Best Surreally Poems
Easter will again be here and very soon,
But Easter brings sadness I cannot seem to prune.
After my Mother left, Easter's not the same
Since our Lord, to bring her home, called upon her name.
Easter this year in two thousand and eighteen
Will be even harder, I cannot contravene.
For my little girl, who's not so little any more
Will spend this Easter far away, on a distant shore.
So many memories of Easter though, will decorate my brain,
As I turn back the clock, letting all share the reign.
All the Easter baskets and the Easter hunts so fun,
Each memory I dust off carefully, every precious one.
I'll watch the Ten Commandments, keep our tradition true,
Remembering Easter's true meaning, Jesus is why we do.
When God Sacrificed His Son, what a Sacrifice He made,
For through the Blood of Jesus, our sins for, He paid.
When I think of God being stricken so with profound grief
To watch His Son suffer on the cross forbidden of relief,
This brings to mind surreally the magnitude of pain
I'm unable to comprehend and my tears I can't restrain.
For I think of my daughter and all those overseas,
Who put their lives on the line without guarantees
They'll come home safe and sound when their tour is done
And also, all the families who've lost a dear, loved one.
I know this is not the same but I more so realize
And I am humbled so profoundly as I can't visualize
The cost of God's Sacrifice because God so Loves us all
And to my knees it brings me, for I can only God, extol.
Easter 2018 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
2018-03-30
Fun time and flight
A clock from Salvador Dali warped and draped in place
surreally oozing the minutes from birth to demise in a
landscape of our own making of how we narrate life and
the story filled with passion love disappointment transition…
Paintings of words and brushed colours danced song
oiled voices splash meaning fly along our journey for
when bells toll time-pieces chime ‘Chronos’ floats in
remembrance anticipation flights of fancy and escape…
Strange and humorous those days past realigned by
the present one blink and the moment is gone while
the river flows around us never the same as time stands
still and ticks just the same cascades the rapids of life…
Sequential on one hand of the clock times counts and
alludes to one thing leading to other like a winged relic
of reasoned emotion with intuition significance left behind
intervals measured and quantified like delusions of science…
Can ‘Kairos’ the indeterminate yet permanent quality
of en-lived stories and en-storied lives of narration and
lined context fly just the same when epiphanies last forever
when what matters most positions the other hand firmly…
Time journeys meanders along the path both forward and
backward remembering the future and changing the past
that is how both ‘Chronos’ and ‘Kairos’ move neck-breaking
speed’s painful arrest when Dali’s meaning melts us together…
It seems funny how and when times fly or when we placidly reason that
our perspective is moving and not the clock after all
05th October 2016 flying past or is it?
The dragonflies danced in the crisp Maine air
on a draft from the ocean deep.
Their delicate wings teased the breeze
high up on Mount Battie’s Peak.
Blue-black they flew like the night time sky,
as the mica flecked granite shone,
Seeking nectar sweet from blueberries bushes
and their small white flowers’ cones.
The silvered sea was surreally framed by
a multitude of human eyes;
Dotted with miniature sailing boats
A scene full of wonder and sighs.
HER WONDERFUL MOTHER NATURE
Once upon her entering and exiting
Her comings and goings
Groceries, gym or mall
Mother Nature made the mirrors love her
All-knowing reflection,
No adjustments needed...
Please...not one correction
Causing confusion, she's unflawed
Everywhere, in every room, claiming, stealing all attention
Gorgeous green eyed-snake women start hissing,
Salivating, half-dog half-men, jaws stuck, stalled
Remember her...Oh, don't they all?
She and I, sometimes engage in
A carefully unscripted conversation
And so from mine own imagination...I will share
She leaves the world, with rare...souvenirs
Letting us know she was near
A trace of her intimidating yet inviting, invisible scent
Where her valuable diamond time was spent
But none free to spare
A lost, left behind, strand of hair
A walking razor
Her shadow click-clacks in,
Legs, classily crossed ladylike, saddled that lucky chair
Sipped only a pair of cocktails,
Her figure a musical note, a cursive signature,
Her FORM flows, dips smooth and full
Stunning, so easily capturing us all
Her smile, does accurately spell
The wonderful definition of the word Beautiful...
Look her up in the dictionary my friend
For she is a non-fictional woman
Strong-her world has gravitational pull you apart
Aquarius without a speck of ugliness
In February she effortlessly
Valentines a fool's heart
Can never look messily
That is quite improbably, an impossibility
Surreally painted together perfectly
Like a Dali nude canvass on art,
Breathing...responding...moving
Wonderful Mother Nature, knew exactly what she was doing
Marvelously done, on her part.
