Posts Tagged ‘lovers’

“over the river”

over the river

and through the woods

straight into your heart

is where i’ll go

 

through the mountains

and over the seas

straight into your arms

is where i’ll flow

 

all the tears

that i have cried

all wash away

when i’m by your side

so hold me in

your loving arms

until we’re old

and dead

and gone

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/9/17

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“together”

she is waiting at your doorway
with all the colors in her hair
and all her bracelets tangled
taking steps
ever so slightly forward
dizzy in the rarified air
two little creatures bracing
unsteadied by the cobbles and stones
what wild nights await you
here in the lights and the snow
daydreaming like daisies
without petals
in the early spring glow
seeking out the smallest of ironies
tuned like a bow
drawn across the strings of your heart
in a swift, radiating glance
eyes like lenses of rapture
invested in a world without features
a cold and whisper-less expanse
known only to lovers
alone on their islands
dreaming in time that drifts like the sand
moving together like water
as tiny drops that glisten and burst
lost forever in the darkness
in the strangeness of this verse
and when you remember
how she saw you that night
on the steps
in the starlight
you will make her a promise
cool, solemn and sincere
that you shall always be together
in the depths of the far
for love’s weighted anchor
is buried deep in your breast
like a song surviving centuries
filled with words true and simple
and of limitless tone
a life lived together
whether in sweetness or bitter
will always be greater
than a life lived alone

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/25/13

“such strange things we reconcile”

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

“mornings”

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

“for lauren”

in the falling season
trees scatter their lost children about the ground
they form road-side memorials that dress the streets
there final days spent in shades of blood and turmeric
as winter takes its grip on land and shore
they frost and crumble like morning scones at your bedside
the seasons flow on like some western surveyor
and we feel the chill of northern lights upon us
together we sip pinot in the evening glow of muted lamps
a bundle of threadbare blankets stashed safely in the wardrobe
tales of old are spun like so much yarn on your grandmother’s lap
and together we come to part the sorrows
grey days seem a continuum
darkness falls early and slow slumber awaits
but we welcome her
our spring darling beauty
dressed in alpine meadow colors
and we venture to the sea for relief
the salt spray and southern breezes make us whole again
around the table gathering conversation grows
and leaves are born again to mothering oaks
we raise our glasses high
and scrape the splinters from our fresh broken chop sticks
this evening will bring dinner and talk of travels
summer awaits in all her glory
for we are her progeny
and she
our savior

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/26/12

“for katie”

there is a picture on the wall
and the beauty it contains dangles like a curl
it flows through the room like wine from a forgotten cask
invoking ageless emotions only found in the eyes of a lonesome puppy
years have come and years have gone since the day it took shape
like a pure sonnet or a dancer on stage we never tire of it
i have seen this before
on distant walls
in distant homes
that span the length and breadth of our country
a land full of children and toys
a land of letters and words
they connect the sorrow and the joy of hearts separated
the indestructible bonds that shine like white teeth in the afternoon sun
we are all here now
as we shall always be
we have stitched an everlasting tapestry of friends
and we frame them like captured butterflies in a dusty museum hall
but as always we come together for those certain occasions
creating new visions of our future
dancing to the music of laughter
and feasting on the essence of togetherness
always remember these days
spent on couches and spinning cars
these are the days to remember
and they will never die

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/25/12

“for linda”

memories flow like a swift torrent of water
chasing some unspoken promise
with the speed of a subterranean river
and the power of a million spinning prayer wheels
they radiate the sound of love across the heart-born expanse
they twist like baby dancers in the far recesses of your soul
and then…
you remember
father was the maker of memories
he taught you all the things that the maiden forbid
he was the iron cross when the storms came
and the giver of sweet kisses when all things felt wrong
now you rest and remember
life as it were
you sit by the leaf, by the axe, by the pile
warmed by the air of the wood by the fire
and father is still there…
somewhere?
he celebrates his creation for all eternity
he thinks of you…

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/25/12

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