The Night the Rain Never Stopped

Amidst the arbitrary storm that swayed me so deeply

I could not focus my fondness properly, I sat against the gale

And pondered upon the pedantry that has passed and plagued

My heart thoroughly since the day I first heard her speak.

I felt a tear against my cheek—not of joy, not of sorrow

But of the passion I felt, the desire within me that awoke…

That night between the puddles and raindrops—between

The serenity of witnessing her smile and turbulence that

Arose from being soaked—I thought to myself, of the script

That has been wrote—of the stage we walk and words

Shuttered—of the birds that saunter, far from us but near enough

To hear their call—a cheerful applause of loving laudation.

The ache could not have been deeper, the chill within

Set so completely, it became a wedded part of me—

The ache could not have been deeper, the warmth within

My heart which was her creation—a masterpiece of communication. 

Restless Thoughts

On the first night, dawn would not be sparked,
For I was bound by my own turmoil
And drenched in sweat from an inner fight.
For my tongue was slit and my hands marked—
Eyes grew weary with a heavy heart,
And still there was no end in sight.

On the second night, I prayed—for bliss
With my head and pillow entangling
In the way that lovers do—to be caught
In an embrace—to feel my blanket’s kiss.
But my ragged dream was foregone
To a mind that would not cease its thought.

By the third night I was a walking ghost,
And as I paced the room back and forth—
Long past the afterglow of a crystal ball—
Long past hope of finding rest—most
The apparitions that haunted me
Followed, as we stepped through the halls.

On the fourth night I sold my faith
To elixirs promised to give relief—
But still I could not relight
The ease of finding peace—the wraith
Of extraneous desire would not cease—
So I left my home in a desperate flight

On the fifth night I conversed in jumbles
With the phantoms that sat with me—
We spoke of tales we write and aspire
To come to life—their mumbles
Seemed to comfort me but even they
Grew weary long before my retire.

By the sixth night my eyes were shadows,
Cheeks sunken and gaze misaligned—
I remained awake, bound to distress
And cursed aspirations that follow.
I slunk about from the window—sure—
In sleep, I would not find success.

DannYetmanwww.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

The Night the Sun Never Left

Past the salt and pepper shaker and nearer

Than I ever thought you would be—

My gaze falters in your light, the disbelief

Than I’m left with—when you’re a ghost

In my mind, and I walk the halls alone.

My gaze fails me in your light—

The aura of joy and compassion which

Reaches across the table reminds me of all

That is right—you remind me of the ephemeral

Nature of our lives—the delicate breathes

And the partings that we will surely face.

Across from me resides the very definition

Of complete beauty, the stigma of where dreams

And reality entangle—and slow dance gently

To a song we all wish we wrote.

Near me resides the reason my heart

Continues to beat—a delicate smile,

Held briefly, is a reminder of why I wake.

      DannYetman     

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

The Other Side

From the other side I watch through a window I’m forced to stare,

Mouth agape I feel as though I am riddled in despair—tonight,

The words never leave me, happiness is a beast that roams free

And I am caged with my eyes held open, to the best of days—

The yesterdays—that will always be incomplete.

The dreams that once were—the dreams that were once

Buried deep—reappear at the worst of times; my dreams

Surface when I think I’ve found the moments I’ve

Been searching for since I was old enough to speak.

From the other side the world is grey, the sun never rises

As the clouds stay plastered in their lifelong homes—

From this side I am tortured with the optimism and

Innate pessimism that battle deep within me—the flickers

Of hope which are so delicate, they disappear likes a

Candle’s light—oh—how we speak silently, the words

That I always thought were right but never uttered—

From the other side I pace the floor unable to think,

Tearing at my hair and starting at an open window,

Waiting for the answer to appear to me on the fragile

Wings of a broken bird—Cruel fate with a twisted grin,

Cruel fate which must know ever malcontent wish

And tests me as such, midst the tears and shame.

The lust and fire that is systemic from vanity

Forces me to stare through an open window, 

Wishing I had the strength to shut out the light.

     Dannyetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com