Best Surreal Poems | Poetry

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New Surreal Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Surreal poems are below this new poems list.

Love Surreal by del fierro, jay
WHEN TIME IS SURREAL by cooper, jack
Surreal Dream by Miltz, Daniel
A Surreal Dream by Pinet, Emile
A Surreal Dream and Message by Dabbs, Marqese
This is my surreal by Raynes, Lewis
Everything Turns Surreal by Pinet, Emile
Surreal and Daft by Babbit, DM
Surreal and Daft by Dietrich, Andrea
SURREAL AND DAFT by Dutta, Anisha

View all new Surreal Poems

The Best Surreal Poems

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The Muse Said Write

The Muse said, "Write!" and so I raised my pen,
Not knowing quite just what to do, but then
I found myself within a forest, tall,
Where all the leaves were words, both great and small.
I looked around in wonder, and in awe,
At all the dream-like magic that I saw.

A violent wind came down and shook each tree,
Till every leaf-word fell in front of me.
I gathered all I could, but quickly found
They all began to crumble on the ground!
"Too late!" the Muse cried out, "Your time has gone!"
The words had turned to dust now - every one!

I heard the Muse say, "You shall write no more!"
As icy gusts of wind cut to the core.
I fought back tears, believing what she'd said,
Then suddenly awoke, in my own bed!
A dream - a nightmare! But now sweet relief!
I sighed; I laughed; and banished was my grief!






Copyright © Robert Haigh | Year Posted 2018


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Told The Raven To Hush

Two have a secret , of touchy and feel
Hearing about it, and how it was surreal 

Two people who spent grown up time
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb

Telling the Raven, she's afraid it won't last
Saying don't worrry, dont live in the past

Strangers became friends, in a grown way
Will it now continue , or just be for that day

Telling the Raven , no lover could compare
And no one needs know, of the sultry affair

Time continues as always, only time will tell
As it did then igniting ,every last nerve cell

Said it was hours , well into that night
To wake and continue, again was just right

Stories told the Raven, had me even blush
And their secret is safe, the Raven says hush

Safe it will remain , but I just had to write
What i as the Raven had seen, while in flight





Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2017


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THE STORM

I BUTTON THE SHUTTERS HIGH AND LOW,
AS HIGH STRONG WINDS BEGIN TO BLOW. 
A NIGHT OF TERROR BEFORE MY EYES,
AS DARK GRAY CLOUDS HAVE FILLED THE SKIES 

I MAKE READY THE FIREPLACE  TO PROVIDE SOME HEAT. 
TO WARM THE HOUSE AND MY FEET. 
I TAKE TO MY CHAIR WITH AN UNCORKED BRANDY. 
MY RAINCOAT AND BOOTS STAND BY HANDY. 

LIGHTNING STRIKES AS THE CLOCK STRIKES TEN. 
A NIGHT OF HORROR HAS YET TO END. 
I READ MY NOVEL TO PASS THE NIGHT. 
THIS STORM SHOULD SUBSIDE BY MORNING LIGHT. 

POURING RAIN KNOCKS AT THE DOOR. 
A DRAFT CREEPS IN AROUND THE FLOOR. 
FULL FIERCE WINDS NOW PREVAIL 
AND BRING WITH THEM BALLS OF HAIL. 

SWIRLING WINDS RIP THE SHUTTER FREE. 
A DEADLY STORM IN PURSUIT OF ME. 
THUNDEROUS ROARS COME AND GO. 
A FULL MOON LIT WITH A STRANGE DARK GLOW. 

HOWLING WINDS RATTLE THE GLASS. 
ICE COLD RAINS WATER THE GRASS. 
AT 4 AM I POUR A BRANDY. 
I GRAB MY FLASHLIGHT I KEEP HANDY. 

