10
Dec
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: ancient, antique, antiques, battle, battles, children, daughter, daughters, death, dream, dreams, embrace, fabric, families, family, father, fathers, flag, flags, form, forms, heart, hearts, husband, husbands, love poem, love poems, mother, mothers, poem, poem about love, poem blog, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poetry writer, poetry writing, poets, poets blog, possession, possessions, son, sons, soul, souls, stranger, strangers, the small things, tiny home, tiny homes, tiny house, tiny houses, travel, travelers, urban sprawl, war, warmth, wife, wives. Leave a comment
we were born of the antique and ancient forms
our stories woven from the fabric of our dyed and twisted yarns
like the wreckage of so many voyages lost and long
those travelers floating over poles
our souls on the battlefields mourned
we are assembled from the glass of mirrors that have passed
from the love of our mothers and our fathers dead and gone
in the comfort of our rituals we are dressed in softly stolen silks
and we think upon those travelers
those many bridges they have crossed
we wonder how their flags are planted
where the mountains meet the sky
and now we live as strangers
our families just so splintered
we are driven and we are torn
the swollen weight of our possessions
the magnificent size of our earthly homes
but what we need is tiny
it fits inside our hearts
a formation of the soul
it cannot be found in store fronts
or in those luminous shopping malls
it lives just near the fire
and in your child’s warm embrace
sometimes driving madly
but always in the end
our only true possession
perhaps a wife or son or daughter
it may just be a lover or a dream that never ends
and perhaps…
even just a friend
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/10/14
26
Nov
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: carvings, discovery, dreams, evenings, fall, leaves, lost, mornings, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poetry writer, poets, poets blog, prayer, prayers, prisons, stars, totem, totems, whispers, writer, writers blog, writing, writing poetry. Leave a comment
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
24
Jul
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: amazement, birds, eyes, fire, flight, glitter, gold, land, memories, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poets, poets blog, sky, thoughts, troubled, troubles, writer, writers blog, writing. Leave a comment
little swallow
on your lofty perch
what do you see up there so high
twittering away on the evening sky
is it the stars so bathed in light
or the people
with their hopes and dreams and fears
i wonder what you find amazing
would it be the glitter and the gold
or just the simple cobblestones
and the way they define our paths
where do you go in our darkest hours
when we need your whispered song
oh how it rings in troubled silence
like prayers so layered in the dust
alone on the windswept plain
the wagon spinning wheels
they turn me round and over
ever to your thoughts
and if just
for one simple, quiet moment
i could be your iris wide
i would take in all your memories
with folded wings along my side
striking out the distance
to quench the fires of my strife
and be a simple creature
warmed by swollen thermals in the night
i would love you for this honor
to look out from your eyes
and we would be friends as such forever
one of land and one of sky
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/24/14
25
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: childhood, dreams, georgia, home, ocean, poem, poem blog, poems, poems blog, poet, poet blog, poetry, poetry blog, poets, poets blog, sea, sky, sun, vacation, write, writer, writers blog, writing. Leave a comment
red ant fires smolder in the georgia dust
and the droning sound of pollinators
it trickles through the air
like summer balloons on an evening sky
the old orchards have fallen to decay
the fruit is bitter and flush with the taste of sin
there are gravestones that stretch in glimmering white
so plainly beautiful and bursting with emotion
it all unfolds like a dreamscape
childhood vacations etched in memory
and all along the coast
among the grass and swaying palms
the sand is built of castles
we are kings upon our thrones
but the sodden wheels of time
they have drenched our dreaming wheels
for now we talk when once we tumbled
and pray when once we slept
we have been cast out from our ocean
our toes beneath the foam
and we wonder why this happened
how we came to know this home
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/25/14
9
Mar
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, frontier ruckus, living room tour, louisville, music, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poetry blog, poets, poets blog, writer, writing. Leave a comment
black rivers flow
under white skies that shimmer and glow
the ground under foot
so soft from the melt of snow
and the pilgrims that come
are hidden in a place of shadows
with their wide brimmed hats
and their buckles of brass
but that now seems
as it were centuries ago
for here we are just now
bound to the present as it were
in small living rooms
where the sound of music grows
among a mix of young strangers
they are all dressed just right
and the sound of the banjo
it trickles and screams
while it lives among voices
and sleepy beer-soaked dreams
oh how it slips
through windows untidy
living on the air
in the wind
and driven so slightly
carried on the smiles of such faces
with their eyes open widely
as they step past the doorways
alone and together
into the night that breathes wildly
and know this for surely
they will come once again
for such songs are a bribery
filling our souls to the edge
and as we peer over
from this porch-wide lofty perch
it’s those songs we’ll remember
we will take them to our homes
and when those frontiers full of sadness
they ache our weary bones
we will sing out from our windows
to those ears in distant homes
for when we have such music
we shall never be alone
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/9/14
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