish your own idleness and I will succeed where you already failed. My work is not yet done. I am a continuous web of developing perfection. You couldn't make me go extinct. This word doesn't apply to me anymore. My limbs have evolved into wings and you will watch as they soar
Anna TorresPublished 9 days ago in PoetsHarboring Happiness - Day 5
Today in harboring happiness, I wear layers: one for the heat of a spring too eager to be summer, another for comfort.
Sam Eliza GreenPublished 9 days ago in PoetsAmbulance Ambivalence
Ambivalence rests Under crisp white sheets last night She woke, he woke, they
Rowan FinleyPublished 9 days ago in PoetsThe dog metaphor is tired
A dog I've seen before runs behind a tree I can't decide if I have to follow or to turn around and find the street White rabbit or yellow brick road
Joni ÉcritPublished 9 days ago in Poets- Top Story - May 2024
we all slum it in the end
we all slum it in the end even when we turn dirt to gold refuse to do what we're told turn gold to dirt refuse to do
Paul StewartPublished 9 days ago in Poets The rain it never stops...
dr i p drop dr i p pitter pitter patter pitter dr i p patterns richer richer patterns pitter patter pitter dr i p drop dr i p
Paul StewartPublished 9 days ago in PoetsWoman
Woman, a force of nature, born of fire and earth, forged in the crucible of adversity, she rises, unyielding. In her eyes, a spark of defiance, in her heart, a reservoir of courage, she strides through life's battlegrounds, a warrior, undefeated.
Lisa FrederickPublished 9 days ago in PoetsKeys
My keys don’t jingle jangle They’re a tale of tales A web of confusion Sewn to protect what I hold dear A tool A mechanism
Atomic HistorianPublished 9 days ago in Poets