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.
THE KEY. Top Story - May 2026.
I wrote this poem in 1968 sitting in my room of orange shag carpet, bright blue walls, I wrote this in 1968 after the 1967 Summer of Love. I TYPED ON AN ELECTRIC TYPEWRITER back then. Here are the papers from then, in cursive writing, So when anyone is checking for AI I have the papers.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 6 months ago in Poets
The Big Red Machine
In '76 the Red Machine roared to life, Champions crowned in October's perfect light. Riverfront bled red, steel sharpened into knife. Bench behind the plate, a general for the fight, Perez’s swing, a thunderclap of might. In '76 the Red Machine roared to life. Morgan danced on bases, quicksilver and bright, MVP again, turning walks to flight. Riverfront bled red, steel sharpened into knife. Rose barreled headfirst, reckless with delight, Foster’s bat launched moons into the night. In '76 the Red Machine roared to life. Sparky ran the clubhouse, calm and tight, Gullett and Nolan threw fire, holding tight. Riverfront bled red, steel sharpened into knife. Swept the Phillies, then the Yankees in their plight, Four straight in the Fall, not a game lost in sight. In '76 the Red Machine roared to life— Riverfront bled red, steel sharpened into knife.
By Clyde E. Dawkins6 months ago in Poets
