Edward W. Cousins
Biography of Edward W. Cousins
Edward was born April 29,1970 raised in Tacoma Washington. currently resides in Charlotte NC. a loving father of two boys and one girl. A musician and poet who had begun writing poetry and short storys at a young age of ten.Just beginning to read poetry in public and pursuing publication to his collection. First off i would like to thank you for taking the time to read my work.I am very interested in gettin my poetry to the mass public and look forward to marketing and promoting my work with you and other mass public sources And will do so to the upmost of my ability.For poetry is my life, my dream and love.I believe i have a wide range style of writing.And eagerly pursue as much knowledge and creativity to all styles as i can.With just starting writing full time these past two years i have learned alot and continue to do so.I like to on one day write a dark poem with enormous imagery and little bit of horror.Then next write a heart felt passionate love poem.Then a poem of spring time feelings of joy.I try not to let any form of poetry style hold me back. everything i write is from true passion and real life and from the soul. Some of my inspirations are as follows.T.S.Elliot, Robert Frost, Edgar Allen Poe, Sara Teasdale and Elizabeth Barret-Browning.I tend to enjoy poetry and writes from the 1800`s and early to mid 1900`s...im also a bass player for black ritual.
Edward W. Cousins's Works:
life of dreams both lovely and wicked www.lulu.com
Edward W. Cousins Poems
I shouldn't have been in this world you created, in this place of decadence and annihilation... Is that all you got god? I`ve been through alot worse.
Charging The Hero
I accept the fact you may embrace my fire. It`s there blazing as well as blinding. My fire that burns all existing bodies around me. Besides it never seems to end.
I crashed into the wind and so i set sail once again... Lean up against me with all your body and skin.
Winds Of The Sahara
Winds of the Sahara My beautiful dream, ..
Summer bloomed a lovely june... Beneath the sky i sang so blue. I sat against the old oak tree.
She said, Atleast im smiling! Must be why the sun is shining, I replied. She stole my cigarette out of my hand. Took a long draw like the wind.
Love is the stone i stand upon, rock sliding along slippery wrong. Moving headfirst into the storm.
Without A Pen
12/26/2010 With a Pen
At Peace With The World
fell asleep on my couch last night. I awoke a dozens times thinking you were here. I heard your voice.
There is beauty in this beacon of the sun. It lingers along the wind, through the window. Casting no shadow upon my bed.
There is beauty in this beacon of the sun.
It lingers along the wind,
through the window.
Casting no shadow upon my bed.
Old crooked door and noisy hinges.
Still cold, morning dew till noon.
Drops a few on the front stone
below the cottonwood.