19
Sep
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, alone, angel, angels, backyard, birth, blog, blogger, blogging, buried, burn, civilization, colors, couples, creating, cry, dance, dancer, dancing, day, deep, delight, distant, divine, dream, dreamer, dreaming, dreams, dry, eyelashes, eyes, fall, fire, fires, forgotten, frost, gleaming, grass, heart, home, house, lashes, lips, meadow, might, morning, night, one, patterns, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pools, prism, quivering, release, sad, salt, shine, sing, soft, soul, star, starlight, storm, strange, strangers, stream, strolling, tears, think, thinker, thinking, thoughts, time, touch, trapped, vision, woman, women, write, writer, writing, yearning. Leave a comment
words are scattering through a prism
forming colors in the fall air
they bound from lip to ear
cascading down to form glistening pools
soon to be frosted over
trapped and waiting for release
couples are strolling arm in arm
creating patterns in the waning day
they step from house and home
forming lines of chaotic display
soon to be dusty and forgotten
saddened by the coming storm
why come the thoughts of night
intruding with sheer delight
over folds and fires
gleaming in the backyard distant
how come the tears that stream
driven down cheekbones curving
over eyes and lashes
dry now in the salty burn
these little questions run
like deer in the morning meadows
they hide among the splintering grass
alone in the middling heart
tearing at the fabric of civilization
buried deep in the mounding soul
and sometimes comes a woman
a vision sharp as sight
with a voice that sounds of angels
when they cry alone at night
they sing and shine like starlight
bolting arrows with quivering might
and when they reach their target
a piercing so divine
we find that we are no longer strangers
simply born of different times
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 9/19/12
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23
Dec
Posted by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, beauty, cathedral, children, dancing, death, flesh, grace, home, man, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, song, soul, sweet, vision, woman, writer, writing, youth. 1 comment
in the swift turn of air
a solemn song dissipates
it turns the shattered leaves
and sends a high chorus
through the great cathedrals of man.
but they are not of stone,
they are built of the soft flesh.
they resonate from the soulful tomb
carving and twisting a vision of beauty,
and in the orange-sweet breath of sound
they live and they die
but never, never are they gone!
passing the broken homes
and scraping the high towers
here in this lofty space…
slowly they dwindle,
slowly they dance by the sweet ear’s of children
the vibrant echo fluttering faster
in the ageless heart of youth.
the dream grows on now!
it tears me from my doldrums
and lifts me into space
forever to remember
this momentary grace
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/23/11 ( inspired by today but written for the past)
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