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
2
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: ark, brides, burning, califi, cars, cities, cool, daugther, days, deep, delight, dim, dreams, evenings, eys, fabric, feelings, flame, flight, fog, forever, heart, ideas, kisses, laughter, leaving, love, marshamallow, memories, misty, moments, mother, mountains, night, poem, poet, poetry, river, sadness, secret, share, sister, sound, star, summer, sweet, tears, time, together, trails, travel, vineyard, whispers, wind. 1 comment
california calls me
like a hot summer winded flame
burning in the nearing draw
what a host of cool mounting feelings
and sweet warm memories
there in the misty mountains
on the afternoon of trails
winding through kaleidoscope hills
with little green whispers tickling my ear
small fast cars
and dreamy smoke filled canyons
mothers sisters daughters
lovely brides
in marshmallow white dresses
hot dusty vineyards burning
in a storm of dry white-air kisses
laughter and tears
and long drives from the city
a mind full of ideas
dreams breathing
sorrowful eyes sweating
all these things come and go
they have been
and will forever be
a fabric woven deep
in the heart of circumstance
and when the wheels touch down
and when the fog of flight grows dim
we will emerge from this ark of travel
to embrace the ones we love
with cheeks and kisses
hearts and flutters
a week to spend
made of days and evenings
wondering with delight
never wanting to know of leaving
nor of sadness
nor of night
for we have come from far flung places
and known these ways before
they are locked up in secret spaces
like a river flowing sound
and as we dive to the depths of wonder
with laughter at our side
once more we will be together
under stars that throb and bind
with nothing left but forever
these sweet simple moments alive
oh how we share each other
in these moments of passing time
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/2/12
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