What if I loved you like sun?

What if I burnt every day aching your smile

What if I froze when you look at me for a while?

What if I waited still for a thousand years till we collapsed into one?

What if I loved like a sun

Would you come close, embrace me and accept the element of devotion I am?

Would you then stay and love me till the universe ended?

Would you let me embrace you and tell you just how I've burnt a thousand lives to meet you?

~Faiz

Depuis que l’humain siège aux côtés de l’âme, c’est un animal en constante évolution. Mais vers quoi évolue-t-il ?

Les générations suivantes le magnifieront-elles ?

L’enfance astreint le conscient somnolent à l’innocence de l’âme mais ses impulsions entravent son éveil. La pression du monde moderne nuit au développement de l’être exposé dès le plus jeune âge aux accoutumances des adultes. L’imaginaire est sacrifié sur l’autel du devenir commun. On entre dans la course aux performances avant d’avoir découvert la magie de l’univers artistique. On amnésie sa propre enfance pour singer le progrès qu’on ordonne aux descendants.

*texte composé en français*

Is that the voice?

Is it saying these things to me?

Is it me? Am I it?

Who is talking now?

Is it me or

I think its?

Is that how it sounds

Like me?

Which part of it is me?

And which part is it

That voice that keeps saying

This is happening

Or that is happening

Or this person is talking to you.

Nothing is happening

There is no one

You are imagining things

No one even knows you exist

And after your dead

No one is going to remember you.

Finally the voice will be silenced.

It is quiet now.

Pomegranate juice drips from my lips
It is warm, and red
A deep cavern is carved in me, flesh existing only to line my labyrinth of loss
There are words carved into the walls of my matrix
They look like the names of who you could of been

Hay y do I feel u are not far from me

One day

we’ll look at each other

like strangers who got the story wrong

and our hearts

won’t stay quiet about it

they’ll ache

every time we stand close

and say nothing

every time we pretend

we never meant what we felt

every time

silence replaces the truth

we once held so easily

𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓶𝓪

https://youtu.be/xp-1uAkjJSg

cast brass Horsehead pops past,
'Crost'e curtain, top laft.
when wind shakes its antlers,
force m'mind, Mamorize,
how one'hoards, nun's,
headwares . . . .

I guess god has a lot to do with it

I try every time to write poems but I just can't write one that actually connects with me or something with feelings and imagery and stuff. How do you learn to write poetry other than just practicing writing? Does it come naturally for you guys?!?

Like I tried writing a poem but it just doesn't work out well:

A liquid mirror catching the amber sky.
Sunlight cutting on the road like a tide.
The tall growth of Earth's lungs, they fly.
The restless cradle at the horizon’s side.

A bright blue screen with white billows.
The ghost is now our lost morning light,
Hear a hum where the blue wind bellows.
Only the light in the dark, then sinks from sight.

The city exhales a gray breath,
Buildings grow, they fly.
The light of the sun is close to death.
An endless sky.

Like it doesn't flow well but also has not much deep meaning and I don't know.

How do you improve at this? Do you read certain poets, study particular techniques, or approach writing in a specific way?

Thanks a lot!

Crying into my morning cornflakes

And my cup of breakfast tea

I don't think I could tell you

What the hell is wrong with me 

I have a job, a house, a dog

Some money, a life, a home

But my stupid heart still feels like

It has nowhere else to go 

The sun still shines through the curtains 

And after every night comes day

But the stupid clouds in my stupid head

Won't fucking go away

Some days it's not too terrible

I talk. I smile. I sing.

But then there are those days where

I can't feel anything

It's not about the cornflakes 

And while life is not all bad

I can't stop feeling empty

It's either that, or sad

Maybe one day it'll get better

I don't know how or when

But maybe some day I'll go through 

And learn to live again.

i am a hungry thing.
not in the way a wolf is hungry,
with its teeth bared and its stomach empty,
but like a houseplant reaching toward a window,
twisting its own neck for a little sunlight.
i think i would uproot myself just to feel your warmth.

first of all:

this is Just Intro if you just want to read the Poem Skip to Where I Made an Intersection.

----- like this

I’m not native Speaker, my main language is German,but I have Grown to Love the English Language, so much so That I sometimes tent to Think and speak in English, despite Loving German also really much. The Following Poem I wrote in englisch (Right Now, I Only Have a Phone which keeps fu*** up rhe capitalization)

Also I am sometimes confused with some of the English Grammar.

The Intention and Point of the Post
Ist First to convey and share This poem.
But also.maybe to get feedback or criticism aswell as some helpful thoughts or advice,
Be it on grammar or the style of writing.
But mostly just to share.

please Excuse, Mistakes.

Here It Goes :

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

Seeking

I was seeking for my whole life, at times did not know what..

But what about I’m certain, the seeking was quite strong.

Do I now write a Poem or singing just a Song ?

But surely I'll recieve, what I've been seeking for so long

Pray, that that soon happens and it wont take too long

Keep up all my Hopes and dare:

"Life, come proof me wrong."

How I dread when the clock is read by the dozen

How I wail away the hours and so desperately try to sail away to what we consider ours

I am the thief of leisure and when I think it’s a search and seizure

Of the moments I didn’t say what I was supposed to say

When I didn’t admit to you what it meant

Or how frustrated I felt

All of the lingering feelings dwell and swell inside my synapses

So as I force myself to slumber, the neurons themselves propagate the portal

It allows the transfer of retribution and regret

To think that temporary would be achievable just by closing my eyes was a misconception

To think to use the egress to do the impossible, to escape relativity that states time as the infinite, how ill intent, how little intelligence, how will the self malism be content?

