Posts Tagged ‘wind’

“a chair inside my heart”

i have seen her bathing

in a swell of mountain sweat

her curls singed by miles

the smell of oak on a fiery wind

and yet so soft does she remain

a sculptured form in cotton

a sugary whisp of air so gently stumbling

 

my eyes are widened with amazement

a dusting of cinnamon upon my coffee-stained lips

this powdered world from which i see

toes and eye lashes and all those wonderful things

a foot in leathered straps

over rocks and moss and oceans

 

big blue dreams are cascading

the streets are filled with stars

all of them are falling

wishing they were yours

but none have come to know you

the way you take your toast in the morning

on a chair inside my heart

 

and so there it is

on a perch so gently nestled

between my ribs and near my throat

a home that you have found

a smallness by the river

a distant trickling sound

 

but even should it grow silent

the colors still remain

those that paint the picture

of this vast, unbroken chain

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  6/27/18

“falloween”

cold words fall like a drafty afterthought

the dream catcher leaves have arrived

our woods retain sudden memories of warmth

there is a new kind of music that swirls in our driveways

and a familiar sort of dance

it is one for the trees

 

and for their dearly departed souls

they crumble and drift

they rattle and hum

a trillion cells immortal

gone to live beneath our feet

 

and oh how we breathe

our hearts in repose

we have sanctioned their coming

though such memories are but on loan

they have triggered our senses

those first to be found

now surrendering forever

for in the winter they will have gone

 

but i shall be your ghosted firefly

your remnants of summer

and in the evening your pumpkins

so lovingly carved out of light

 

i will smile from doorways open

and walk your sugary streets

for i have been in such worlds

i have tasted those treats

 

but while we are here

in a place…

so strangely familiar

perhaps we should ask…

 

what words have you seen falling?

are you such a catcher of dreams?

we must ponder how they answer

those warm wooden trees

it is not enough to simply listen

to hear their songs in the night

we must wonder why they tremble

so cold with delight

as if their notes were softly telling

this story of the night

 

or should we wonder?

have we missed something greater…

perhaps just this season

our earthly prayers bathed in light

or a symbol freshly shattered

a reflective mirror

for those without sight

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 10/26/16

“the dreaming swell”

she has come to me

like a swell of autumnal golden wind

her immense energies run wild through my hair

my sunglassed watery eyes are singing

the scratch and rustle of her myriad refuse

it litters my pathway like a dream cut from a yellowish brown world

and i am stillness in her path

my mindful steps so quietly touch the firmament

i drink the enormity of this boundless energy

and wonder over the former parts of myself

now cast among the stars of a different reality

how now do they mingle?

what sly and clever forms have they taken?

are they the birds that sang to me when I was lost?

are they the clouds that kept the morning sun at bay?

perhaps i should just never know…

and why shall i lament?

for i am the bird that sings upon this morning

and in the evening, the clouds will i become

i will shade you from such burdens

giving flight to lost horizons

and when that kiss of wind

it comes again in spring

my lips will be unfrozen

having awakened from this dream

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  11/12/15

“canopies in the rain”

the cold blue winds of time may shift and carry

but for our friends

in the balance they remain

like a green spring warmth

our canopies in the rain

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 4/18/14

“in the darkest wood”

pollen lingers in the air

like the dust of angels

resting on a field of forgotten numbers

born of long division remainders

in a tomb of winter bells

no longer sounding

we are far from frosted white beaches

far from the capes and coves that shelter

here is where the voices mingle

in the windless halls and old theatres

just outside the walls of braided grass

green with envy

alone in the darkest wood

and breathing…

just breathing

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 2/22/13

“such strange things we reconcile”

the wind tickles my face

like the fraying strands of yarn

from an old afghan heirloom

distant songs wash over me

they still ring in my ears

like a peaceful muted siren

and the smell of orange zest

lingers fragrant and happy

foot soldiers come out of the light

covered in syrian dust

such strange things we reconcile

as we lay resting

on couches in the afternoon’s golden swoon

they follow

like shadows on the grass

as we pass from our doorways

to the great emptiness outdoors

walking and wondering

with footsteps in time

the cold smell of moisture in the air

and the green rust of sculpted metal

painting pictures in our canvassed memory

further now in cars

as the smells turn from warm apples to smoke

the safety of our homes long forgotten

wheels bouncing along the concrete plain

they bring us through doors

through differing thresholds

and in those rooms of foreign delight

where fire lifts the darkness

we seek warm embrace

to make sense of it all

in the arms of our lovers

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/6/12

“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

“beauty”

“beauty”

 

what is it about beauty?

the way she curls up so tightly ‘round your heart

all the pressure of the mighty universe

wound fist-tight

like a ball of string

as of yet unmet by needle

untouched by soft hands

 

she is an angel purring at your doorstep

and all the yards of european lace

all the flowers in spring

her equal they are not

for she is the taste of sweetness

on loving lips so warm

she brings about the yearning

in your dreams before the dawn

casting out the darkness

no mirror to unworthy forms

 

her movement strikes at elegance

words beyond compare

yellow daisy waterfalls

taking a distant second place

 

she is the wind and song

the gentle ocean spray

the beaming light of towers

in the ancient city squares

 

oh how you thought you knew her

she is gone now from your sight

she filters through the ages

filling darkness with her light

 

and if you want her back

you must speak these words tonight

come back to me sweet beauty

for i am nothing when you’re gone

you have left an empty void

and in the stillness  i await

to see the casting of your shadow

on my pillow bedside warm

and even should i die

before your form it does return

i will long for you in lifetimes

not just this one

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/2/12

“california”

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

“for lauren”

in the falling season
trees scatter their lost children about the ground
they form road-side memorials that dress the streets
there final days spent in shades of blood and turmeric
as winter takes its grip on land and shore
they frost and crumble like morning scones at your bedside
the seasons flow on like some western surveyor
and we feel the chill of northern lights upon us
together we sip pinot in the evening glow of muted lamps
a bundle of threadbare blankets stashed safely in the wardrobe
tales of old are spun like so much yarn on your grandmother’s lap
and together we come to part the sorrows
grey days seem a continuum
darkness falls early and slow slumber awaits
but we welcome her
our spring darling beauty
dressed in alpine meadow colors
and we venture to the sea for relief
the salt spray and southern breezes make us whole again
around the table gathering conversation grows
and leaves are born again to mothering oaks
we raise our glasses high
and scrape the splinters from our fresh broken chop sticks
this evening will bring dinner and talk of travels
summer awaits in all her glory
for we are her progeny
and she
our savior

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/26/12

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