Posts Tagged ‘wind’


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




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

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