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
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3
Mar
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: acre, acres, air, alive, alone, angel, angels, bliss, boats, bright, cake, cars, carve, cheeks, child, children, clouds, confections, craft, crafted, creature, creatures, crown, dawn, distance, distant, farms, food, gentle, glass, glistening, gold, grass, grow, heart, hearts, hills, home, homes, horizon, land, laugh, laughter, leaving, live, might, morning, nectar, orange, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pollen, restless, rust, rusting, search, searching, shadows, sing, singing, sleep, sleeping, song, speak, spirit, spirits, static, steam, stone, summer, sun, sway, sweat, sweet, sweetness, swell, swim, swimming, swoon, vision, visions, wand, wands, warmth, water, weep, wood. Leave a comment
cars on the water
swimming in a glass
half-full of morning laughter
and the tire-irons rusting
like restless creatures
tall in the grass and singing
like wands in the woodshop carving
and crowns that lay alone sleeping
they wait for spirits and the leaving
while the boats on land are steaming
there they search for the horizon bleeding
orange and gold and glistening
we are the shadows that grow in that distance
and the mighty clouds that weep
we are the static in the air
and the hearts that swell and swoon
we sweat and sway
our cheeks they gently brush
for we are the pollen and the nectar
our sweet confections crafted
of angels, food and cake
and when we speak of visions
in the straining hour of dawn
we think upon the hillside
looking down over the hills and farms
and we know of the children waking
and the bliss of beds and homes
we think then of the warming
when comes the sun this morning?
a disc alive and bright
we move swiftly through the acres
through the channels carved in stone
wishing only for this moment
one more summer here alone…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/3/13
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