Posts Tagged ‘golden’
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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17
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: age, ages, arduous, arms, become, beyond, blog, breathe, breathing, burn, burning, come, compare, constellations, content, creature, creatures, crushed, dance, dancing, dawn, distance, distant, door, doors, doorways, down, dream, dreams, drive, driven, driving, dust, dusty, emptry, fall, falling, feet, fire, flowers, full, gather, gathering, glance, glancing, glow, golden, grow, hang, hanging, hear, hearing, hours, innocence, join, journey, journeys, lemon, lemons, lips, little, low, lungs, making, meadow, memories, memory, never, new, ocean, one, plucked, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poets, pollen, ponder, ponderous, red, regain, return, road, roads, scatter, scent, scorn, search, searching, sense, sensual, sensuous, skin, small, smell, softly, soul, sound, soundless, speak, splendor, sting, strange, stripped, sweeping, sweet, taste, tasting, things, time, touch, trail, trails, travel, wait, waiting, waking, way, wind, woods, wr, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
all the dust
like little dream makers
softly falling on your skin
you breathe them in
a lung full of memories
yearning in low sweeping passes
touched by the splendor
what arduous journeys now press upon your soul
you search the empty trail
hearing foot falls in the distance glow
the scent of the gathering grows
content now in what you sense
your small feet catching pollen
stripped from the crushed meadow flowers
for this way have you come
never to return the waking hours
never to become the ponderous one
falling from the scorn of golden ages
appearing in doorways
hanging on the arms of innocence
you that travel on sensuous roads
waiting for the tasting of something new
something beyond compare
like sweet lemons plucked from a constellation
stinging red lips
a burning ocean of wind
driven by the soundless fire
making your way
down through the woods
full of strange creatures glancing
you speak to them
you join them
and now you are dancing
so let them partake
of your dreams small and dusty
for when the dawn comes
all things will scatter
and you must regain the trail
and the searching
for this is what matters!
Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/17/12
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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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