13
Mar
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: all, alone, always, carve, carved, change, creature, creatures, day, dream, ears, end, fever, fingers, fireflies, firefly, flowers, forever, future, gentle, glitter, glittering, harp, hold, impulse, impulses, kaleidoscope, little, memories, memory, millions, never, page, pages, petals, pine, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, rain, rest, secret, secrets, see, sky, smoke, sound, sounds, spiral, spring, static, string, summer, sweet, take, the end, tickle, toes, winter, wood, words, write, writer, writing, yawn. Leave a comment
a kaleidoscope of winter petals
glittering in the sky
dashing gently all about
in the grasp of this sideways driving rain
but the pines are simply resting
always… never changing
fires burn in the not so distant future
like a wood-smoke fever dream
sounds spiral down your ears
like fingers that tickle a harp string
little static impulses begin to take hold
the children of the trees ripen in the loamy ground
just below the flight of future summer fireflies
while sweet little creatures arch and yawn
a million smallish toes that dip into the day
these are the words of spring
the notes to sing and say
for they are carved upon the face of secret pages
they stand alone for all to see
and when comes the end
and then another
all that will matter
is what was pressed into your memory
beneath, behind
and in between…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/13/13
2
Aug
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: ark, brides, burning, califi, cars, cities, cool, daugther, days, deep, delight, dim, dreams, evenings, eys, fabric, feelings, flame, flight, fog, forever, heart, ideas, kisses, laughter, leaving, love, marshamallow, memories, misty, moments, mother, mountains, night, poem, poet, poetry, river, sadness, secret, share, sister, sound, star, summer, sweet, tears, time, together, trails, travel, vineyard, whispers, wind. 1 comment
california calls me
like a hot summer winded flame
burning in the nearing draw
what a host of cool mounting feelings
and sweet warm memories
there in the misty mountains
on the afternoon of trails
winding through kaleidoscope hills
with little green whispers tickling my ear
small fast cars
and dreamy smoke filled canyons
mothers sisters daughters
lovely brides
in marshmallow white dresses
hot dusty vineyards burning
in a storm of dry white-air kisses
laughter and tears
and long drives from the city
a mind full of ideas
dreams breathing
sorrowful eyes sweating
all these things come and go
they have been
and will forever be
a fabric woven deep
in the heart of circumstance
and when the wheels touch down
and when the fog of flight grows dim
we will emerge from this ark of travel
to embrace the ones we love
with cheeks and kisses
hearts and flutters
a week to spend
made of days and evenings
wondering with delight
never wanting to know of leaving
nor of sadness
nor of night
for we have come from far flung places
and known these ways before
they are locked up in secret spaces
like a river flowing sound
and as we dive to the depths of wonder
with laughter at our side
once more we will be together
under stars that throb and bind
with nothing left but forever
these sweet simple moments alive
oh how we share each other
in these moments of passing time
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/2/12
19
Jun
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: blog, blogger, blogging, born, dancing, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, green, inspiration, June, light, ocean, one, outside, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pray, rhymes, secret, soft, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, touch, whisper, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
you have to fight for the yard-long miles
like the wind in the cross-long fallows
alight with the fire of folded magic
tendering your sweet resignations
like fingerprints that smudge a cloudless sky
for we are the lost ones weary
come from an ocean of stolen devotions
circling and diving we pray
the melting wax of vintage candles
forming a sidewalk, nighttime display
they tell a sweet secret story
born in the june of the day
paid for like the rhymes of an hour
in this spreading motion at play
but there will always be something
breathless and lost in the wanting
it is found in the heart as it matters
a little whisper that swallows
and when it comes up for air
from the pillowed window frame seat
it will look to capture the moment
proud of the bounty
that lays at your feet
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/19/12
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