Posts Tagged ‘poets blog’

“tiny home”

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


“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

“little swallow”

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


“red ant fires”

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


“ode to a frontier”

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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