Sometimes Sister Sarah seems subjugated
Sometimes she seems simply silly,
Sometimes she suddenly screeches shrilly
Sometimes she sounds sophisticated,
Sometimes Sister Sarah shrugs surreally.
written August 26, 2021
[playing with words when my muse
was stubbornly aloof!]
Let’s relax along mentorship pleasure
to bask in varied students’ excuses when facing pressure
as they abound for sure…
Learner A says, “There is a lion in the way”
so I’m late for the reporting schedule today
hope to fulfill it later, I pray.
Learner B uses blame game, insinuating
“the serpent beguiled me” into such tainting
thus, I succumbed to the ranting.
Learner C retorts with confidence reign
“the dove returned not again”
when asked of his assignment he forgot in vain.
Learner D enumerates alibis to cover negligence
even citing Balaam’s talking ass confronting guilty conscience
pledging to show next time enduring diligence.
Learner E lets absenteeism be justified
testifying, “I’m the lost sheep personified
needing teacher’s patience, greatly magnified.”
Learner F, for missed requirement, declares candidly:
“Mine was done perfectly; indeed realistically...
... and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework surreally.”
Learner G, muses midst rationalization glow:
“'When thoughts cease to flow ~Where does ego go'”**
May, I please be forgiven as I ask for understanding-flow."
Well, as a learner myself, I admit with earnest confession
my human nature is no exemption
so my heart seeks the LORD*** for wisdom’s implementation.
*Proverbs 26:13 The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets.
**Unseeking Seeker
***Proverbs 2:6 For the LORD giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding.
February 4, 2021
Edited on May 14, 2022
Tristich in Rhyme form
3rd place, "Bubble of illusion" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 5/20/2022.
Alas oh how grave and horrendous misfortune...
Relapse written all over whole
fudge besmirched countenance
American as apple pie garden variety troll
tell tale evidence eats away
at me heart and soul
argh so much for new year's resolution
straight and true healthy eating goal.
Lofty ambition to attain once upon time
coveted, prized, and
treasured toothpick physique,
no not necessarily becoming
thin as anorexic pencil necked geek
scores of years ago,
when yours truly resembled
quiet as mouse phantasmagorical
disembodied prepubescent freak
surreally bobbing long Battle Creek.
Morphological body distortion bid me
to allow, enable, and provide suicidal
grimly reaped tally ho
with feebly uttered see yawl
back in the day circa approximately
my thirteenth circuit round the sun,
I sought to disappear into cellular vacuole
formerly carefree boy
his loose higglety-pigglety
hogtied psyche psychological,
(not in yeast wryly bred) did unroll
severely psychological afflicted son
taxed his mama and papa where
somber appalling death knell
deathly silent lugubriously reverberated
figurative emotional bell toll,
Matthew Scott starved yet hungered
for sustenance of body, mind and soul.
Pact nearly signed, sealed,
and delivered signaling demise
(mine) unwittingly inflicting horrific guise
kickstarting pinteresting repercussions no lies
lifetime developmental delay no surprize
even now this aging baby boomer tries
to shake off pervasive thought process unwise
fending off punishing
self destructive reflexive urge
after experiencing wages
of culinary sin where surge
impossible mission just desserts to purge
thus sink dentures into sweet treat
taste buds relishing joie de vivre emerge
(think chocolate fudge) flashes me memory
prior lovely skull and crossbones
nearly acknowledged funereal dirge.
PRETENSIONS
a fantasy
ego
self pleasing
sentimentality
symbolizing the
figurative
in
bejewelled
attire
in
distinctive
gesture
so allegorical
& memorable
floating
surreally
in primped
pefection
yet
pecularily
distorted
&
detached
but still
signalling
the flirtatious
in
meticulous
unreality
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Deep within the world so modern,
Lies a hidden road not trodden,
That states the obvious truth be told,
Printed in ink black and bold,
That lost in worlds of ecstasy,
Trapped in snares of misery,
That wars the rumors be told they sneered,
Now not alive a bray a’bird,
Gone are thoughts that thinketh straight,
And now to turn back it's O’so late,
Truth is gone, and truths be’come,
Lies run wild thru’ Urb and slum,
Prove me wrong this not happen,
But wrong they are yet shamelessly clappin’,
All so jolly good way they are,
From the Truth they stay afar,
Given in to the delusions be,
These strange worlds move so surreally,
That eats place a first a crown,
And Wannabe’s laze and fuss arroun’,
Talks about this and that and all that’s good,
Ney earn their money and cry for food,
When not given they stage a protest,
What they think is unjust!
