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Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

My husband has purchased an old Zhiguli from a Yezidi young man for $400. It is white with golden velvet interior. “Fit for a lamb,” Charlie jokes as he straps Arpa, our almost two-year-old son, on the back seat. I sit next to him, so I may quickly reach for...
David Poghosyan | Delusion

David Poghosyan | Delusion

The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with heart.                                 Helen Keller Part 1 Revelation My father is a pilot. I’m...
Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

The boy was carefully hiding Grandpa’s photo under the mattress with his head on the pillow, pretending asleep. On the weather-stained photo Grandpa was still young – he was standing by a big round table and sadly smiling. Grandpa’s fists were big, almost in size with the table. Even in...
Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Dedicated to Brussels American School “The Earth is round and rotates not just around the sun, but also around its own axis,” I explain to five-year old Davit. “Round, like the khachapuri Mother bakes?” Davit’s eyes grow round. “Round like the sun, except that the sun does not move, it...
The Shepherd of the Mounts

The Shepherd of the Mounts

Mounts… high, emerald mounts… You, that are the land and throne of the gentle  breeze, sweet-scented flowers, sacred verdure and dews, of lively, cold springs, gloomy clouds, igneous lightnings, gush of waters… You, that are so close to the Almighty, the stars, the moon, to the celestial grants and mysteries,...
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

 Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese civil war after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband. Her poetry reflects a little...
Nune Levonyan | I love fairy-tales

Nune Levonyan | I love fairy-tales

The tree and I get evenly old, but the tree does not make a tragedy of it and each Indian summer does not write poems of defoliation. The tree and I have similarities: we love to dress up and be beautiful to death: but I do not allow common passengers...
Aram Pachyan | Toronto

Aram Pachyan | Toronto

Whenever my father would upset my mother, I would always go to Toronto, where there was an old worn bed with a metal frame placed on top of bee hives, and by its headboard, a bookshelf that practically reached the sky, filled with countless books. In Toronto, I would sit...
Hamo Sahyan| Day Turned Dark

Hamo Sahyan| Day Turned Dark

Day Turned Dark To Sero Khanzadyan It is dark. It is time for The evening meal. My melancholy gradually Evolves into crying. They descended contemplating, bowing On the corner of the haystack, One heaven made of milk dough and One half-moon…
Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY

Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY

At the beginning of Desolation Angels, Jack Kerouac is all alone, a fire lookout on a mountain peak in the Pacific Northwest surrounded by mountain stillness on all sides. A practicing if erratic Buddhist—“I’m the Buddhknown as the quitter,” he quipped once to his friend Gary Snyder—he has an epiphany:...
Vrezh Israelyan | For Granny Aghavni

Vrezh Israelyan | For Granny Aghavni

Many years ago the Armenian author, Avetiq Isahakian, seized the saying, ‘Why don’t you get pulled down to the complete ruin, o you world?’ from the folk’s mouth and delivered it to Granny Aghavni. She was teaching the Armenian language to the village elementary schoolchildren at the time. And her...
Hovhannes Grigoryan | Never die

Hovhannes Grigoryan | Never die

“Never die”, appealed my father to me in the deathbed.
Hasmik Hakobyan | Linguistic realization of modern armenian poetry

Hasmik Hakobyan | Linguistic realization of modern armenian poetry

The diversity of world orders, the thematic-structural elements,the variety of solution of primary problems make the modern poetry significant. Each type of poetry puts its world order and the language of thinking. The words become conventional signs of reality. So what is the poetic reality? What is the function of...
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Aram Mamikonyan | Two poems

Aram Mamikonyan | Two poems

pain was only a woodpecker perched on a temple ma, my hands are torn out daddy, you are far and we are not so much poets to lie at the bottom of the ocean and lit a cigarette till the moss flows and fills our mouths and again a monday drunk and hard-moving, i shall...
Karen Babayan |Blood Oranges Dipped in Salt

Karen Babayan |Blood Oranges Dipped in Salt

Chapter 5 Hangestatsav – Found Peace Hripsimeh’s Story, Tehran, Iran, 5th January 1920 Hripsimeh rose before it was light and lit the portable paraffin stove, took it to warm the bedroom where the children were sleeping. They had been in Tehran for just five years but they had come a long way in more ways...
Ashot Avdalyan |  And you wake the day

Ashot Avdalyan | And you wake the day

DEEPER IN SLEEP THAN A THOUSAND YEARS Deeper in sleep than a thousand years I am kinder than a thousand fairy tales, And more than any spring the mists here Can hear the purling of the warmest creeks. Emptied by my forefather’s hand And in his hand completed, ended, Live these days on the warmest...
AVAG YEPREMYAN | Truly I Say

AVAG YEPREMYAN | Truly I Say

Truly I Say Where we left each other, Our children Will come and go From our disease they will suffer, I know otherwise— upon our tombs, out of our dust roses will grow.   Dead Points As an unuttered word, the Whole is here, indeed, the Ruins of Past-Present- Future—in the Same Pre-Seed. Eternal like...
Alis Hovhannisyan | Globalization

Alis Hovhannisyan | Globalization

It is not hard to guess that in every corner of the world created by our Lord God, even in the desert or the bottom of the ocean, the creatures that He created are immeasurably similar in the way they act. In one moment, an ant, upon discovering the body of a fellow ant, circles...
Hrach Saribekyan | The Sun of Twins

Hrach Saribekyan | The Sun of Twins

Everything was so mute and motionless that it seemed as if daytime was nighttime when the sun shines in the sky. The day would reach the trees and hesitate as under the trees there was untimely night. The sun had cast the shadows of the leaves on the walls of houses. The monotonous creak of...
LEVON KHECHOYAN | The Third Son

LEVON KHECHOYAN | The Third Son

It rained two days ago; the morning sun erupted with a blinding flash of light. The intolerable light quickly dried the damp soil. Our neighbor Nersik was passed out drunk. No matter how much they called him, he didn’t get up. So we took his tractor out of his yard and left without him to...
TIGRAN PASKEVICHYAN | The seventh day

TIGRAN PASKEVICHYAN | The seventh day

HANGOVER Lend me a hand, my dears and nears, I have run out of my wine in the cup of my three and thirty years. I get sober from the morning bolls; lend me a hand. Does the wind blow late, or Won’t your hand find me anymore? I depart unhurriedly in a slow pace,...
Petros Durian | Little lake

Petros Durian | Little lake

  LITTLE LAKE WHY dost thou lie in hushed surprise, Thou little lonely mere ? Did some fair woman wistfully Gaze in thy mirror clear? Or are thy waters calm and still Admiring the blue sky, Where shining cloudlets, like thy foam, Are drifting softly by ? Sad little lake, let us be friends! I...