Posts Tagged ‘write’

“beyond the whisping clouds”

swollen hearts tumble in the old fashioned way

they are consumed by the fires of eternity

 

but this is a day of reprieves

the plumes of early summer heat have momentarily abated

and in this sweetened break of time

cool fragrant breezes run like softened pebbles under your feet

the grasses seem to live and breathe

birds tell stories from their twiggy homes

and for the first time

you understand the yarns they weave

 

oh how i wonder

just what this night will bring

shall it be this day’s cool cousin

dressed in faded blues

 

will fires work the sky

above our silken flags

 

will the moon be cut just right

beyond the whisping clouds

 

why all these things i ask of you

they somewhat matter not

for what i wish to know is grandeur

your face in the waning light

and perhaps a kiss between us

before you take your starry flight

 

-Jason Cyrus Aktharekhavari 7/2/14

“red ant fires”

red ant fires smolder in the georgia dust

and the droning sound of pollinators

it trickles through the air

like summer balloons on an evening sky

 

the old orchards have fallen to decay

the fruit is bitter and flush with the taste of sin

 

there are gravestones that stretch in glimmering white

so plainly beautiful and bursting with emotion

 

it all unfolds like a dreamscape

childhood vacations etched in memory

 

and all along the coast

among the grass and swaying palms

the sand is built of castles

we are kings upon our thrones

 

but the sodden wheels of time

they have drenched our dreaming wheels

 

for now we talk when once we tumbled

and pray when once we slept

 

we have been cast out from our ocean

our toes beneath the foam

and we wonder why this happened

how we came to know this home

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 6/25/14

“this land”

we are floating on fiery seas

in search of those lonely ice-thrown shores

for we know what lies beneath the tufted snow

there are dreams that rest in the buried ground

and little green whispers that filter through

like strands of living grass that kiss the sky

what soft, warm light will come

when homes and hearts find this willing space

so spin your praying wheels

and carry your colored flags to mountains on high

travel to the ends of the earth

searching for that tender resting place

and when that wondrous day comes

when water and light form such perfect shadows

you will be there in the darkness

that lovely hour known

watching coals that barely glow

and when the sun comes to rising

you will step out from the door

gazing at the distance

on this land you call your own

 

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/22/14

“beyond the flooded, folding fields”

snowflowers swirl and spin in the grey of swollen spheres
and this could be the saddest world we’ve ever seen
here… the folding fields are flooded
an armada stuck fast to the frozen sky
the searchlights blast through the hilly fog
just near this warm enchanting place
just inside the old stores
among the smoke and mirrors
the cards of tarot lay scattered among the decking
like ancient stones torn across a sea of invisibility
where soft silhouettes toast the spanish sky
their shirts like sails in a violent wind
they dance like lights in the christmas wild
for this may be the only way they’ve ever known
and I am here…
among the fierce and downtrodden
and we all shall rise!
like holy rosaries in the morning mist
til the holes in our hearts are mended and woven
for this shall not be our final resting place
we will follow the signs that tell of paths
beyond the flooded, folding fields
our shy wiry eyes will glisten once more
and just there beyond the spray
where the dark golden water falls
we will breathe the cool, sweet wind
and fill our lungs with laughter

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/2/13

“the dark of loneliness”

sweet sapphire eyes peek at me from behind the frosted glass
like a telescope staring straight into the burning sun
they are restless and probing
they glitter like a snow that has not yet fallen
and they wonder why i wait
just one, long, smooth breath away
but i cannot say
for my words are drifting in the mist
they are buried deep beneath the frozen ground
and in that moment
where speech and feelings falter
i have lost her loving gaze
those blue lights that once did sparkle
now retreating in the dust
to be swept away forever
gone drifting ever deeper
into the dark of loneliness

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 10/30/13

“the home and the hearth”

lonely spheres of influence
dance like falling leaves
they crackle in the burning dust
absorbed like memories in the mortar
a tower of bricks and stones
for we are now among the falling season
our warm hands gently slipping
the chilly autumn light abounds
where once our homes stood gripping
tethers and strings are snapping
and in our sleep we dream of mending
the fields where once bright flowers faltered
sweet tea and honey kisses
you have dressed yourself in sunlight
now you smolder and shake
but i am here to save you
such a damsel in distress
i have washed away the winters
those that froze our tiny nest
and in the wind we hear a distant something
like notes parading through the air
but we must reach for them so quickly
holding fast with all our might
for if they change their tune too swiftly
our song no longer will remain
we will be cast amongst the shadows
two lives only lived in vain
but if we hold them tightly
with our hearts and not our hands
they will carry us warm and sweetly
to our homes and hearths and friends

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 10/9/13

“clocks”

minutes flow like the sun
for they come and go
like old roommates they reside in the summer heat
and pass slowly from winter’s memory
they live in wooden boxes
and hang from slender wrists
a gentle, tickling reminder to us all
their arms raised to the edges
pointing outward at the void
and yet they revolve diligently
ever fixed in your mortality
such is the symmetry of life
from such humble beginnings they have grown
and now they glow in blinding illumination
scattered among the desktops and window boxes of this world
there are many places that they call home
folded neatly on display
napping in your bedside table

oh how sweet this sounds
my ode to time
in all its varied pieces
but you too also know
what here I have not said
this is the truth
I only wish
with a longing so profound
to cast them all from my existence
for the seconds that they steal
let me be without them
so that forever i may roam
in this place but not in line
i shall cast away the hours
and the tombs in which they live
born again to freedom
no longer in the grasp of clutching hands

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 8/22/13

“books”

there’s a cascading fall that runs the wild glen
with effortless movement it so captures the eyes
like a soul soothing salve to the enemy within

and there are monsters that roam
in the wild lonely-ness…
though seldom they are seen
for they live in the darkness
like sounds from the distance
their only home found in dreams

down in the valley
the ash rises in heat
over fires that burn like a cold stolen thing

for we are the embers that glow in the night
we are friends with the fireflies
and we love how they dance
in a rhythm chaotic
as if they know something more
something distant, unseen
like words on a page
that disappear from our sight
leaving only traces of the morning
pure, clean and bright

and if only one day i should find them
those lines on a tree
i shall commit them to memory
so they should never be lost

for we owe that much to them
as they conjured our dreams
and they filled our shelves
only asking that sometimes
we blow dust from their covers
and take them to bed
so that once more they may open
a window unto this world
and rest ever gently
in our arms, by our side
longed for and remembered
cherished and clean

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/31/13

“rusted silence”

hinges hang in rusted silence
like the arms of wise men
they roam the russian steppe
and there in the distant snowy drift
the sables are warm in their woven dens

beyond distant borders
holy men hang in celestial silence
slowly breathing
warmed by monastic fires
they transcend this earth of stone

and on the rocky paths
strewn with men and trinkets
the animal bells ring with a sweet vibration
like rhythms hung from a noted page

such are the stories of far flung lands
born of cold mirror wishes
dreamt in silent hope

for we all are hanging
by this thread as it were
suspended in this web of sugared powder
calculating the taste of sound
driven to the edge of this glassless sea

and like you
i too was born in that distant storm
and like you
i wait for the rising wind
for in the sour mist
there will come the bitter tidings
forming clouds of steel and clay
and from those sacred elements
our cities will be born
and we will live there safely
among the crowns and thorns

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 7/16/13

“beneath, behind and in between…”

a kaleidoscope of winter petals
glittering in the sky
dashing gently all about
in the grasp of this sideways driving rain
but the pines are simply resting
always… never changing
fires burn in the not so distant future
like a wood-smoke fever dream
sounds spiral down your ears
like fingers that tickle a harp string
little static impulses begin to take hold
the children of the trees ripen in the loamy ground
just below the flight of future summer fireflies
while sweet little creatures arch and yawn
a million smallish toes that dip into the day
these are the words of spring
the notes to sing and say
for they are carved upon the face of secret pages
they stand alone for all to see
and when comes the end
and then another
all that will matter
is what was pressed into your memory
beneath, behind
and in between…

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 3/13/13

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