I CHECK THE HOUSE FOR SUDDEN LEAKS. 
THIS WICKED STORM HAS REACHED IT'S PEAK. 
OUTSIDE THE WINDOW A NICE SURPRISE. 
ON THE HORIZON A NEW SUNRISE.

LIGHTS ARE OUT, THROUGHOUT THE TOWN.
CLEARING SKIES SEEM INBOUND. 
THIS WICKED STORM LOOKS TO PASS. 
BUT NOT BEFORE LEAVING A TREE ON MY GRASS. 

ONE MORE BRANDY I SHALL POUR. 
BEFORE I OPEN MY FRONT DOOR.
NOW THAT THE STORM HAS GONE AWAY. 
I'LL ASSESS THE DAMAGE THROUGHOUT THE DAY.



Copyright © Michael E. Harris | Year Posted 2016


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In Emerald Shadows

Trying to hide in conspicuous places
a night on the town in their false, plastic faces.
Sweetly they sweep through magnificent halls,
top-dollar galas and masquerade balls -- 
where always the wine is more bitter than sweet,
each girl wishing for love in her ruby-clad feet.

Perhaps scarecrows are thoughtful, and lions are brave,
and the tin-men know passion, such a boisterous parade
of hopeful young suitors, each waiting his chance
to find a young lady and win her last dance. 

All tied up as prisoners with satin-silk chains
they listlessly dance as the hope from them drains.
A piano-man plinks only on the black keys:
pentatonic winds on a pentatonic breeze,
still not enough blowing to carry balloons
or to start raining houses from cyclic typhoons.

The evening draws on -- long beyond the moon’s rising,
a faint glinting of green from the city’s disguising
the envious looks in the eyes of the witches
and harsh threatening gales of the wind as it switches.
And no one is happy, none are finding their prize --
no one knows what they want, nor removes their disguise.
So the dancing is pointless, bravado is hollow
no wizardly magic can fix what will follow.

Shallow connections that lead nowhere, and quickly
the ballroom grows quiet, the witches grow prickly
the lions go fleeing, the scarecrows are clueless,
the tin-men don’t care, and that makes them the cruelest
For out in the public, among all the noise
some girls have gone missing -- and so have some boys
and in the dark shadows, all knew what occurred
but they whisper and gossip, and spread what they heard:
that it must have been mutual, it must be alright
they’re both grown adults, let’s not be so uptight.
And thus they all hide, in conspicuous places
enabling the culprits with false, plastic faces.

9/4/16


Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2016


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A Cup

It started with a cup.
The cup turned into a bottle.
The bottle made an addiction.
Addiction morphed into violence.
Violence grew into destruction.
Destruction Destroyed reason.
The reason delivered abuse.


-Fox


Copyright © Kennediey gray | Year Posted 2017


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My Sun is Orange

my Sun is Orange

my morning Sun is orange
The yellow is stained
with the Blood of my People
for that is what we
are reminded of
each day

when it rises from the East
to greet the world
i see my world
clearly

we once lived with a hope
that the atrocities of Hate
War
and indifference
would go away
but it did not

my hope has been misplaced
somewhere
and i can not remember
where i have set it down

it might have been that day
i lost my arm
or that day
when my Father was jailed
or that day
when my Sister was killed
she was only 3

no, i think i lost my hope
the day
my Mother no longer cried

her eyes have been dry
for many a year now
and somehow
by some grace
she still has enough love in her
to hug me
once in a while
through that pained smile
that still adorns her face
just so she won’t completely break

there is a noise i hear
it is a loud silence
that stays with me
through my callousness
for the gunfire
and the bombs
and the screams
i can not hear them

they have long ago
assaulted and killed
the dreams of my Family
my village
my people
and it is now working on
Humanity

where is the sanity
in this methodology
to be found

every day is “Ground Zero”
where i live
every where i look
i see Ground Zeros
and we have lost count
of those who
are no more
because of what you call War

but you and i
never had a dispute
that i know of
If so, please tell me what i did wrong
to cause you harm
that you should exact such wretchedness
upon me
and others like me

i know not of the Politics
of it all.
i have never met a Politician
are they so different
than we the people ?

if it’s Oil
i give it to you
if it’s right
take it freely
i will not raise nor put my hand
against that
of my Father’s children

there was a time
when all i thought of
was simply
finding Joy in my life
i have since given up that quest
for i see far too much
of that other stuff
which deserves not a name

my Sun is no longer Yellow
but i do pray my Brother
that yours is

my Sun is Orange

This is dedicated to all the Villages, Peoples across our Globe who must endure the Politics and Sickness of War.


© 1 July 2013 : william s. peters, sr.






Copyright © William Peters | Year Posted 2018


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Brief Encounter

brief encounter

a man invisible
but for his wit
landed on my world 
lightly it seemed 
until he left


Copyright © PATRICIA CRESSWELL | Year Posted 2017


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Because Education Is Important

The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her bosom out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?” 

The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”

“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully. 

“Apple. That's an apple tree.” 

“Oh! Does it bear fruits?” 

“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.





---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 30 / 11 / 2016
Contest: James Tate
Sponsor: Space Cadet


Copyright © Tamal Kundu | Year Posted 2016


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May I Dance With You


May I dance with you now as ghosts ride by with the breeze,
     and that old witch on her broom flies on by past the moon.
While big, black cats with green eyes stare at us from the trees,
     we'll glide past jack-o-lanterns as we sway and we swoon.

This dark night sky is on fire with red moon's eerie glow;
     silhouettes of the treetops and house roofs hug the sky
as the spirits surround us, in the darkness we know
     we will dance, cheek to cheek, on this grand night, you and I.

Dance with me, come in closer as bats swirl all around;
     all night creatures are watching as I hold you so tight.
While owls screech, my fangs pierce!  I, Dracula, love the sound
     of enjoying my blood feast this great Halloween night!

Yes!  It is me, don't you see?  Dance is done!  I have won!


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: Halloween Scare
Sponsor: Russell Sivey
Judged: 11/09/2017

Rules: 13 lines, 13 syllables per line 
169 syllables total checked with howmanysyllables.com
----------------------
~1st Place~
Contest: May I Dance With You
Sponsor: Galeo DS
Judged: 10/31/2016 
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter 







Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016


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THE OLD MAN WITH ONE SHOE

It was a homeless old man near a shoe store who fell asleep 
He was so tired that nap turned to a sleep that was deep
A little boy walked passed with his mother and noticed that the old man had one shoe
He felt sad, “mother it’s something I just got to do!”
That little boy face was full of tears
His little heart grew big because he cared
He grabbed both of his mother’s hand and tightly grasped them leading her into prayer
After the short and quick prayer, “Mom I was just told to share.”
He had ten dollars from his allowances that he saved for weeks
His mother didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t even speak
Immediately he rushed in the shoe store and asked the clerk how much was that one black wing tip shoe
The clerk had a big smile and said it was thirty-two
Every customer and fellow employee gave money to make the little boy prayer come true
Instead of thirty-two dollars he now had sixty four
He quickly grabbed the shoe box and ran out the door
The little boy shook the old man out of his sleep and gave him the box
When the old man woke up his eyes was full of tears and he was shocked
Big crocodile tears rolled down his face
He grabbed the little boy and gave him the tightest embrace
The old man yelled, “This is the best gift yet!”
Some say the old man got up and danced until the sun set

Mark 12:30-31 (NIV) Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’[a] 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] There is no commandment greater than these.”


Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2016


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Scene From A Bike Ride


Like a royal parade,
they waddled across
the well traveled thoroughfare
teeming with autos crawling to a stop;
otherwise road rage reduced to admiration.

The regal drake held his head high—his eyes
piercing straight ahead—oblivious to the traffic.
The obeisance of his trailing brace
reflected a solemn reverence to their chief.

A mother hen shot an evil eye to a baby Donald
who quickly got back in step before exiting onto 
the dew laden emerald grass—Glistering.
 
With the aura of a spa for creatures
bearing wings or fins or tails, as well as feet,
the pond awaited them—one by one
quacking with pleasure as they entered.

As we mounted our bikes
to continue our ride, auto horns
began to honk and obscene words
abated the serene ambiance.


Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2017


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Fire

Flames of desire mesmerize
Instantly provocative to tantalize
Recklessly smoldering embers stirred
Enticing arousal... seduction occurs
 
Stoking the fire again and again
No strings attached is only plan
Both have reasons to turn away
Smoke exhausts all reasons one day
 
Forbidden sex arouses all senses
Ghost voyeurs char pretenses
Once guilt and shame are activated
Hardcore explosions... incinerated
 
No strings attached cannot persevere
Fire leaves ashes of all we hold dear


Written 5-3-2016


Copyright © Susan Gentry | Year Posted 2016


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Dear Son

Street Cries

Son remember this gentle kiss can hide filthyness of feature events

As I converse to his innocence

Our time spent precious in a world reckless hectic dieses infected

Praying he receive the message knowing his faith is tested

Make sure your hearts protected this world leaves you breathless if you let it

Never forget it pops said it when you realize in due time we have street cries

Don't be suprised truth they undermine hide slide lies make sure your on point Jackson five

They penilize those crossing lines decide to open wide

Supply masses their plans of genocide that's why mysterious people die

Classified chemical envasion replacing brain stimulation Intensifies sensation stem cell occupations

Secret military stations nations at war destroying creation

This is what you facing lust chaseing digital information generation

Be aware of were trust you placing food you tasting

F.D.A gets away everyday putting unhealth on shelf increasing wealth

Make sure to obtain knowledge of self
Welcome to the new world hope this conversation helps peace






Copyright © Street Cries | Year Posted 2017


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SURREALIST PAINTING

                SURREALIST PAINTING

                In nospace
                            are there no things
                                   but
                being aware of existence
                            things manifest
                                   and                         
                             look like this!

                              Dave Austin




Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2016


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My Head is a Monster

My head is a monster my monster's a head
it's clawing and tearing my right mind to shreds

My heart is a devil, it fights just for hell
my lovesick affection is not doing well

My lungs are my prison, they keep me held in
they won't let me breath nor escape panic's din

My feet are my anchor, which should keep me from frowning
but anchors are not very helpful when drowning


Copyright © Anna Nomaly | Year Posted 2016


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Autumn-Brown

They call this condition, September blind.
Secret eyes peek from silky autumn-brown.
On lifting wisps of wind, her scent does find --
A head adorned with thorny, lovelorn crown.

In the warming wet; in our blissful smiles;
On banana-bikes; on mossy-rock shores --
Our union dropped by circumstantial trials
That divide one love into distant doors.

In space-time loops I will search forever --
And, once again, until that plain I find.
From nebulous clouds to Heaven's lever.
I sense her ... so near -- but, I cannot bind!

In-between two 'verses she lives and dies.
How does one cross those parallel skies?

September 1, 2016
English Sonnet 3 - Poetry Contest


Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016


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Escaping Rita

Chased mercilessly 
over well- worn tar 
palpable loss pushes 
a sable brush 
dunked in dread
a furious deluge
of fear 
 oozes out
blackens every inch
 of familiar landscape
what if’s 
eat through 
 the still static blue horizon
making a meal 
of unborn dreams 
slaked only by
hastily grabbed 
history 
coupled with 
ragged spirits 
 that desperately 
haul hope north 
safe haven 
on strange soil 
still dark hours
 away 


Copyright © April Johnson | Year Posted 2016


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Blessing Time

Gone is the time to fear any omen
bubbling like a city of fine women
fate never assumes
as bad luck so fumes
the hour has come as life says amen.


Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2017


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My Ms Universe

With the rays of the sun I'll make her crown
With the fabric of space I'll make her gown
With the rings of Saturn I'll make her throne
With the universe for her stage may her reign
last forever
Long live the queen.

Written by Keith Edward Baucum


Copyright © Keith Baucum | Year Posted 2017


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In the depths of winter

Hans and Liam caught in the depths of winter
Hans is succumbing cold to the center
He is sharpening his death spades
Do you see the frost giant slowly coming for me
He will cut me asunder with his blades
They're snow drifts a grove with icicles in the trees
I see an army of icy dwarfs all sparkling eyed
Silver blue and fire they breathe
I must disrobe before I burn inside
It is the moonlit snow a cold fog beneath
The snow queen has sent her stinging bees
Her wintery eyes are set on me they do glow gold
There is hope brother there is fire beyond the freeze
and it is only flakes in the wind and not death’s cold


Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2016


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Bizarre

Have you ever heard tales of the weirdest things Autumn leaves that fall in the midst of Spring creepy two-headed toads cats who sit on a commode Devilish people pretending to have angel wings Dogs that bark but sound more like mewing cats In bright sunlight flying, a flock of Vampire bats How many can you name It's just a guessing game Some things in life are so bizarre and that's that written by Lin Lane I wrote about saying goodbye Some rejoiced, yet others did cry It got poem of the day Did it deserve it – no way! I’ll be quiet when I say bye bye written by Jan Allison A rat getting burned for a slice of cheese one legged dancer doing a striptease the absurd, the aloof snakes crawling on a roof penthouse living with someone else's keys written by Tim Smith I'm not allowed to pet the cat when I do he has a spat leaving a mess Without distress He puts it all on the mat written by Russell Sivey


Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017


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Beware the Dawn of Bitter Light

Beware the dawn of bitter light
Breaking bows of arcing flight

Casting sails full of schemes
Drifting, fading, lucid screams

Beware the myriad of twirling hues
Miles away from waking ruse

A brazen thief of peaceful bliss
Plunder, pillage, a devil’s kiss

Beware the day of hollow woes
Waning moonlight ivory doze

Longing for a wink of sleep
Touching, holding, you I keep

The fear of day, it haunts me so
For morrow comes and dreams must go


Copyright © Andreanna Escamilla | Year Posted 2017


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Poetic release

Perfect time of Day,
Where emotions that have haunted me in Sleep have somehow stilled at bay.
My Hand once covered in rust,
Now have particles falling as I write in a rush....
Thoughts and words alike all in a rush.
My pen can hardly seem to keep up,
As this unexplainable substance fills my once empty cup
I feel as though I could write till my hand surrender's in pure discomfort 
As I fully submerge into this feeling...... Feeling of never ending fulfillment 

Nothing is like the release of a poetess,
As she fully succumbs to the pent up emotions -thoughts that have until now left her restless.


Copyright © Ettie Christian | Year Posted 2016


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Fromage, James Tate Style

I once shocked you
by my Queen Maud Fromage poem,
remembering a time
when the good Queen Maud
choked on the heavy stuff.

Her courtiers were 
about her suddenly,
and Queen Maud was
thumped on royal back
most thoroughly...

Thoroughly, yes thoroughly...
I have it on good report.
A doctor would not lie to me
about Queen Maud, now,
would he so?

The event put Queen off
the cheese for life
and she forbade it in the larder
or else her staff
taste strife.


---------------------------------------------

10/13/2016

Contest  - Give Me Your Best James Tate

Sponsor - Space Cadet

4th place win


Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2016


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1st Heaven

Powdery white, puffy cotton candy mountain clouds. 
Blue watery blue skies a mile high. 
Birds dancing by.
Sun sparkling, glistening beaming bright:
Luminous radiant light.
This is an experiential feeling; 
1st, Heaven like!



Copyright © Ronald A. Williams | Year Posted 2017