Posts Tagged ‘coffee’

“a chair inside my heart”

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

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“simple, scattered lines”

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

“circles”

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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