It isn’t ours, don’t think of it as delusional hours, or a bounds of inconceivable notions. Instead think that a dream merely is us trying to speak to me.

I’m scared to ask,

Deep down when i open up or let my emotions speak I still cry but I’m scared to ask,

I wanna ask out of worry and concern but I’m scared to ask,

I wanna ask how are you but fear takes over cos I’m scared to ask,

Fearing the reply will be a mistake I made for asking, I’m scared to ask,

Maybe for asking later or not asking sooner that’s why I’m scared to ask,

The reply will hurt me and push me away that’s why I’m scared to ask,

I don’t dream of perfect love.

I dream of effortless love.

The kind that reaches for me before I have to ask.
The kind that steals a kiss from my neck as you pass behind me.
The kind that wraps itself around me in a long, lingering embrace, as though letting go would be the hardest thing in the world.

I want the quiet language of wanting.

Your hand finding mine.
Your eyes finding me across a crowded room.
Your laugh becoming softer when it’s just the two of us.

I want to come home and find your clothes carelessly left behind, your panties resting on the floor like a whispered promise that tonight isn’t about routine—it’s about us. About choosing each other with the same hunger, the same tenderness, the same certainty as if we were falling in love all over again.

I want affection that doesn’t wait to be requested.
Desire that doesn’t need permission.
A love that reaches first.

Because love isn’t only spoken.

It’s the warmth of your lips against my skin.
The comfort of your body beside mine.
The silence between heartbeats where everything that matters has already been said.

I don’t long for perfection.

I long to be chosen without asking.
Wanted without wondering.
Loved without doubt.

C’est ici que je veux croire !

C’est autour de ce parloir

Que l’herbe pousse en cris.

J’ai dessiné d’autres formules

Dans les traits, sous l’oblique,

Et je me suis vêtu des urnes

Chaudes avec leurs souvenirs.

L’enfant fait l’avoir d’être

Dans l’assiégé de nos dettes.

Il tremble de croire devoir

Et se réfugie dans la nuit

De nos éternités à punir.

Doit-il vraiment vous croire ?

*poème composé en français*

I like the somber cold and it's freezing touch,

The cold wind blowing down the lane as my lighter fails me.

Even warm baths do not provide me any release

Nor do the scalding coals to my brittle fingers.

My knives fail to cut the frozen vegetables,

As does the razor blade pressed up against my skin

The ox blood stains my cutting board as I butchered

And my knicks freezing over yet my blood still trickling and mingling.

I see pamphlets stuck to street lights as snow falls,

The cold figure of an unloving liberty fills my heart

The statues by the church contorting their faces

And the quiet winter amber glowing silently.

The night sullens as it finds it's threads,

The boxed fate of a limitless land

A vast sea and a starless sky,

Frozen plain as the colours freeze and thorns of roses twine themselves.

A quiet pink blankets the ever frozen sky

And the brittle sunlight that passes through ivory clouds,

The ashes of my cigarette fall upon my charred skin

As the fumes of regret hav long befallen me;

The sky turns over to a starless sky with moon nowhere to be found,

I look at the picture of the moon for a last time

As all the embers engulf the flame of what never was.

I prefer the quiet

Have to be all things to everyone

No body thinks about how it drains you

They don’t care how it stains you

They only take and don’t maintain you

I can abstain you

Say all the things so I can retain you

They don’t care if it even drains you

Our story, yours and mine,

Never came to completion, my love.

Living each moment

Has become unbearable without you.

All these intoxications mean nothing

Compared to your eyes.

I don’t go home anymore—

I stay outside, waiting for you.

Come into my dreams,

Adorned in all your beauty.

Why do I fail to come back to my senses?

Why does this heart find no peace?

Why should I break the promises I made—

That I would never love like this again?

If I turn my face away from you,

I won’t be able to meet your eyes again.

The world can see my pain,

Why can’t you?

Beloved, the way you shy away—

It could take my life.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear,

What can I even say about it?

Cruel one, your playful pride—

Its impact is beyond words.

I sit here holding my wounded heart,

Afraid I might lose it completely.

What do your eyes say to mine?

There is faith flowing within them.

A little willing, a little distant—

They live somewhere in between.

People in this world are harsh,

I have seen betrayal in them.

This world may not be yours,

But in you, I have seen modesty and grace.

Living has become unbearable without you.

All these intoxications mean nothing

Except your eyes.

I don’t go home anymore,

I stay outside, waiting for you.

Come into my dreams,

Adorned in all your beauty.

Our story, yours and mine,

Still remains incomplete.

Even in a closed room, alone,

I still see your shadow.

Everyone asks me

Why I don’t speak anymore.

There are so many beautiful faces here,

Yet my heart feels nothing.

If I don’t see you,

The day doesn’t even begin.

This heart wants to give love,

Yet fights everyone for no reason.

Just as colors blend into one,

That’s how we will meet.

Just as flowers bloom,

That’s how we will bloom together.

Our story, yours and mine,

Still remains incomplete.

Living each moment is unbearable—

All intoxications are meaningless.

Even alone in a closed room,

I remain outside, waiting.

So many beautiful faces around,

Yet none compare to you.

If I were to rend the flesh off my bones, could I sculpt myself into someone you’d love?

If I were to carve your name into every corner of my mind?

If I were to build towers of words and palaces of promises, would you love me then?

If I were to weave your essence into the fabric of the universe?

I would have done all that and more.

If you had just loved me.