Posts Tagged ‘red’

“on the trail of dreams”

all the dust

like little dream makers

softly falling on your skin

you breathe them in

a lung full of memories

yearning in low sweeping passes

touched by the splendor

what arduous journeys now press upon your soul

you search the empty trail

hearing foot falls in the distance glow

the scent of the gathering grows

content now in what you sense

your small feet catching pollen

stripped from the crushed meadow flowers

for this way have you come

never to return the waking hours

never to become the ponderous one

falling from the scorn of golden ages

appearing in doorways

hanging on the arms of innocence

you that travel on sensuous roads

waiting for the tasting of something new

something beyond compare

like sweet lemons plucked from a constellation

stinging red lips

a burning ocean of wind

driven by the soundless fire

making your way

down through the woods

full of strange creatures glancing

you speak to them

you join them

and now you are dancing

so let them partake

of your dreams small and dusty

for when the dawn comes

all things will scatter

and you must regain the trail

and the searching

for this is what matters!


Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/17/12


“the gorge”

come from the scored out hills of hazard
on a windy black flake day
scenes of dilapidated sheds occurring
like a roadside history of what never was
twisted scores of metal and rust
and mountain rhyming accents
all in a day’s journey called work
a “best of” playlist sifting from within
oh how familiar comes the sense of song
and driving to return
a requiem for the soul
the smell of days remembered
and trips to these once known hills
the feel of sandstone in my boots
and the taste of sweat upon my tongue
climbing the old indian stairway
and views from a cloud splitter
a warm piece of bread and cheese
a delicacy in those days
the burning hand of a 100 foot rope
and the quick drop into a bed of cooling rhododendron
the smell of fire in the evening
when the wine and whiskey starts to flow
out there…
away from the repetitive crackle of television
only voices and stories to keep the mind
in the river red gorge
i once did dream
the folly of youth
and found myself bounding
on the arches of stone
crossing the bridge natural
and always…
always wanting to return

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/1/12

%d bloggers like this: