Angela Keshishyan was born in Yerevan, Armenia and raised in California. She is currently working on her M.A. in Literature.

Articles

Matryoshka

I’ve come to hold sadness in my hands To walk a thousand miles in the hottest desert. Drink not water. My feet swollen and bruised. Bloody. I’ve come to see the face of great-grandmother. We have the same dark eyes. We have the same scraped soul. We bear the same name. There is no escaping. She’s in me. She’s in me. In my last moments of life, I want to release the sadness....

June 19, 2010 · Angela Keshishyan

Moved

This morning I saw the mountains make love I saw them embrace and caress They told me a story of love with their stillness and it moved me a thousand times I wondered how such a story could be told in a moment not realized This afternoon I watched the wind do a pirouette I watched it move with such grace and gallantry It told me a story of loss with its dance and it moved me a thousand times...

October 10, 2009 · Angela Keshishyan

Appetite for Creation

Urge to create, maddening. Fever rising. Heartbeat growing. Breaths intensifying. Emptiness. To create chaos, chaotic. To create madness, maddening. Why do the words walk away in this endless field? Leaf trails and stunned stares at loneliness. Thirst, come and sprinkle this dryness with words Hunger, starving for expressive expressions. To crave creation, creating.

August 22, 2009 · Angela Keshishyan

One

One day I want to speak Italian Swim with starfish Fly a plane Write a book Play the piano Feel unconditional love One day I want to save the world Touch the moon Be a legend only heard of in stories One day I Will, Because I am the strength of Hercules One day I will But not today Today I am still a book Only half read A glass Only half full A gift Only half unwrapped A song Only half heard A dance Only half moved Today I am still a fruit Only half peeled A tree Only half grown A flower Only half blossomed...

January 31, 2009 · Angela Keshishyan

Her

All HER life she’s felt trapped. Trapped, blocked, choked. No air, no life, no chance SHE tried to gasp for air But SHE was stopped, Stripped of the right Chained, buckled, beaten down NO! No SHE was told. And what was this word? This word that stopped HER? Why did it stand in HER way? Was it that powerful, this word? NO! No SHE heard until her final moment Until no more air was left No chance, no crack, No!...

December 20, 2008 · Angela Keshishyan