The Cloak

I am cloaked within a despair so great,

The grief may not be alleviated

By the remedies I have sought before—

Distraction cannot be deviated

Sufficiently to live in reverie.  

I have made mistakes so utterly dire

Most of my life has been lived in malaise

While my heart has become withered by storms.

Perhaps the cure for dysphonia lays

In disregard to the faults of being.

I must forgive my imperfect ways

To find love, and trade hate for elation—

Weakness must be accepted and endorsed.

Love is not born from depreciation,

But openness and vulnerability.

       DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

Curiously Confuddled

I have been afflicted with an ailment,

That I envision as irremediable.

For it seems, no matter how fiercely

I fight against the feeling—

No matter how genuinely I struggle,

My heart remains seized.

And as I lie awake, with my curfew long

Surpassed—I anxiously await for

Morning to occur, in case our paths

Are destined to cross. I become

Curiously confuddled as I muse upon

The idea of hearing your voice,

Or witnessing your warming smile

One more time. I deem my desire

A dream from which I wish

To never wake, for I become lost

In the brevity that seems to always

Be flirting with the fringes of my

Perception… A yearning perfectly mingling

With images I can scarcely contain—

Pictures of holding you near, which exist 

Only within the confines of my mind.

I often become obsessive in ordering

The words that I feel will truly unveil

The passion that keep me vexed…

But it seems that I repeatedly fail

In capturing the sentiment I wish to pass. 

      DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Cease

Between the desire to love and be loved,

There is a trap baited with monstrous feelings.

It starts with a radiating ache, deep within.

And leads me astray at the most nondescript

Of moments—it is a warning to pocket pride

And with heavy breath, edge my ego aside…

It is the syllables that pass from your lips

That I yearn for, when awake or at rest—

For it seems, I could dream a thousand dreams

And never find a smile as entirely encapsulating

As the one you wear with ease...

My courage must be akin to a frightful child’s—

Because I wish to hide behind metaphors

And other poetic devices that remain unnamed.

The passion is fixed, and dredged across my chest

To perfectly print the pining with physical ink—

A tattoo to display how fully I am vexed.

But I cannot forget, or delay the dreary image

That has twisted my hand and tilted the

Basis of every decision I have ever hoped to make.

My head spins and I feel silly—I wish to escape

The corridors that bind my thoughts,

And leave me feeling incomplete. 

      Dannyetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Curious Feeling

It is a curious feeling, a feathered

Falling that is—for a lack of words—

Damned to be dreary, and ironically bold.

But it is the most desirable of reasons,

To dive into madness and become a fool.

A compassionate wish that waits

For no man, and always seems…

A little incomplete. But perhaps, it is just I,

Who ponders upon the preconceived

Notion that such a feeling, such being,

Should be sought… For I believe,

It should be avoided as avidly as can be.

Surely—such a dream is the sweetest

Plague, that paints itself in a lullaby-like

Light that tricks those with the weakest

Hearts—those who are easiest, most likely

To be led astray—the gentle and the giddy,

The bashful and the beautiful.

It is the most unlikely combination,

Of overwhelming—complete—wanting and

The deepest depression I’ve ever felt.

It is happiness and hopelessness,

Tragedy and romance—the consequence

Of a lifetime of restless nights

And regret, that I never learned to dance.

     DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com

Can't

Somewhere hearts are light, and people laugh
Both day and night—champagne to celebrate—
The closing chapter in the book of fate.
That place is not here, for the quest has just begun,
Amongst the sorrow and angst—the stress—
We found relief… But I can’t, I can’t
I can’t tell you of the distance that’s come to pass.
The truth is swallowed, as we live for tomorrow—
Always one more day in our eyes—and maybe
Someday our gazes will intertwine, eye to eye…
But I can’t, I can’t, I’m not finished yet.
I can’t give up tomorrow, the next breath,
Which may be the finale to everything I’ve
Been working towards…
I can’t live for the beauty of the night
For my head must remain bowed
Beneath a candle’s light for a moment longer.
Somewhere the sounds of music tangos
With the soft laughter of deserving ears.
Oh, ere the end of our escapades,
The adventures that we have shared together,
We could share a moment, share a breath…
But I can’t, I can’t take the champagne
Down from the shelf—tomorrow we live
To die again, to die apart.

Catch My Death

I took your hand, you took my breath

From my lungs, to the hand of death.

Slipping through the shadows without a sound,

Sipping the truthful elixir you found

Would blunt the edge off your lost desire—

Dull the ache and extinguish the fire.

Night comes soon enough, fetch the light—

This is all you are are—all you were was not right.

So I'll learn to let my bottom lip quiver,

When you sit next to me down by the river

We found together in the opulent glade;

I can't remember how long we stayed.

My eyes grow so very weary so I plead

For you to grab the reins and lead

Me softly towards a restful sleep,

And wait patiently while I weep.

For I am not the man I wanted to be,

With age he seems to evade me

To the point I forget to take a breath,

Surely bound to catch my death.

     DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

Convergence

The chapters of our life have unfurled,

And they have brought us here—

This is the story you were meant to live.

Distance fades like the years gone by,

Goodbyes don’t exist in this world—

Our dreams and fantasy will keep us alive.

Hope will be our only motivation,

As we live quiet nights alone.

No longer will our hearts sink and twist,

We mustn’t think such things

For we know what’s best.

     DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetryblogspot.con

Certainly We Will Never Meet

I searched every street, closer to death than you;
Alone, you were the allusion to my obsession.
As I searched, you were the passion in my eyes;
I wandered lost and alone on a bitter street.
A graveyard to my right, your eyes to the left,
Below me bodies rested, above me you sat.
You watched me from the sixth floor,
looking at me, you saw an awful sight.
The epitome of evil dancing in the streets,
You made sure our eyes were not to meet.

Crows Fly Above Me

In this world the crows never  fly gently,
they are carried by the winds that take them.
They try to fly to you, in hopes of pristine beauty
but instead they come to rest with me.
Ice falls from their beautiful wings; they look to you,
they watch you turn away.  Can't you see their broken wings?
I want those birds to kill me, pick me apart bone by bone;
crows will take my sight and I'll see what I've become.
I have never seen an animal cry, like those birds;
they roost broken-hearted, dorment in their only quest.
I want them to desire me, like they desire you.
The winds are too strong; they'll never want me,
their hearts belong to you and so they plainly speak.
Their black tounges curl as they try to fly to you;
one by one they fall upon me; they fall into a pristine wasteland.
They fall beside me and they don't even know that I'm here.

          DannYetman

http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/