27
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, amazement, coffee, dream, dreams, heart, love, picture, poem, poems, poet, poetic, poetry, poetry blog, poetry blogger, relationship, relationships, see, sight, silence, silent, unbroken, unbroken chain, vast, wind, wonder, wonderful, world. Leave a comment
i have seen her bathing
in a swell of mountain sweat
her curls singed by miles
the smell of oak on a fiery wind
and yet so soft does she remain
a sculptured form in cotton
a sugary whisp of air so gently stumbling
my eyes are widened with amazement
a dusting of cinnamon upon my coffee-stained lips
this powdered world from which i see
toes and eye lashes and all those wonderful things
a foot in leathered straps
over rocks and moss and oceans
big blue dreams are cascading
the streets are filled with stars
all of them are falling
wishing they were yours
but none have come to know you
the way you take your toast in the morning
on a chair inside my heart
and so there it is
on a perch so gently nestled
between my ribs and near my throat
a home that you have found
a smallness by the river
a distant trickling sound
but even should it grow silent
the colors still remain
those that paint the picture
of this vast, unbroken chain
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/27/18
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
20
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: artifacts, azure, birds, blog, blogger, blogging, born, circles, coffee, conversation, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, feet, flags, fountain, fruit, green, heart, home, kiss, land, light, lips, markets, moors, mud, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, silence, sky, soft, spice, spirit, steam, summer, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, world, write, writer, writing, yearning, yellow. Leave a comment
fleet of foot
on wide slanted lines
precious little artifacts
hidden in the moorish design
glistening azure tiles to the sky
white hot roof tops
and spice market flags
they shift and flap
high above the mud walls
and the summer fountain yards
beads turn over clutched hands
nimbly building prayers of glass
shattering spirited worlds
affecting far removed hearts
away in the fields of some distant land
and there, among the banyan trees
shade grows long with the day
turning and pressing the jam scented fruit
soon to be on its way
to coffee houses filled with steam
a taste between conversations
and the words they carry home
will fit like the scabbard blade
passing between lips
unknown they will digest
with a passing sleight of hand
a forehead kiss goodnight
the dreamers will have dreamed
they will awake
to mornings yellow light
hearing the sounds of silence
and the birds aloft in flight
crossing endless landscapes
around and round they go
always back to where they started
but they do not even know
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/20/12
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