I want to humbly introduce a new genre of poetry called Mystical Realism. What is mystical realism in a nutshell? In mystical realism, images are romanticized as tropes and then embellished with transcendental meaning. There are two elements, the signifier and the signified. The signifier is the romantic image transmitted through the tropes and the signified is the spiritual idea.

I would like to use some examples to explain it.

The stream bubbled with spiritual music. Here the stream is transmitted through the image of music and the idea signified is spiritual.

The lovers conveyed their romance by embracing each other like psalms. Here the romance is the image and the psalms the idea.

The storm cried in grievance. Here the imagery is wept and the idea is afflicted. Slices the sky like music; she listens to their feathers in odes of joy.

Eternity flies like saints in white: revealing time in mystical flight. The saints here are white storks. The metaphysical element inherent in this verse is eternity.

Stream of beauty running through: gurgling salvation all the way. Salvation is an idea inherent in religions. The gurgling is the tangible physical visual element.

Oscillating pebbles that shine karmic odes, blue pilgrimage meanders of life and death. Pebbles are something tangible and life and birth is an idea of ​​reincarnation in Hindu philosophy.

The waves frolicked with joy. Frolicked is visual imagery and joy is the idea.

A lover hides in the deep feathers of beauty. Passion is the enigma of the body. Adultery I have sung to you like a lyrical poem. A howling dog is a deadly hell. Poems crescendo in the sky. Psyche you are an ornament, the beauty of a poet; there you stay perched like a poem in such a sweet flower. Psyche you marvel, you are the heart of desire. Lovers are passionate flowers. I drenched her fountains and she moaned in ecstasy. Lucky you’re Cinderella’s shoes to me. The ornament of poetry is the heart of desire. Feelings are a rainbow of imagination. We trembled like rivers in frenzy. Passion, you are the echoes of the heart’s desire. Swimming in a lucky river. I played with the sources of imagination. A heartbeat is similar to the ocean. It was a Medusa of selfishness. My shepherd’s crook is a feather. The lamp of a lamb that was slain on Calvary was Jesus the son of God. The sky turned into an angry warrior of pink light. The drama of life is different from that of the stage.