Angel's Peotry Corner

[angel4hope]

lol opposite 4 me-i can read joseph's but cant read acher's weeeeeirddddd

[ExtraHye]

lol opposite 4 me-i can read joseph's but cant read acher's weeeeeirddddd

Me too, I can't read Acher's font.

[angel4hope]

Մեկը չեղավ, որ իմանար վշտերս,

Քնքուշ ձեռքով դարման աներ վերքերիս.

Մեկը չեղավ, որ գուրգուրեր վարդերս,

Անուշ բույր տար, վարդի գույն տար երգերիս:

 

Կյանքս կտամ սրտից բխած համբույրին,

Ա՜խ, թէ մեկը ինձ հասկանա՜ր ու սիրե՜ր:

Ի՞նչ կա երկրում և՛ սրբազան, և՛ անգին,

Քան թէ զոհվել, քան թէ լինել անձնվեր:

 

Բայց ես կյանքում շա՛տ սիրեցի ու լացի, —

Մեկը չեղավ, որ ամոքեր վշտերս,

Սիրող սրտի ծարավ, ծարավ մնացի,

Մեկը չեղավ, որ գուրգուրեր վարդերս...

 

ԱՎԵՏԻՔ ԻՍԱՀԱԿՅԱՆ

1875-1957

 

i can totally relate to that one there... its rather gloomy and sad...i can honestly say it brought a tear to my eyes....

Edited February 17, 2004 by angel4hope

[gurgen]

Beautiful Joseph

 

keep it up

[Hye_Acher]

Thank Hye Acher. Vahan Teryan is one of my favorite poets.

Angel, I can read Acher's post in Armenian but Joseph Parikian's post is just a bunch of small square's for me. I don't know why in some posts I can see the Armenian letters while on others' it's unreadable.

Anushik I’m glad you enjoyed the poems. Vahan Terian is also one of my favorite poets.

Angel and Extra I don’t know why you guys are having hard time reading my fonts

[Hye_Acher]

ÐÆÜ Ø²ÜÎàôÂÚàôÜ

 

 

Ø»ÏÇó ÙÇ ëáË« Ù»ÏÇó ÙÇ Ñ³ó ·áÕ³ÝáõÙ«

¶ÝáõÙ ¿ÇÝù ²ñ÷³ã³ÛÁ ÉáÕ³ÝáõÙ£

 

êáí³Í« ͳñ³í« µáÏáïÝ ÁÝÏÝáõÙ ë³ñ áõ Óáñª

ÞñçáõÙ ¿ÇÝùª ³Ý·ÇïáõÃÛ³Ùµ µ³Ëï³íáñ£

 

²ß˳ñÑÝ, ³ë»ë« ë³ñÇ Ñ»ï»õ« í»ñç³ÝáõÙ©©©

ÆçÝáÕ ³ñ»õÝ Çñ»Ý Ñ»ï ¿ñ Ù»½ ï³ÝáõÙ©©©

 

â·Çï»ÇÝùª á±í ¿ñ ÅåïáõÙ« á±í ɳÉÇë«

à±í ¿ñ Ù»½ ѳó« á±í Ù»ñ ³ãùÇÝ É³ó ï³ÉÇë...

 

â·Çï»ÇÝù« û á±õÙ ÏáõñÍùÝ ¿ñ ½³ñ¹³ñáõÙ

ÒÝͳÕÇÏÁ« áñ Ù»Ýù ¿ÇÝù ÙÇßï µ»ñáõÙ©©©

 

â·Çï»ÇÝùª ³ß˳ñÑÝ Ç±Ýã ¿ñ« Ù³ñ¹Ý DZÝã ¿ñ«

Ø»Ýùª ¹³ñ¹Ç Ù»ç« ã·Çï»ÇÝùª ¹³ñ¹Ý ÇÝã ¿ñ...

 

²¯Ë« ¹»é Ù³ÝáõÏ Ù»Ýù Í»ñ³ó³Í« ·ÉËÇÏáñ

ÞñçáõÙ ¿ÇÝùª ³Ý·ÇïáõÃÛ³¯Ùµ µ³Ëï³íáñ©©©

 

 

ÐàìвÜܺê ÞÆð²¼

 

Extra and Angel can you read the second one???

Good Day!!!

