6
Dec
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: afghan, afternoon, air, apples, blog, blogger, blogging, born, cars, cold, dance, dancer, dancing, darkness, delight, doors, doorways, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, dust, embrace, emptiness, face, fire, follow, footsteps, foreign, forgotten, fragrant, fraying, golden, grass, great, green, happy, heirloom, homes, lay, light, lovers, memory, metal, moisture, one, orange, outdoors, outside, painting, peacful. siren, pictures, plain, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, reconcile, rest, ring, rust, safey, shadows, smell, smoke, soft, soldiers, song, swoon, syrian, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, thresholds, tickles, time, touch, walking, warm, wash, wind, wonder, wondering, write, writer, writing, yarn, yearning, zest. Leave a comment
the wind tickles my face
like the fraying strands of yarn
from an old afghan heirloom
distant songs wash over me
they still ring in my ears
like a peaceful muted siren
and the smell of orange zest
lingers fragrant and happy
foot soldiers come out of the light
covered in syrian dust
such strange things we reconcile
as we lay resting
on couches in the afternoon’s golden swoon
they follow
like shadows on the grass
as we pass from our doorways
to the great emptiness outdoors
walking and wondering
with footsteps in time
the cold smell of moisture in the air
and the green rust of sculpted metal
painting pictures in our canvassed memory
further now in cars
as the smells turn from warm apples to smoke
the safety of our homes long forgotten
wheels bouncing along the concrete plain
they bring us through doors
through differing thresholds
and in those rooms of foreign delight
where fire lifts the darkness
we seek warm embrace
to make sense of it all
in the arms of our lovers
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/6/12
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30
Nov
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, breathing, brothers, calm, candy, cheeks, cry, dance, dancer, dancing, darkness, distance, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, embers, ether, face, frosty, green, light, mist, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, sadness, smoke, soft, sparkling, tears, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, toes, touch, trees, universe, whisper, wishes, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
toes in the ether
born in the distance
of the breathing deeper
feathers falling through the embers burning
resting in the pillowed leaves
dreams like smoke carried through the trees
here amongst the sadness of the turning
where brothers cry amidst the darkness
alone
far from this side of the yearning
tears caressing cheeks so warmly
arms reaching through the dusty starlight
to clutch the mighty hands that hold you tight
sugary-eyed sparkling mists
coupled in the candy apple wishes
knees bent low
face down to brush the frosty ground
calm now in demeanor
you whisper across the universe
and waiting for the echo
it returns to you in lifetimes
in a world
different from the one that you called home
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 11/30/12
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3
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, baby, backyard, birds, bitter, blacktop, broken, canopy, darkness, day, days, devour, dreaming, dusk, dusty, face, feel, feeling, feet, fingers, fool, gaze, golden, grass, great, hammock, hiding, history, hot, hours, ice, land, light, lonely, loud, lungs, lyrics, memories, mind, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, praise, profound, rain, raindrops, remember, rhymes, rhythms, simmering, singing, sleep, smile, snow, sound, speaking, spirit, steam, stocking, strange, summer, swinging, tickle, touch, truth, waking, weight, window. 2 comments
i am moved by the weight of sound
and the scent of steaming raindrops
as they course over the bitter blacktop
lungs filled with hot summer air
my mind simmering like the day
and i touch the broken grass
it tickles my stocking feet
while i gaze into the canopy
birds are speaking loudly
they want me to hear
for their lyrics are profound
where will they be
when comes the snow and ice
in some great distant land
singing praises there
i am stirred by the shifting light of dusk
it makes of me a fool
hiding truth amidst the darkness
what strange sounds come now
in backyards
outside the dusty window panes
and i touch the stained glass
its texture feels my fingers
tracing out all the history
that has passed through in colored light
so make for me this bed
for in sleep i shall remember
what comes in days and hours
forming rhymes and rhythms
swinging in the dreaming hammock
and waking to devour
i am lifted by this spirit
so lonely in the darkness
i have fallen from my perch
feeling momentary sadness
but when i see her face
her golden baby smile
i take her out to see the birds
perhaps she can translate for awhile
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/3/12
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