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written by: Anahit Arustamyan
@anonarnune20141
The page was written but now it’s blank.
I wonder where the words have escaped.
Maybe a ravine swallowed them up.
I remember the ink was even bluer than a spring bluebell.
The words both cried and giggled like a river in its craze.
Now the page is as pale as my weary face.
The page was even larger than a blue-eyed lake.
I don’t see its size now in this huge shade.
I was born in Yerevan, Armenia, 1963. After graduating the university I published some of my earlypoems in the local anthology called ''Garun'' translated into English ''Spring''. My later works were published in different international anthologies and online magazines. I authored paperback books entitled My Intoxicated Ink, The Queen Of Metaphors and e-books entitled My Wandering Muse, My Lyrical Tongue and The Phantom's Dolphin. My books are in English and available on Amazon and Lulu.
Latest posts by Anahit Arustamyan (see all)
- October Melody - October 15, 2021
- What Do I Have To Mend? - April 1, 2021
- MINUTES - July 10, 2020
