Posts Tagged ‘children’
6
Jan
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, cereal, children, coffee, girls, kids, memories, mornings, nostalgia, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poetry blogger, poetry site, poetry website, poetry writer, poetry writing, red balloons, seasons, soul, the beatles, time, wife, winter, wives, yellow submarine. Leave a comment
it’s a yellow submarine morning
colder than the eyes of some forbidden danger
a spark of light by the curtains glow
red balloons across the sky
they have come to take me on
no more black birds singing in the darkest night
we have come to another day in the life
thinking back, i remember just now
our fires burning such a deepest cavern in the snow
our conversations like journeys flown
i hear now what percolates
in yonder distant rooms
filled with wives and children
with cereal and spoons
and to a desk with pen and ink
to strike the sounds of thought
to ponder and to think
i become the soul of time
crafting a digital word-spun rhyme
and as i look upon these lines
across the clutter, grown like vines
i think of drawers and shelves and pockets
placing such secrets softly
on a page of light and time
and perhaps one year from now
when the cold and white does shine
i will remember why i wrote these
simple, scattered lines
they will bring me back
to a moment, a place, a time
and I will think of winter
so beautiful, so cruel
so measured, so divine
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/6/18
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10
Dec
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: ancient, antique, antiques, battle, battles, children, daughter, daughters, death, dream, dreams, embrace, fabric, families, family, father, fathers, flag, flags, form, forms, heart, hearts, husband, husbands, love poem, love poems, mother, mothers, poem, poem about love, poem blog, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poetry writer, poetry writing, poets, poets blog, possession, possessions, son, sons, soul, souls, stranger, strangers, the small things, tiny home, tiny homes, tiny house, tiny houses, travel, travelers, urban sprawl, war, warmth, wife, wives. Leave a comment
we were born of the antique and ancient forms
our stories woven from the fabric of our dyed and twisted yarns
like the wreckage of so many voyages lost and long
those travelers floating over poles
our souls on the battlefields mourned
we are assembled from the glass of mirrors that have passed
from the love of our mothers and our fathers dead and gone
in the comfort of our rituals we are dressed in softly stolen silks
and we think upon those travelers
those many bridges they have crossed
we wonder how their flags are planted
where the mountains meet the sky
and now we live as strangers
our families just so splintered
we are driven and we are torn
the swollen weight of our possessions
the magnificent size of our earthly homes
but what we need is tiny
it fits inside our hearts
a formation of the soul
it cannot be found in store fronts
or in those luminous shopping malls
it lives just near the fire
and in your child’s warm embrace
sometimes driving madly
but always in the end
our only true possession
perhaps a wife or son or daughter
it may just be a lover or a dream that never ends
and perhaps…
even just a friend
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/10/14
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3
Mar
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: acre, acres, air, alive, alone, angel, angels, bliss, boats, bright, cake, cars, carve, cheeks, child, children, clouds, confections, craft, crafted, creature, creatures, crown, dawn, distance, distant, farms, food, gentle, glass, glistening, gold, grass, grow, heart, hearts, hills, home, homes, horizon, land, laugh, laughter, leaving, live, might, morning, nectar, orange, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pollen, restless, rust, rusting, search, searching, shadows, sing, singing, sleep, sleeping, song, speak, spirit, spirits, static, steam, stone, summer, sun, sway, sweat, sweet, sweetness, swell, swim, swimming, swoon, vision, visions, wand, wands, warmth, water, weep, wood. Leave a comment
cars on the water
swimming in a glass
half-full of morning laughter
and the tire-irons rusting
like restless creatures
tall in the grass and singing
like wands in the woodshop carving
and crowns that lay alone sleeping
they wait for spirits and the leaving
while the boats on land are steaming
there they search for the horizon bleeding
orange and gold and glistening
we are the shadows that grow in that distance
and the mighty clouds that weep
we are the static in the air
and the hearts that swell and swoon
we sweat and sway
our cheeks they gently brush
for we are the pollen and the nectar
our sweet confections crafted
of angels, food and cake
and when we speak of visions
in the straining hour of dawn
we think upon the hillside
looking down over the hills and farms
and we know of the children waking
and the bliss of beds and homes
we think then of the warming
when comes the sun this morning?