But truth be told they sloth all day,
Sit around and laze away,
Their youths burnt dry, so willfully done,
When the brave reproaches them, they rant and away they run,
Sad to see, this is our reality,
Where all but’s none have time for thee,
Where life’s no respect and death appraise,
No wonder! They fit in with Artemis’ ways,
Tis’ are days of Noah’s time,
Filled with false hate and unwanted slime,
The hot is cold and the cold is hot,
They should be left to these ways to rot,
For no amount of reproach or preaching change they,
They want to remain that way,
So, let it be and move on in life,
Find a place to settle, build a home with your wife,
But when they come, O’Brave men of life,
To scandal your family and toss the knife,
Don’t debate them in anyway by words,
Take up your weapon and massacre they featherless birds,
Let them cry foul, whine and weep,
For they are into misery so deep, even the good that they do is evil so steep,
Let it be, let it be and protect your families,
From these so called ‘Justice Warriors of all the Sissies.’
What is well, when men of old just a teen,
Went to war for freedom’s freeing,
No scandal was found heard, no loose talk in the winds,
They wives waited for them, rather than sinned!
But if now one were off, to fight for justice cause,
In their absence does much spend, party’s all that splend.
Not all I say that way be done but are true, true indeed to none,
Tis’ a tragedy with my pen and ink I write and run.
AGONY is my new lover
and she never tires.
DISCIPLINE is my
new taskmaster.
through PAIN and
TORTURE I shall finally
know LIFE.
I'm adrift in
a BLACK sea.
TERROR swirls
beneath me in the
FORBIDDEN, black depths.
as IT swims by
it's chilled wake
sends shivers through
me and raises goose bumps
on my flesh.
IT can DEVOUR
me at anytime.
I've chosen not to care.
EVIL can find me,
possess me,
it's not my choice.
I am STRONG
and can tread water
for days.
Surreally, I am not AFRAID
as I turn my face up,
squinting
the yellow sun is HOPE
in a rust colored sky.
the wind is COMPASSION,
an unseen kindness that embraces me.
FAILURE is the black crow
wheeling in the sky above me.
HAPPINESS is the virga
on the horizon: rain drops
that EVAPORATE before settling
to the sea.
I'm shedding COMFORT
and contentment as a
serpent sheds it's old skin.
it is TOO LATE,
for I am born again
HARD.
It amazes me how a dream
Is contrived from reality;
Fine-tuned to a subconscious scheme
played out nightly, surreally.
Take any dream for example:
It most frequently manifest
Itself via random samples
Of recall that had been suppressed
Which the subconscious mind reveals
Through abstract sensations expressed
Involuntary and unreal-
Most forgettable more or less
Are these colored and black and white
Series that’s conjured every night.
UNDERSTATEMENT
language
confirms
the
familiar
even a weakness
angst
melodrama
wonder
the
significant
reciprocated
precisely
a
modern echo
momentarily
a
slight
foretaste
vibrant
elegant
twirling
surreally
&colourfully
rendered
an avatar
of
estrangement
in an
unmistakable
panoply
of
glowing
visages
eyeballing
sallow
isolation &
unsettling
existence
animated
swirling
fathoms
of
fantasy
irradiated
with
innocence
exuding
the
will-o’-the-wisp
influence
expressly
apparent
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
BASTION of TRADITION
the erstwhile
contemporary
surreally clustered
together
mellowed
to an extent
that
immortality
still appeals
driven by
an impulse
of
isolation
against still
prevailing
then
but
now forgotten
bourgeoisie
then
surely
antagonising
stunted
&
scandalous
outpost of
controversy
of
inverting imagery
errors in society
the motif
producing
a
furore
against
of moral
decay
&against
in mistrust
of in
authority
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Summer sunset streams- soon sundown springs-
so splendid, splashing softly, seizing skies.
Surrendering stale sapphire, shaping strings;
surreally setting scenes, soon stirring sighs.
So silently, smoked shadows structure, shape-
spur, sharpen, sunset silhouettes- so stark;
Streaked salmon, saffron, scarlet- showy scape
sets spatial sights supplying sundown spark.
Serenity surrounds- sun sinking slow;
striking sunset stuns, sharing scenic show.
I felt myself traveling rapidly in my own direction
Not north south east or west, an unnamed direction
Believing in my abilities and talent as I never had before
I felt there were invisible wings on my back
Propelling me forward,
Enthusiasm and strength saturated my soul as I moved
Confident and self-assured; the sun moved out of my way
The flowers and the grass cheered me on my journey
I was invincible, untethered, whole and surreally me.
A superb feeling of might and power overtook me.
I had shed all of the weeds and thorns of my past life.
There were no slices or chips out of my being.
I was queen of myself, with paranormal energy
Living my truth in a new way
Making my own path
Heading in a new untraveled direction.
The direction of me.