22
Feb
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, angels, beach, beaches, bells, blog, blogger, blogging, born, breath, breathe, breathing, cape, cove, dance, dancer, dancing, dark, division, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, dust, envy, field, fields, forgotten, frost, grass, green, halls, light, linger, lingering, longing, mingle, numbers, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pollen, resting, shelter, soft, theater, theaters, theatre, theatres, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, tomb, touch, voice, voices, wall, walls, white, wind, winter, wood, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
pollen lingers in the air
like the dust of angels
resting on a field of forgotten numbers
born of long division remainders
in a tomb of winter bells
no longer sounding
we are far from frosted white beaches
far from the capes and coves that shelter
here is where the voices mingle
in the windless halls and old theatres
just outside the walls of braided grass
green with envy
alone in the darkest wood
and breathing…
just breathing
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 2/22/13
Like this:
Like Loading...
16
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: alone, always, apart, art, beds, blog, borders, born, boundaries, breathless, cold, conventions, dancing, dark, emptiness, envy, eyes, fields, forever, green, hands, hearts, homes, laugh, laughing, light, lingering, love, lying, narrow, oceans, one, order, outside, poem, poems, poetry, poets, right, sadness, sight, soft, stolen, touch, touching, warm, watching, whispers, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
what is the art of sadness?
of cold hearts
on cold beds
dark oceans apart
alone in the lingering
in the dancing shafts of light
crossing borders and boundaries
stolen from our sight
think of these short whispers
of warm hands touching
outside the yearning
without conventions
in fields far crossed
green with envy
like soft homes
born of the narrows
ordered and right
and the laughing
the lying
the breathlessness
forever
always
holding on to this
forever
it’s always
the emptiness
and when her eyes were watching me
the sadness
for you are the only
the only
the one
Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/16/12
Like this:
Like Loading...
poems365dotcom 