poems365dotcom Just another WordPress.com site

songs form like shadows in the afternoon
they are born of warm black vinyl revolutions
mapping out the injured soul beneath that cotton dress
where nimble feet and painted toes wrestle in the spring grass
alone and happy
twisting in the backyard bloom
her eyes tuned in harmony
a sea of wind torn petals in the air
children racing on their bikes next door
the blacktop gravel gently vibrating
while sheets form billowing clouds
enveloping her body in a silky dust
she sings from coffee stained lips
but in the silence no one can hear
or perhaps i am wrong
there are birds drawing near
they are nestled on fence posts
and in the trees just beyond
gathered for this moment
drawn from above
they are captive like an audience
in this theatre filled with sound
astonished by the beauty of this thing on the ground
and they wonder in their way
as birds often do
but soon disappear
wings striking towards heaven
like so many notes in the sky
and she wonders for a moment
as women often do
will they come back tomorrow
if her song remains the same
or will they travel to another
not knowing how she longs
to sing with the birds
alone on her lawn

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/22/13

the fate of all the worlds is resting
here in my bright orange cup
a small litter of tea leaf destinies
waiting for the scribes and soothsayers of old
they are born of rags
and of richly ornate carvings
for now they speak in tongues
and in rhymes of riddled reason
pointing toward these maps so golden
born of starry-eyed designers
a ripple in the waves so transient
they crest and plummet boldy
like so many divers in the sky

and the coffee grounds
they are simply there for the reading
a novel penned in flecks of darkness
like the twisted tails of trailing vines
they roll and tumble
and scheme like secrets
tossed from lips
born in the scattering dust

they take of you
and in the telling
they awake in you the hours
that long to grow and bound
forming in your mind
like the gold in your teeth
and the silver in your hair

you are breathing just so now
atop the blistering mountain
as you rush to wake the others
the gentle souls that slumber
pondering streaks of sunshine
that run molten through the air
and like your moccasin feet found warming
they hide your clutching toes
bounding from your precipice
to the lonely world below

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/12/13

we swing in the red dust of long broken miles
our eyelashes tingling in the static
and just below the rattle and hum
blue ocean waves lap the shoreline
as we pass through this colored day
there are houses on the hill
where calico cats gently step and slide
where the zest of lemons sweeten the air
they make of me a memory-worn vessel
drowsily sipping life
here in a state-less nation
wound up like a fire branding scorn
i must step now from my chariot
and knock upon these doors
to find the hidden secrets
for they are always, sometimes trapped
alone in their high and dusty attics
in their mother’s heirloom safe
or perhaps they are just resting
buried in the shallows
merely inches beneath the floor

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/3/13

all the pads are swaddled in lilies
and the creatures dart and dive
while couples lay resting
slowly breathing
simple forms in the afternoon sun
and all the painters are painting
their wrists are dancing
swiftly creating
a picture of swollen time
all the while the rivers are bending
they flow and burn
lifting smooth artifacts
and placing them among the rounded pebbles

but just beyond the trees
wheels are racing
and mothers are washing
they cast away both dirt and sin
quickly arranging the day
complex variations steeped in summer sweat

these are the days of splendor
when happiness becomes motion
transcending both air and sound
filling the wind with soulful musings
like a million monarch butterflies
pushing the sails of eternity
to grasp the unknown shoreline
where hours become days
and seconds are lost forever

i ask you now
wherever will you be
when next the painter unfurls
his canvas gleaming white
asleep in bed at home
or perhaps just maybe
if the stars align this night
you will be dancing underneath them
in a forest filled with light

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/2/13

oh wise one
come to me from your spirited mountain top
from where the fire of currency has turned to ash
from where all is lost in a frozen hush
carry yourself to my lonely hills
here among the prickly pear and the nightshades
take your breaths of water from my sacred pools
bathe in the dust of this valley
for this is where we all shall live
here among the spires of lime and stone
sharpened to a blade of grass
yet so thoughtful and sweet
covered in blankets of grandeur
sworn to a life of secrecy

oh radiant one
rush down upon me
fill me with your warm embrace
take me to where the sun also rises
to where the daffodils plunder and grow
away from these faltering seconds
away from these scattering winds
for your voice is the answering echo
cast back to me from afar
it warms me like laughter and kisses
and fills me with dreams that glow

oh loving one
if you cannot conceive of such things
then perhaps i am mistaken
for here in the arms of my slumber
i live in the realm of your magic
and sometimes though i am taken
by thoughts so far beyond delight
i know that i must awaken
to the sound of dawn’s early light

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/28/13

hyper-ballads are forming
on warm and dangerous moorings
in the halls of trains
and in the provinces
an old patchwork of quilted lines
scattered and breathless
a future in the morning
tattered and restless
i wonder about you
and in the wondering,
i falter
for you are no follower
there are no doors upon which you knock
no bells for the sounding
you are the mistress of a thousand rich hours
spinning long in a web
kissing the wind and the honey
in your cloudless sky
on your motionless world
solemn tomes are conspiring
in cold flowers that grow and flourish
like so many notes
they sing and say
over wicked hills
to the far and to the away
of strong iron and soft orange clay
i sit and watch your swaying
in the breeze of my shadow
on a dark eye-liner night
when so cat like you whisper
your warm breath on my shoulders
it seems like forever…
the two of us alone
and together
in the end there is only this
the laughing, the lying
the emptiness

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/11/13