Best Surreal Poems
Take a deep breath
Let yourself relax
Close your eyes
Come with me
Inhale
Exhale
Let me guide you
I’ll take you on a magical journey
Give in to the moment
Relax
Breathe
Close your eyes
You’re there
You’re there
You’re outside the Taj Mahal
A full moon bathes it in a silver glow
It’s serene
Take all the time you want
Enjoy the scene
There’s no need to hurry
Inhale
Exhale
You’re tired
Winding down
It’s after hours
And no one is around
The stress of your day
Is the coat you take off
One sleeve at a time
Let it drop to your feet
Feel the freedom
Of the weight off your shoulders
Take a deep breath
You’re at the main entrance
You’re calm
Slowly slip off
Each shoe one at a time
Take a deep breath
Listen
It’s just you and the echo of stillness
It’s majestic with the high ceilings
And luscious marble all around you
Listen
Feel the resounding silence
It’s charming and inviting
It’s calling you from within
Go ahead
Follow where it leads
Enter as the richness
Of the silence envelops you
It’s a droning melody
That feels peaceful and safe
Soothing
Beckoning
You feel light
You feel transported
Your feet barely touch the floor
Inhale
Exhale
Stay as long as you like
You’re exactly
Where you need to be
Relax
Take it all in
When you’re ready to leave
Have one last listen
To the melody of silence
Step over your shoes and coat
You might as well
Leave them behind
You don’t need them
Treasure this peacefulness you feel
You’ve earned it
Let it lead the way
To a relaxing evening
Where sleep will sway you
Between the realms
Of fantasy and reality
Breathe
Relax
And enjoy your evening
Read on air by invitation ~ March 13, 2022 'POETS HARBOUR'
AP: Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on August 30, 2021 for YOUR FAVORITE AUGUST 2021 POEM contest sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 1ST
and August 24, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND YOUR CHOICE contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
You taste as if twilight were—
lavender swirling like smoke from the earth
licorice lingering with the full moon’s soft pull
a sweetness both dark and divine.
Your skin sparkles with starlight
electric and soft as moth wings.
We sip the pink sky
lemonade lakes cascade through our fingers
time unspools between our hands
while the past drinks from our open palms.
The air crackles with floating florets
each breath a promise, unspoken but heard.
If love were a color it'd be you—
violet and velvet
honey and slow-mountain dew
the universe holds its breath;
galaxies halt their ancient waltz
as they struggle to name us.
And if forever had a flavor
it would stain my tongue—
sweet, dark, endless—
a love so vast
even creation forgets what came before it.
We are the first poem ever written
and the last song left unsung
our love the verse that never fades—
Just like lavender licorice and lemonade lakes.
The Dark Side of October
Late October moon is waking, through this cemetery shaking,
shaking as the cold wind breaking, walking ‘neath an old oak tree.
Stones like sentries undertaking, guarding graves as hearts are aching,
aching for the still ones staking, such an eerie sight to see –
dark and dreary, I’m so leery, such an eerie sight to see –
is this but a reverie?
In the graveyard shadows shimmer, dark of night is growing dimmer,
dimmer still without a glimmer, shadows ‘round the old oak tree.
Shadows dancing ever nearer, nearer still and getting clearer,
clearer like distorted mirror, twisting ghastly sight to see –
growing vastly, looming lastly, such a ghastly sight to see –
certainly a reverie?
Piercing sounds are penetrating, ear drums deafening pulsating,
ringing louder, devastating, echoes off the old oak tree.
Echoes bouncing screeching grating, ever louder agitating,
instigating, fears creating, from this ghoulish sight to see –
Am I mulish, maybe foolish, such a ghoulish sight to see –
surely just a reverie?
In the dark my head is spinning, round and round these sights imprinting,
fusing on my brain beginning, questioning my sanity.
All these sights and sounds are weighing, weighing as the ghouls are playing
playing as they do their preying, preying on my vanity –
I am praying, ghouls are swaying, preying on my vanity –
have I lost my sanity?
