The Birth of Surrealism
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Description:
The Birth of Surrealism
~ Creatively I died inside a butterfly’s wing Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… Elevation Planted deep in a spiders imagination Twisted, converted Underneath a pyramid Midriff monsoon Against the red noon of the Moon’s Lunar tunes Nightmares growing from daydreams Like weeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Broken seeds The eyes of the Owl see As wisdom he reads Turn green with greed No longer wise as pride Glides and rides Across the deceit of his landslide Crashing like a crystal avalanche Crushing lives and habitats See one choice can lead back to the beginning Of the first inning of a sliver lining That has become dull Losing its shine and luster Like a haunted hall In a old mansion cobwebbed with fluster Skeletons and ghost threaded in walls Shredded inside papery calls Peeling from the owners fall I’ve died inside the butterfly’s wing The wing carved on a wedding ring Its circle symbolizes my cycle A tilted infinity inside the curve of clarity Of my fall That became a papery call While threaded in a skeleton wall Cobwebbed with fluster Like a haunted hall That has lost its shine and luster Which became dull Like the first inning of the silver lining This choice has led back to the beginning Crushing lives and habitats Like a crystal avalanche Crashing across the deceit of this landslide Which glides and rides No longer wise as pride Turns green with greed As wisdom he reads The eyes of the Owl see Broken seeds Reflecting the soul as darkness gleams Like nightmare and weeds Growing from daydreams Lunar tunes of the Moon Glowing against red noon midriff monsoon Underneath a pyramid Twisted, converted Planted deep in a spiders imagination Elevation Buried in the womb of a bird’s song Sing… For I’ve creatively died inside the ink of a butterfly’s wing Dripping from an alien’s pen-well Melting like clear gel Faded and blurred Secretly grew in between each verb Hid myself in sentences Like parables in genesis With glee… I impregnated the meaning inside me Then birthed surrealism In a chaotic schism Between the fifth and second chord Of a poetic discord ~ |
Submitted on 2015-08-25 00:08:34 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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I really like your style, especially the flow of imagery, although I don't know if this rhyme pattern goes well with the subject matter. I mean it's a good poem and I wouldn't change a word from it but I would have done it differently. I would have left longer portions in prose as to express the vast expanses of surrealist paintings and only rounded the corners of the central imagery with rhyming. But I'm too concerned with the visual aspects of my poems anyway, so maybe that's just me...| | Posted on 2016-10-19 00:00:00 | by Paradox | [ Reply to This ] | If I could have his as a tattoo , I would | | Posted on 2016-02-11 00:00:00 | by Chelebel | [ Reply to This ] | |
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