Posts Tagged ‘world’

“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

Advertisements

“the dreaming sea”

swimming in the dreaming pool

at the end of the dimming world

fireflies are whirring in the droning distance

sugar clouds are rushing overhead

here?

in the thinning grey…

clocks move like motionless time

they are the coming fall

women are driving on maps of gold

here in the sleeping shadows

one deep layer beneath another

falling through the hourglass way

on the sand of yellow beaches

near the castles of the moon

there in the slumbering bay

you are breathing now slowly

in the grip of this evening’s foray

there will be lips

and kisses

and millions of days

drifting faster, then slowly

well on your way

but when comes morning?

nearing like starlight

warming little faces that flee

there will be no more swimming

no more wondering

there is nothing more i can say

for you are alone now

set a drifting…

there?

in the dreaming sea

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/22/12

“circles”

fleet of foot

on wide slanted lines

precious little artifacts

hidden in the moorish design

glistening azure tiles to the sky

white hot roof tops

and spice market flags

they shift and flap

high above the mud walls

and the summer fountain yards

beads turn over clutched hands

nimbly building prayers of glass

shattering spirited worlds

affecting far removed hearts

away in the fields of some distant land

and there, among the banyan trees

shade grows long with the day

turning and pressing the jam scented fruit

soon to be on its way

to coffee houses filled with steam

a taste between conversations

and the words they carry home

will fit like the scabbard blade

passing between lips

unknown they will digest

with a passing sleight of hand

a forehead kiss goodnight

the dreamers will have dreamed

they will awake

to mornings yellow light

hearing the sounds of silence

and the birds aloft in flight

crossing endless landscapes

around and round they go

always back to where they started

but they do not even know

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/20/12

%d bloggers like this: