Posts Tagged ‘mornings’

“simple, scattered lines”

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

and across the clutter that has 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

such simple, scattered lines

 

then they will bring me back

to a moment, place and time

and I will think of winter

so beautiful, so cruel

so measured, so divine

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/6/18

Advertisements

“carved in whispers”

our doors lie open wounded

driven like the dust of papered worlds

a brilliantly tattered totem

so ornately carved in whispers

and on the tips of tongues

upon the tops of pillars

they are but simple prayers

flowing from our lips like vapor

such evidence as we have found

for it was written in the stars

and printed in the papers

it was pressed below our tables

in the hands of mystics and soothsayers

like prisons we possessed them

we trapped their sweetness between layers

and here alone we travel

to our backyard garden swings

the air of smoke so thick and full of dreams

with our hands we try to catch them

so we may discover what remains

but as we hold them in our lungs

they shall take our only breath

for they are faster and they savor

those simple songs that dance in shadow

like broken leaves along the ground

sweetly rustling in the evening

and when our mornings come

we expect to capture them once more

but forever we have lost them

and never again shall they be found

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 11/26/14

%d bloggers like this: