Posts Tagged ‘writers blog’


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


“carved in whispers”

our doors lie open wounded

driven like the dust of papered worlds

a brilliantly tattered totem

so ornately carved in whispers

and on the tips of tongues

upon the tops of pillars

they are but simple prayers

flowing from our lips like vapor

such evidence as we have found

for it was written in the stars

and printed in the papers

it was pressed below our tables

in the hands of mystics and soothsayers

like prisons we possessed them

we trapped their sweetness between layers

and here alone we travel

to our backyard garden swings

the air of smoke so thick and full of dreams

with our hands we try to catch them

so we may discover what remains

but as we hold them in our lungs

they shall take our only breath

for they are faster and they savor

those simple songs that dance in shadow

like broken leaves along the ground

sweetly rustling in the evening

and when our mornings come

we expect to capture them once more

but forever we have lost them

and never again shall they be found

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 11/26/14

“little swallow”

little swallow

on your lofty perch

what do you see up there so high

twittering away on the evening sky


is it the stars so bathed in light

or the people

with their hopes and dreams and fears


i wonder what you find amazing

would it be the glitter and the gold

or just the simple cobblestones

and the way they define our paths


where do you go in our darkest hours

when we need your whispered song


oh how it rings in troubled silence

like prayers so layered in the dust


alone on the windswept plain

the wagon spinning wheels

they turn me round and over

ever to your thoughts


and if just

for one simple, quiet moment

i could be your iris wide

i would take in all your memories

with folded wings along my side

striking out the distance

to quench the fires of my strife

and be a simple creature

warmed by swollen thermals in the night


i would love you for this honor

to look out from your eyes

and we would be friends as such forever

one of land and one of sky


-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari  7/24/14

“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

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