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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2
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: ages, ancient, angel, ball, beauty, bedside, city, curls, daisy, darkness, dawn, distant, doorstep, dreams, elegance, empty, european, filters, flowers, form, gone, hands, heart, her, lace, lifetime, light, lips, longing, love, loving, mirror, movement, needle, nothing, ocean, pillow, place, poem, poems, poet, poetry, pressure, purring, return, shadow, sight, soft, song, speak, spring, squares, stillness, strike, string, sweet, sweetness, taste, tonight, towers, universi, unworthy, void, want, warm, waterfalls, wind, words, wound, yearning, yellow. 2 comments
“beauty”
what is it about beauty?
the way she curls up so tightly ‘round your heart
all the pressure of the mighty universe
wound fist-tight
like a ball of string
as of yet unmet by needle
untouched by soft hands
she is an angel purring at your doorstep
and all the yards of european lace
all the flowers in spring
her equal they are not
for she is the taste of sweetness
on loving lips so warm
she brings about the yearning
in your dreams before the dawn
casting out the darkness
no mirror to unworthy forms
her movement strikes at elegance
words beyond compare
yellow daisy waterfalls
taking a distant second place
she is the wind and song
the gentle ocean spray
the beaming light of towers
in the ancient city squares
oh how you thought you knew her
she is gone now from your sight
she filters through the ages
filling darkness with her light
and if you want her back
you must speak these words tonight
come back to me sweet beauty
for i am nothing when you’re gone
you have left an empty void
and in the stillness i await
to see the casting of your shadow
on my pillow bedside warm
and even should i die
before your form it does return
i will long for you in lifetimes
not just this one
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/2/12
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