Art In DisguiseArt is in my blood,
Its became like a flood, Turning up when least expected, Yet Somehow always connected, Shoving away others, Like their words are deflected, As I turn away another, So I can be protected, Almost unaffected, By the unsuspected. I create what I feel, For I try to draw whats real, Cause for once its the only way I'm not concealed, Even though I hide beneath this shield, I still hope oneday these spoken words, Shall be heard by the one that makes me feel, Like I could be a bird, Who can fight his way out of steel, And whom can see the sunrise, As he tries to arise, To newly found skies, In hopes to be surprised, As he sees utter demise, Searching for the soul-filling eyes, That have become very wise, As they hide behind their disguise, Meeting with the words good-bye. By: Edward Gaus The above poem is my first poem published.
The Dreams Of What We Can BeI have a dream,
That if you believe, You will achieve, We have a theme, That we hope you can perceive, As it is more than just a scream, So look into your mind, As you hope to receive, Cause we ain't got the time, For now you must see, All that we can be. Till this moment ends, Just let the words mend, Even a story without a start, Will never imply a heart, Each day I stand and wait, I just look onto fate, Just cause I think I'm great, Who knows what I'll create, I hope I am not lost, For I wish this can translate, And that all these words will not be tossed. By: Edward Gaus Fourth poem published.
|
Inscribed In WordsFrom Hallowed halls
My heart you'll hear, In the time of Fall Our lips draw near, Now the words I say Shall free your mind, For not only today A life we wind, Together as always The words that bind, For not in the way I see in mind. By: Edward Gaus Second poem published.
The days That CarryYou and I
side by side, Together we sway with the tide. Chain-less by worlds, entangled in spirits, The forces inscribed by the many molds that carry, for the pits that surround, are only the beginning, For Not the times wasted, Our days would seem hasted, Chased away by promise, As the last day dawns, a new sky. By: Edward Gaus Third poem published.
|