 

EDIT: The second part was unnecessary. Harut

[gurgen]

I can't read this one either

[nairi]

Acher and everyone else using "regular" fonts, go here:

 

http://armenians.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=7777

 

Follow Harut's instructions and then do us all a favor () and run it though his converter here:

 

http://s90830795.onlinehome.us/etc/uniconv/unicode.htm

 

to make the font unicode so that everyone can read it. You can edit your posts after doing this.

[gevo27]

how can it be said, whome love will take,

love will come down and we wont see it

love will scream and we wont hear it

love will knock, and we will deny it

love will send us letters, and we will regard it

 

In time and denying it, we will end up chasing it

We will tell it to stop, and it wont hear us,

we will search, and we wont find it

we will send letters, but it will deny it

we will scream, and love wont hear it

 

how can it be said whome love will take,

In time and denying it, we will end up chasing it

but love is neither there, nor is it not

love cannot be explained, it can only be saught

and some will search forever

 

but i will not loose hope in love, Never

[angel4hope]

wow that was worth giving up 5 minutes of study time to read posts...and gevo where was thins when i was asking for a meaning to love??? lol j/k

 

btw thanx that was a beautiful poem

 

okie dokes--im out

[allarmeniangirl]

here's another love poem. i like it very much

 

 

The Broken Heart

by John Donne

 

He is stark mad, whoever says,

That he hath been in love an hour,

Yet not that love so soon decays,

But that it can ten in less space devour ;

Who will believe me, if I swear

That I have had the plague a year?

Who would not laugh at me, if I should say

I saw a flash of powder burn a day?

 

Ah, what a trifle is a heart,

If once into love's hands it come !

All other griefs allow a part

To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ;

They come to us, but us love draws ;

He swallows us and never chaws ;

By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ;

He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.

 

If 'twere not so, what did become

Of my heart when I first saw thee?

I brought a heart into the room,

But from the room I carried none with me.

If it had gone to thee, I know

Mine would have taught thine heart to show

More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !

At one first blow did shiver it as glass.

 

Yet nothing can to nothing fall,

Nor any place be empty quite ;

Therefore I think my breast hath all

Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;

And now, as broken glasses show

A hundred lesser faces, so

My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,

But after one such love, can love no more.

Edited February 17, 2004 by allarmeniangirl

[Harut]

Հովհաննես Շիրազ

 

*

 

Հին աշխարհը չեմ տեսել

Ու ոչ մի բան չեմ հիշում,

Ու չեմ նրան երազել

Իմ հուշերի մշուշում:

 

Բայց երբ նայում եմ խաղաղ

Մորս դեմքի դալուկին,

Ինձ թվում է, թե մի պաղ

վիշտ է եղել կյանքը հին:

 

Հին աշխարհը չեմ տեսել

Ու ոչ մի բան չեմ հիշում,

Բայց թողել է նա մի թել

Մորս աչքի մշուշում:

 

1934 թ.

[Harut]

ԻՄ ԽԱՂԱՂ ԵՐԵԿՈՆ Է ՀԻՄԱ...

 

Վահան Տերյան

 

Իմ խաղաղ երեկոն է հիմա`

Մեղմալույս եւ տխուր եւ անուշ.

Քեզ երբեք սիրտս չի մոռանա,

Իմ մաքուր, առաջին իմ անուրջ...

 

Տարիներ, տարիներ կսահեն,

Կմեռնեն երազները բոլոր.

Քո պատկերը անեղծ կպահեմ

Օրերում անհաստատ ու մոլոր:

 

Եվ տանջանք, եւ բեկում, եւ թախիծ,

Սեւ օրեր ես դեռ շատ կտեսնեմ.

Անունդ թող փարոս լինի ինձ`

Սուտ կյանքի եւ դառը մահու դեմ...

 

http://armenianpoetry.com/arm/1138.html

[gevo27]

wow that was worth giving up 5 minutes of study time to read posts...and gevo where was thins when i was asking for a meaning to love??? lol j/k

 

btw thanx that was a beautiful poem

 

okie dokes--im out

r u serious, was it really good?? lol. wow.. kewl

thx im flattered,

Cause i wrote that this afternoon after a conversation with someone, took about 5 minutes.. but.. i didnt know you guys would like it..

[Anileve]

Solitude

 

Solitude finds me sitting here,

Breathing deep and gasping breaths.

On the floor, alone in fear.

I want to feel the grasp of death.

And if my heart, it fails to beat,

My mind, it fails to think,

I'd fall right down beneath their feet,

Like a small forgotten mink.

Black - the only colour to explain

How I feel in this prison called life.

