G.R. Gaus

(April 11 1950 / St. Louis)

Perfection


Ever since I can long remember,
Trying to make everything right,
Now my life, reached September,
Long struggle, turns into a fight.

Facing the truth of good enough,
Can’t compete with anything more,
Giving in and calling my bluff,
No anticipation of what’s in store.

Perhaps it’s all inside of us,
Born with the gift from beginning,
Relearning how to coalesce,
As natural voice, takes to singing.

I’ve never met that perfect one,
Why should I think I could be?
In the end, will life feel undone?
Or will death simply set me free?

Submitted: Monday, July 01, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 25, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

We all want it, as soon as we learn it exists; only in our minds…..

Comments about this poem (Perfection by G.R. Gaus )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A Broken Mirror, Naveed Khalid
  2. BY Design, Terrance Tracy
  3. The Man of War and Flowers, Daniel Skentelbery
  4. Honest Love, Ronald Chapman
  5. Homage to Sarah Geronimo 'The Pop Star P.., Ronald Chapman
  6. False Prophets, Dexsta Ray
  7. scenic scene, lee fones
  8. Hold On, Ronald Chapman
  9. Very simple life, hasmukh amathalal
  10. SeeAn (Name Poem), Ronald Chapman

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]