Eerie night just seems persisting, lasting as my mind is twisting,
waiting for daylight’s assisting, lighting up the old oak tree.
Eerie sights and sounds now fading, dark of night for daylight trading,
light of day is now invading, leaving me to clearly see –
seeing nearly, life so dearly, oh so clearly now I see –
must have been a reverie…..
or have I lost my sanity?
July 26, 2018
Pirate women permeate my spaces.
They are fierce and fabulous.
You dare not lie to them.
They will cut you to shreds, with their swords.
Cut you to ribbons.
I do not crouch in fear.
I created them.
They are ruthless, savage,
out for blood.
Thirsty for it.
I walk their planks proudly.
Eager for the drowning
that awaits.
When the first glimpse
of silver crescent
sprinkles citrine dust,
sparkling pink brooks
spring forth,
flowing through
emerald green forests.
Moss covered Pine
trees spread their branches,
reaching towards
the setting amber sun.
Cherry blossom clouds
coat the dusky horizon,
unfurling lilac lavender
hues amidst the
paper-cut skyline,
and the last beam
of light starts to
fade into nocturnal bliss.
The twilight nightingale
can be heard,
comforting us
in the distance.
Lulling us to a
restful slumber
under the star
blanketed stratosphere.
And something
about the way
warm marshmallow
threads entwine
with mulberry tints,
reminds me that
every ending
is a synonym
to new beginnings.
Yet, I tell the
caviar smeared sunsets
about our
secret collaborations,
questioning the glowing
gold of Swarovski
rings splattered across
the evening sky,
incensed with
the fragrance of jasmine
that lingers on
the summer breeze.
Will blushing
sangria streaks,
stretch their feathers,
paint my blazing
heart of hurt in
vermilion stars?
or is this love,
another passing
phase, like the waning
sighs of moonrise?
I wait while wandering in empty dreams,
where everyone is lost and dying slow.
And in the distance are, unheard, the screams
of anguished souls I’ll never come to know.
The winds blow hot or cold here, rarely cool.
Leaves flutter out of sight, disintegrate.
Relief, if ever found, is minuscule.
I do not even know for what I wait!
I’m drifting with the leaves as they change hue,
concealed among them as they fall to ground.
And as they crumble, I’ll be crumbling too,
alone (as souls unknown hear not my sound).
And still I roam inside this wait I keep,
unwilling to awaken from this sleep.
posted 3/27/21
N/A in the All Yours (Mar 19) Poetry Contest
judged 3/18/2021
For William Kekaula's Final 2021 N-A Choice 3 Poetry Contest
green
yellow
violet
indigo
blue
orange
red
pot
of
gold
&
leprechaun
AP: 3rd place 2023, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on July 5, 2019 for contest VERSE A FAVORED FORM sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Be it evidence consequence or coincidence
Every night as I succumb to somnolence
Heavenly smoke rings of frankincense
Rise upwards with sweet opulence
Dulcet dreams inevitably commence
Without fanfare hype or pretense
While sweet loving arms of providence
Wrap around me a shroud of benevolence
Under a scented canopy of impermanence
Ablaze with the aura of glowing confidence
Revealing universal secrets of magnificence
I humbly bow in unpretentious reverence
Adrift in solitude so many nights hence
I reminisce of nostalgia in the past tense
AP: 2nd place 2020
Submitted on June 6, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE (3) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
I dreamed I was inside a bulb—
a cathedral of filament and glass—
not dead
not born…..
but shumming**.
Glass walls curved like time
sealed but translucent
my fingers curled around voltage
like a secret
God was transcending.
The socket hummed a lullaby
of static.
Every breath of mine made sparks
the air electric
with grief
and longing.
I saw myself outside the bulb
in a room wallpapered with eyes—
each iris twitching
like a seismograph.
They watched
as I shimmered like an angel
in a jar of fire
as if I were proof
of something
too holy
or too hideous
to name.