I'm devoured by inner pain,

Trying to fight this ongoing strife.

Within these walls I linger,

It's all broken with one touch of a finger.

 

http://www.darkan.blogger.com.br/sadness.jpg

 

I thought it's pretty good, although I think "Depression" would be more of a suitable title for it.

[Anonymouse]

I like the poem and all anileve, but I think you should attach my avatar as a picture to go along with it. It would be more appropriate.

[den_wolf]

Art for the sake of marketing has become the norm these days. Little can you find art for the sake of art. Art has lost its value. Art has been devalued. Anyone who can put two words together proclaims himself or herself a poet. Anyone who can paint two lines on a canvas proclaims himself or herself a painter. Look! My 2 year old kid is a poet! He can draw words out of the hat and put them together, even if they are meaningless!!! He's a poet!! Look! My 3 year old kid is a painter! He can hold the crayons and paint very beautiful gibberish!!! Suitable for the Tate Liverpool! In another 5 years, this will happen. Get ready for it. The industrialisation of art, people. I am beginning to enjoy this. Let's get the computer to randomly pick words and put them together and form a poem. Ahhh! The fun of it all!!

[Anileve]

Art for the sake of marketing has become the norm these days. Little can you find art for the sake of art. Art has lost its value. Art has been devalued. Anyone who can put two words together proclaims himself or herself a poet. Anyone who can paint two lines on a canvas proclaims himself or herself a painter. Look! My 2 year old kid is a poet! He can draw words out of the hat and put them together, even if they are meaningless!!! He's a poet!! Look! My 3 year old kid is a painter! He can hold the crayons and paint very beautiful gibberish!!! Suitable for the Tate Liverpool! In another 5 years, this will happen. Get ready for it. The industrialisation of art, people. I am beginning to enjoy this. Let's get the computer to randomly pick words and put them together and form a poem. Ahhh! The fun of it all!!

Wow you are a bitter little midget wolf, perhaps you should restrain yourself from devouring so many little red riding hoods. Indigestion is known to cause bad breath and an even worse attitude...

[den_wolf]

Wow you are a bitter little midget wolf, perhaps you should restrain yourself from devouring so many little red riding hoods. Indigestion is known to cause bad breath and an even worse attitude...

I am beginning to suspect that this animosity from you is due to the feminism thread. Yes, I am bitter. For the likes of Dionne Brand, who's not even worth Emily Dickinson's toenail.

 

Poetry is not about putting prose into poetry form, which is what Brand seems to be doing. Put her poetry in prose form, and it will still make sense. In fact, it was, I am beginning to suspect, written in prose, then transformed into poetry with the removal of punctuation marks and cutting lines. Poetry goes deeper than that. Writing a "poem" for the sake of being called a "poet" is different from writing a poem because of inspiration. And Dionne Brand admits that she's the first type:

 

XIV i

 

I know you don't like poems, especially mine

and especially since mine never got told when

you need them, and I know that I live some

inner life that thinks it's living outside but

isn't and only wakes up when something knocks

too hard and when something is gone as if gazing

up the road I miss the bus and wave a poem at

its shadow. But bus and shadow exist all the same

and I'll send you more poems even if they arrive

late. What stops us from meeting at this place

and imagining ourselves big as the world and broad

enough to take it in and grow ancient is fear and

our carelessness, and standing in the thrall

of the wicked place we live in and not seeing

a way out all the time and never clearly all at once

and not at the same time and abandoning each other

to chance and small decisions, but if I ever thought

that I could never recover the thought struggling

to live through my imperfect mouth and life and way,

if I thought that I could do nothing about the world

then ... well, and we've hung on to old hurts as if

that was all there was and as if no amount of sadness

would be enough for our old, insistent,

not becoming selves; and as if sadness should not end,

so for this I'll send you more poems even if they

only waves and even if I only look up late to see

your shadow rushing by.

 

Dionne Brand, Land to Light On

 

Now call her a poet, and that poem a poem, but I don't consider her or her "poem" one.

Edited February 17, 2004 by den_wolf

[gevo27]

well, i dont really think what people call themselves, its what they are. If people put 3 words together call it a poem, then themselves a poet, then thats good for them... It doesnt matter what they perceive of themselves, or what perception of them the public has. It matters if they "are" a poet, or if that was a poem... And this i think we have certain standards which we judge by, just like everything else.

