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.

Martin Luther Was Important To The "History Channel" - So Why Are You Telling Me This Now !??
Why is he staring through, as if he knew what to do !? A little muppet I suppose, assuming this is something that makes sense !?
By 365poetry6 days ago in Poets
Cubs Win! Cubs Win!
The Cubs of '16 rose to claim their due, One hundred eight long years of endless night, Through drought and goat and shadow, they broke through.
By Clyde E. Dawkins6 days ago in Poets
The Lost Ring
I turned the drawer inside out again last night, fingers chasing dust and old receipts. The small gold band that once circled your finger
By John Smith6 days ago in Poets
Passed Through The Keyhole
you smile at me your tongue in cheek a kind distorted simile misguiding everything I see into this thing you want to be
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden6 days ago in Poets
subservient
you enjoy peeling the scales flesh ripped away from my eyes till I am blindly transparent and over dramatized fearfully irrelevant
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden6 days ago in Poets
Am I Special Enough?
I wish that I were special Different in some way Would you then notice me? Maybe even stop to say good day Would you be my special friend
By Calvin London7 days ago in Poets
The Digital Sanctuary
In the year 2026, the world was no longer measured in miles, but in megabits. The city of Orizon was a frantic, neon-soaked hive where every surface was a screen and every silence was a missed opportunity for an advertisement. Information didn't just flow; it flooded. People walked with their heads down, bathed in the restless blue light of their handhelds, their minds vibrating at the jagged frequency of a thousand different notifications.
By Imran Ali Shah7 days ago in Poets
Swimming Through Air 🏊‍♀️🌬️💨
I used to have dreams of swimming through air. Not flying, not floating… swimming through air. Maybe it’s on a planet with less gravity and heavier air. That’s what my adult self thought about it, thinks about it…
By Gabriel Shames7 days ago in Poets
skEYE
What if the skies are god's eyes? Dark clouds spot her irises With blazing sun pupils Her gaze grows the roots in my garden
By Lolly Vieira7 days ago in Poets
I Smell Spring
I Talked As My Higher-Self To The Universe And I Watched As My Mentality Changed Because Of My Commandments... Departed From Broken Dreams And Saturated with Love On The Journey, Together Here And Now... We Couldn't Let It Go, So I Guess, Now We Wait... They Released The Shackles, And God Leads The Way... Miracles Are The Stories, That Connect To Your Soul... I Accept Change And Welcome Room For Growth... I'd Rather Be Whole And Build With My Equal... No One Completes The Other Half Of Your Being... Plant Your Seeds In Life And Water Yourself Frequently... You Are Who You Need, You Are What You Believe ✨️ 💛
By HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)7 days ago in Poets
The Echo Architect
In the year 2084, the city of Orizon didn’t just look like a metropolis; it sounded like a masterpiece. In a world where digital data had become sensory, memories were no longer stored in "clouds"—they were woven into physical soundscapes. These were the "Echoes," invisible architectural layers of sound that clung to the walls of homes and the cobblestones of plazas.
By Imran Ali Shah7 days ago in Poets
diversions
those selective selfies in an edited prose supernatural effigies surrounded by crows a murderous journey where the wounds never close
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden7 days ago in Poets