The room beyond
glistened with wallpapered surveillance—
each gaze a blink
each blink
a test of identity
a hymn of entropy
and wonder.
I touched the glass—
cool as frozen memory
thin as a promise—
and the world on the other side
shuddered
like a dream woken
too soon
My thoughts turned tungsten—
spiraled
stubborn
resisting
the spark of enlightenment
or extinction
I spoke
and the words bent back
like boomerangs
buzzing
with static regret
A child approached
barefoot
real
impossibly tender…..
She looked like someone
I might have loved
if time had taken pity.
She placed her palm on the bulb—
her skin against my sorrow
the warmth of it
startling
as mercy
a forgiveness.
“Why are you in there?”
she asked
or perhaps
thought—
her voice the color
of candlelight.
I tried to answer
but my vocal cords was hardwired
my tongue
a fuse
My words came back
distorted
looped
charred
as if language
were combustible.
For a moment
I flickered
between purpose
and obliteration
Then
the ceiling cracked open
like a wound
and light poured down—
not to reveal
like revelation
like judgment—
to burn away
the questions
And I understood—
not everything illuminated
is meant to be seen
not all vision
is freedom…..
Some truths
are meant to flicker
fragile and holy
inside the bulb of the soul
unspoken
unchosen
alive.
================
**Shumming: Shimmering Humming
Sipping the
Poisoned, dark
Inky medicine..
I am Remiscent of a
strange Alchemy
silently lulLing the
unsuspecting Lovers
surreptitiously Into the twisty,
snakey, turNy underworld of
Gnarly trees and
rootS that writhe to
triP the unwary heart.
a pastIche of memory that
Reminds of
Alluring all
the Lost souls
sLowly
Into the
Nocturnal
Gaze of the
omniScient
ever Present,
ever lovIng
fatheR and creator
of All things;
indeLible,
everLasting,
consIstently
eNgaged for
Goodness
if I were not me
who else would you be
my thoughts slip away
your memories fray
let’s go plant a tree
The ***********
It has no brain
yet it outsmarts
many little red funny caps
thanks to them
xi virus
will be great again
For This Is The Story, An Old Poet Sought Not To Miss
(Part One)
I've ate Eden's last apple, coveted Jason's* golden fleece
chained myself in caverns of darkness, begging no release
refused mighty crowns of power, fed myself painful feasts
crushed my beating heart, as if it were a ravenous beast.
I've tamed the lions of Serengeti, sailed around the Horn*
trekked unarmed, darkest jungles, where fiercest beasts are born
slain dragons with Sequoias, tossed Rock of Gibraltar*
walked in realms of Hades, spat upon its first altar.
I've outran Hermes*, sank my teeth deep into granite walls
sat beside Odin*, gave Thor's* first crown in Valhalla's* halls
wrestled mighty Minotaur*, its armored hide I ripped
stole the Nectar of the Gods*, laughed at them as I sipped.
I've shot Eurytus' bow*, killed Titans* with Heracles sword*
defeated dark Elf* armies, massacred Atilla's* first horde
swung Hammer of Hephaestus*, slept in Forest of Burzee*
trained Arminius army, taught them to show no mercy.
I've quenched Vesuvius fires, held lightning in my hand
flew bright skies over Asgard*, defended its precious homelands
swam with Undines*, feasted with beautiful Amphitrites*
fished with friend Ao Qin*, dragon king of the Southern Sea nights.
I've seen this world of fantasy, inked its splendor in words
sailed in its oceans of love and flown with magical birds
dreamed in its word-paradise and found true love's deepest kiss
for this is the story, an old poet sought not to miss.
Robert J. Lindley
Rhyme
original version written , March 9th, 1977
edited/updated today- August 9th , forty-one years later
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
a lazy stream
meanders
under
sullen
midday sun
beneath
a rustic
wooden bridge
regal koi fish
ride
ceremoniously
humbled
glistening
glittering
rippling
gentle flowing waves
~
Published in my photo/poetry book ~KOI POND~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 29, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE T sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST