Gold

It’s the ghastly image of gold,

The lingering levity of passion sold…

Your soul! The passive frame

That, within, holds your shame,

Built of bitter, unbenevolent stewing,

The storm’s eternal brewing…

But gold! Gold keeps your eyes apart,

Gold may always hold your heart.

Aye, it is a dastardly demon within

Who paws at strings with a growing grin—

And causes the loathsome ache,

Just so he may laugh and see you wake.

That malignant fiend—with pride—beams!

As he casts himself within your dreams,

You have become his favorite toy—

Which he puppeteers with twisted joy.

It is a treasure trail of gold you follow—

It is gold that preens the pride you swallow.

Gold unearthed to forge the wedding band—

Gold in the ring, of he who holds that hand.

     DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com

I Held The Light

I held the light, in a kerosene lantern—

It slipped through my hand—flames crept upon me,

The walls unfurled before I thought to walk away.

But in a fabulous unravelment of fortuitous events,

I remained unscarred, to step out of the fray

I was bound within, and found myself starting off to sea.

From the island I was on—the sun lit my skin

And seared the sole palm shading me.

So I sought to construct a raft, to sail at last,

But the winds blew me astray, and I washed ashore

To a foreign land, where the desert was vast

And I prayed for a boreal forest, or at least a tree.

But somewhere along my endless plight,

I fell right through the grains of sand,

Down… Down… Down… Futility grasping

The nothingness all around me.

With a thud, I was grounded—gasping—

For I was back in the box I first began.

And in that room, sat a kerosene lamp—

A precarious surface which I held tight.

I keep it locked within an amorous embrace,

Fearful of the folly I would be met with

Should the flame—the single wisp—displace

In the darkness—on that day—I held the light,