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
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2
May
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: beauty, blog, counting sheep, fireflies, girls, grass, laughter, lights, moon, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poetry writer, poets, secrets, sheep, sky, sleep, spring, stars, summer, the moon, whispers, writer, writing poems, writing poetry. 1 comment
fireflies swim in their oceans of sky
and warm dandelion breaths cast a cottony snow
their thin waxy stems like sweet summer girls
they dance in my yard and all through the world
here in the draft of some beautiful scent
oh how i wonder
where will they go?
their footsteps in summer
violet toes in the grass
and the trickles of laughter
how they drift like a stream
through my ears like windows open
now un-shuttered to reveal
what those whispering lips
and those cool shaded eyes
once did so guardedly conceal
so now i must choose
shall it be the stars or the lights?
i am breathing the wind
and in the evening while i sleep
in my hammock just woven
i will swing from those branches
the ones just out of reach
there on the moon…
by the fence…
counting sheep
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 5/2/14
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2
Jul
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: acacia, beginning, blog, blogger, blogging, born, breakfast, celestial, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, dust, enlightenment, fairies, feet, garden, ghosts, girls, gleaming, gliitering, green, heart, hearth, homes, light, lonely, lovers, morning, night, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, scones, sea, soft, summer, sunlight, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, trains, window, wishes, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
cold trains
viewed from the breakfast window
they slide by
fluttering like old nitrate film
burning gardens in their passing
stirring up dust
trapped in a gleaming shaft of sunlight
it is what we see
only the edge of enlightenment
only the lonely fragments of truth
captured like so many wishes
in a bottle
set out to sea
and the lines of clothing
set out to dry
they are ghosts in the arbor
sugar plum fairies in the wood
and summer girls
in their summer dresses
taking strolls on the glittering pavement
while the acacia smiles
and black eyed susan
she gives a knowing wink
back now
to the eyes of morning
sifting through the newsprint
flour spinning off the rolling pin
pressing out scones in the old clay oven
a character belting out lines from the summer stage
soon blankets will lay like carpet
suffocating the manicured lawn
and we will come from our homes
and from our cool ash hearths
for the season so invites
the atmosphere filled with dashing attire
bowties and stocking feet abound
they settle in
for the long night is coming
and with the strumming
the celestial heart dips slowly out of sight
calming the little ones
it marks the ending of the day
for when this chapter closes
with lovers pulling tight
we will seek a new beginning
in the morning sunday light
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/2/12
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