a disc alive and bright
we move swiftly through the acres
through the channels carved in stone
wishing only for this moment
one more summer here alone…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/3/13
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19
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, children, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, highway, humming, kissing, light, morning, one, outside, petals, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, surprise, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, whimsical, whimsy, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
sweet chocolate wind
look what you scatter about my feet
warm butter imprints,
resting…
and little moths kissing
stickers for children
for scratching and sniffing
feeling whimsical for a day
or a month,
or a year…
hands on my face
softer now
than the white oven baked
listening closely
for the humming and hissing
red hot radiator swishes
on the highway
in the evening
you move me with your green eyes burning
the next morning
after you’ve gone
your imprint still pressed on my pillow
like nectar on fallen petals
red polished nails that are broken
the phone that doesn’t ring
still waiting…
for the sound that will come
like giant footsteps on hills
just out of reach from the danger
for the tribesmen are swarming
it should come as no surprise
this honeycombed warning
it bit you on the neck
while in the fields you were roaming
so know her not
for what she really is
keep her tucked in the diary veil
for if she escapes
no one will ever believe
that you knew her so well
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/19/12
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26
Apr
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, child, children, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, light, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
hail to the chief
for iron thrones were made
and the hats of tradition have been hung
placed on the heads of jesters
with fear and loathing
they call upon the races of men
to scale the icy walls of this earth
to find a lofty perch
for colored banners yet wave
and when the rockets glare no longer red
we may all fade to black
but this is not another song of war
but only homage to the fantasies of greatness
there among the crumbling aqueducts they feasted
on women and wine
and spoke the tales victory
even as the choking vines tightened
even as the great coin faces found homely pockets to fill
the written fire of words found walls to collect
dissidents to rouse
and people to clutch the roots of change
why does this vicious cycle spin
like wheels on a brickyard sunday
why do the learned not see
for even a veil so thin should cast a weary gaze
so will we find ourselves amongst the rubble
knowing not of the coming storm
or will we reach to stay the pillars that weaken
will we bring home the banners of glory
to find them resting with each and every soul
together lifted to reasonable aspirations
find yourself pondering the choice i give you
and let the weight of such things be upon your mind
for in the darkening hour
the strong light of reason may yet find the cracks
and when you lift foot to pavement
seeking out your day’s reform
think not of gold and silver
but of the children starving
for yes they live
and yes they die
not so very far from the door of your home
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/26/12
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26
Jan
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: age, ageless, air, alone, angel, angels, author, babies, baby, bird, birds, birth, blaze, blazing, blog, blogger, blogging, born, brother, child, children, circle, circles, circular, cloud, clouds, cold, crazy, creation, cry, crying, dad, dance, dancing, dark, darkness, daughter, day, desert, deserts, distance, distant, dreams, dust, edge, emotion, emotions, essence, eternity, evening, father, flew, flight, flown, flying, force, forest, forget, forgotten, garden, gardens, green, guilt, happiness, happy, hard, heart, ice, innocence, innocent, inside, iron, journey, journeying, kiss, kissing, laughing, laughter, light, lonely, lonesome, loss, lost, love, lovers, loving, luscious, memories, memory, mist, misty, mom, moon, morning, mother, mountain, mountains, night, ocean, oceans, one, outside, picture, pictures, planets, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pray, prayer, praying, promise, promises, rain, raining, rains, remember, remembering, remembrance, rhythm, rhythms, river, rivers, sad, sadness, sand, sands, sea, seas, shadows, sharp, shine, silence, silent, singing, sister, skies, sky, smile, smiles, smiling, soft, son, song, soul, soulmate, souls, space, star, stars, storm, storming, storms, streams, sun, surprise, surprises, surprising, sweet, sweetness, swift, tear, tears, think, thinking, though, thought, thoughts, torrent, touch, toys, travel, traveling, tremble, trembling, universal, universe, vine, vines, warm, water, wild, wilderness, wind, wine, winery, wonder, wondering, wonders, words, wordsmith, write, writing, yearning, young, youth. 1 comment
in the falling season