 

Mainly good poems are compared to great poems of the past, and judged that way, but there is much more in it than that, i dont wanna even get into the techinical aspects of it

[den_wolf]

Well, how do you judge say, a poem? if it's merely prose rendered into poetry, is it still poetry? for me it is not. and yes, older poetry was great poetry, and it should be the standard by which we judge things. today's poetry is a disgrace to poetry itself, and to all the greats that gave poetry a history. don't you agree that a lot of the published poetry is solely for marketing reasons? i mean come now, surely it was more difficult in Dickinsons' time to get published than it is now.. today you can even get published if you have enough money. it's not even about artistic worth. i can reverse a sentence like this, and still get published: ?yad s'remmus a ot eeth erapmoc I llahS

[Hye_Acher]

ԻՄ ԽԱՂԱՂ ԵՐԵԿՈՆ Է ՀԻՄԱ...

 

Վահան Տերյան

 

Իմ խաղաղ երեկոն է հիմա`

Մեղմալույս եւ տխուր եւ անուշ.

Քեզ երբեք սիրտս չի մոռանա,

Իմ մաքուր, առաջին իմ անուրջ...

 

Տարիներ, տարիներ կսահեն,

Կմեռնեն երազները բոլոր.

Քո պատկերը անեղծ կպահեմ

Օրերում անհաստատ ու մոլոր:

 

Եվ տանջանք, եւ բեկում, եւ թախիծ,

Սեւ օրեր ես դեռ շատ կտեսնեմ.

Անունդ թող փարոս լինի ինձ`

Սուտ կյանքի եւ դառը մահու դեմ...

 

http://armenianpoetry.com/arm/1138.html

have you heard Aram Asatrian's virsion of this poem??? well the lyrics are the same he just made a song out of it.... very cool

Mersi Harut i'm going to print this poem and frame it

Good Day

[bellthecat]

ԻՄ ԽԱՂԱՂ ԵՐԵԿՈՆ Է ՀԻՄԱ...

 

Վահան Տերյան

 

Իմ խաղաղ երեկոն է հիմա`

Մեղմալույս եւ տխուր եւ անուշ.

Քեզ երբեք սիրտս չի մոռանա,

Իմ մաքուր, առաջին իմ անուրջ...

 

Տարիներ, տարիներ կսահեն,

Կմեռնեն երազները բոլոր.

Քո պատկերը անեղծ կպահեմ

Օրերում անհաստատ ու մոլոր:

 

Եվ տանջանք, եւ բեկում, եւ թախիծ,

Սեւ օրեր ես դեռ շատ կտեսնեմ.

Անունդ թող փարոս լինի ինձ`

Սուտ կյանքի եւ դառը մահու դեմ...

 

http://armenianpoetry.com/arm/1138.html

For those without Armenian fonts installed, Harut's posting looks like poetry of barcodes

 

Which reminded me of:

 

I am sitting at the top of the world,

with my little black buzzer beside me,

my bum is cold and my face is white,

this is my message to you ...

dit dit dit dit

dit

dit dah dit dit

dit dit

dit dah dah dah

 

"Little Black Buzzer" by Ivor Cutler

 

(You can hear it here.)

[angel4hope]

SERENADE

 

 

by Edgar Allan Poe

(1850)

 

 

So sweet the hour, so calm the time,

I feel it more than half a crime,

When Nature sleeps and stars are mute,

To mar the silence ev'n with lute.

At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes

An image of Elysium lies:

Seven Pleiades entranced in Heaven,

Form in the deep another seven:

Endymion nodding from above

Sees in the sea a second love.

Within the valleys dim and brown,

And on the spectral mountain's crown,

The wearied light is dying down,

And earth, and stars, and sea, and sky

Are redolent of sleep, as I

Am redolent of thee and thine

Enthralling love, my Adeline.

But list, O list,- so soft and low

Thy lover's voice tonight shall flow,

That, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem

My words the music of a dream.

Thus, while no single sound too rude

Upon thy slumber shall intrude,

Our thoughts, our souls- O God above!

In every deed shall mingle, love.

[angel4hope]

Down By The Sea

The pulsing sound

of moving sea;

The ocean surf-

tranquility!

An ocean breeze-

With sunset's glaze;

Seaoats in view-

and ocean waves!

An endless flow-

of sand and shells;

Ebbed back and forth-

by ocean swells!

The flight of gulls-

along the shore;

A fleeing sand crab-

in sand to bore!

The seashore is special-

a great place to be;

God's love abounds-

down by the sea!

 

Glen Claude