Posts Tagged ‘morning’

when comes summer?

cars on the water

swimming in a glass

half-full of morning laughter

and the tire-irons rusting

like restless creatures

tall in the grass and singing

like wands in the woodshop carving

and crowns that lay alone sleeping

they wait for spirits and the leaving

while the boats on land are steaming

there they search for the horizon bleeding

orange and gold and glistening

we are the shadows that grow in that distance

and the mighty clouds that weep

we are the static in the air

and the hearts that swell and swoon

we sweat and sway

our cheeks they gently brush

for we are the pollen and the nectar

our sweet confections crafted

of angels, food and cake

and when we speak of visions

in the straining hour of dawn

we think upon the hillside

looking down over the hills and farms

and we know of the children waking

and the bliss of beds and homes

we think then of the warming

when comes the sun this morning?

a disc alive and bright

we move swiftly through the acres

through the channels carved in stone

wishing only for this moment

one more summer here alone…

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/3/13

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“the quiver”

words are scattering through a prism

forming colors in the fall air

they bound from lip to ear

cascading down to form glistening pools

soon to be frosted over

trapped and waiting for release

couples are strolling arm in arm

creating patterns in the waning day

they step from house and home

forming lines of chaotic display

soon to be dusty and forgotten

saddened by the coming storm

why come the thoughts of night

intruding with sheer delight

over folds and fires

gleaming in the backyard distant

how come the tears that stream

driven down cheekbones curving

over eyes and lashes

dry now in the salty burn

these little questions run

like deer in the morning meadows

they hide among the splintering grass

alone in the middling heart

tearing at the fabric of civilization

buried deep in the mounding soul

and sometimes comes a woman

a vision sharp as sight

with a voice that sounds of angels

when they cry alone at night

they sing and shine like starlight

bolting arrows with quivering might

and when they reach their target

a piercing so divine

we find that we are no longer strangers

simply born of different times

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 9/19/12

“the dreaming sea”

swimming in the dreaming pool

at the end of the dimming world

fireflies are whirring in the droning distance

sugar clouds are rushing overhead

here?

in the thinning grey…

clocks move like motionless time

they are the coming fall

women are driving on maps of gold

here in the sleeping shadows

one deep layer beneath another

falling through the hourglass way

on the sand of yellow beaches

near the castles of the moon

there in the slumbering bay

you are breathing now slowly

in the grip of this evening’s foray

there will be lips

and kisses

and millions of days

drifting faster, then slowly

well on your way

but when comes morning?

nearing like starlight

warming little faces that flee

there will be no more swimming

no more wondering

there is nothing more i can say

for you are alone now

set a drifting…

there?

in the dreaming sea

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/22/12

“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

“whimsy”

sweet chocolate wind

look what you scatter about my feet

warm butter imprints,

resting…

and little moths kissing

stickers for children

for scratching and sniffing

 

feeling whimsical for a day

or a month,

or a year…

 

hands on my face

softer now

than the white oven baked

listening closely

for the humming and hissing

red hot radiator swishes

on the highway

in the evening

 

you move me with your green eyes burning

the next morning

after you’ve gone

your imprint still pressed on my pillow

like nectar on fallen petals

 

red polished nails that are broken

the phone that doesn’t ring

still waiting…

for the sound that will come

like giant footsteps on hills

just out of reach from the danger

for the tribesmen are swarming

 

it should come as no surprise

this honeycombed warning

it bit you on the neck

while in the fields you were roaming

 

so know her not

for what she really is

keep her tucked in the diary veil

for if she escapes

no one will ever believe

that you knew her so well

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/19/12

“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

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