trees scatter their lost children about the ground
they form road-side memorials that dress the streets
there final days spent in shades of blood and turmeric
as winter takes its grip on land and shore
they frost and crumble like morning scones at your bedside
the seasons flow on like some western surveyor
and we feel the chill of northern lights upon us
together we sip pinot in the evening glow of muted lamps
a bundle of threadbare blankets stashed safely in the wardrobe
tales of old are spun like so much yarn on your grandmother’s lap
and together we come to part the sorrows
grey days seem a continuum
darkness falls early and slow slumber awaits
but we welcome her
our spring darling beauty
dressed in alpine meadow colors
and we venture to the sea for relief
the salt spray and southern breezes make us whole again
around the table gathering conversation grows
and leaves are born again to mothering oaks
we raise our glasses high
and scrape the splinters from our fresh broken chop sticks
this evening will bring dinner and talk of travels
summer awaits in all her glory
for we are her progeny
and she
our savior
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/26/12
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25
Jan
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: age, ageless, air, alone, angel, angels, author, babies, baby, bird, birds, birth, blaze, blazing, blog, blogger, blogging, born, brother, child, children, circle, circles, circular, cloud, clouds, cold, crazy, creation, cry, crying, dad, dance, dancing, dark, darkness, daughter, day, desert, deserts, distance, distant, dreams, dust, edge, emotion, emotions, essence, eternity, evening, father, flew, flight, flown, flying, force, forest, forget, forgotten, garden, gardens, green, guilt, happiness, happy, hard, heart, ice, innocence, innocent, inside, iron, journey, journeying, kiss, kissing, laughing, laughter, light, lonely, lonesome, loss, lost, love, lovers, loving, luscious, memories, memory, mist, misty, mom, moon, morning, mother, mountain, mountains, night, ocean, oceans, one, outside, picture, pictures, planets, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pray, prayer, praying, promise, promises, rain, raining, rains, remember, remembering, remembrance, rhythm, rhythms, river, rivers, sad, sadness, sand, sands, sea, seas, shadows, sharp, shine, silence, silent, singing, sister, skies, sky, smile, smiles, smiling, soft, son, song, soul, soulmate, souls, space, star, stars, storm, storming, storms, streams, sun, surprise, surprises, surprising, sweet, sweetness, swift, tear, tears, think, thinking, though, thought, thoughts, torrent, touch, toys, travel, traveling, tremble, trembling, universal, universe, vine, vines, warm, water, wild, wilderness, wind, wine, winery, wonder, wondering, wonders, words, wordsmith, write, writing, yearning, young, youth. Leave a comment
there is a picture on the wall
and the beauty it contains dangles like a curl
it flows through the room like wine from a forgotten cask
invoking ageless emotions only found in the eyes of a lonesome puppy
years have come and years have gone since the day it took shape
like a pure sonnet or a dancer on stage we never tire of it
i have seen this before
on distant walls
in distant homes
that span the length and breadth of our country
a land full of children and toys
a land of letters and words
they connect the sorrow and the joy of hearts separated
the indestructible bonds that shine like white teeth in the afternoon sun
we are all here now
as we shall always be
we have stitched an everlasting tapestry of friends
and we frame them like captured butterflies in a dusty museum hall
but as always we come together for those certain occasions
creating new visions of our future
dancing to the music of laughter
and feasting on the essence of togetherness
always remember these days
spent on couches and spinning cars
these are the days to remember
and they will never die
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/25/12
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23
Dec
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, beauty, cathedral, children, dancing, death, flesh, grace, home, man, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, song, soul, sweet, vision, woman, writer, writing, youth. 1 comment
in the swift turn of air
a solemn song dissipates
it turns the shattered leaves
and sends a high chorus
through the great cathedrals of man.
but they are not of stone,
they are built of the soft flesh.
they resonate from the soulful tomb
carving and twisting a vision of beauty,
and in the orange-sweet breath of sound
they live and they die
but never, never are they gone!
passing the broken homes
and scraping the high towers
here in this lofty space…
slowly they dwindle,
slowly they dance by the sweet ear’s of children
the vibrant echo fluttering faster
in the ageless heart of youth.
the dream grows on now!
it tears me from my doldrums
and lifts me into space
forever to remember
this momentary grace
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/23/11 ( inspired by today but written for the past)
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