Tag Archives: International Peace Award Ariadne Sawyer

World Poetry Celebrates Deborah Kelly!

Ariadne’s Notes: We had a great show on March 23, 1-2 pm, the World Poetry Café Radio with featured guests  the  multitalented and beautiful Deborah Kelly in the studio at CFRO, 100.5 FM reading her poetry and talking about her next new adventure; short story writing and her upcoming book.   Phone in guest,Tony Frisby, the  Irish poet calling in from England and reading in Gaelic and English with the wind blowing in the background will have his own feature coming up next. Thanks to Deborah for her co-hosting help also. Thanks to the World Poetry Café Team as well. Due to great demand, most shows have two guests, one in the studio and one call in.

 

LISTEN TO THIS GREAT SHOW NOW!

 

Deborah L.  Kelly is an award winning Poet, who Features regularly throughout the Lower Mainland. She is the author of three published books of poetry, and is currently working on her fourth. Her work has been published in India, Uzbekistan and other countries as well.

Deborah’s work takes us into the duality of spirit and mortality; exploring the mysteries of humanity and Divinity. “As a poet, I feel it a part of my purpose to inspire and uplift others around me.”  Among some of her awards; Deborah was awarded the WIN Distinguished Poet Award, 2016;  and received Honorable Mention, Bharat Int’l Short Story Competition, 2017. www.poetrybydeborah.com

 

Beginning; The End

In the continual flow

of life’s spiral,

we see ourselves

reflected in the light

of cosmic ether:

glowing, pure, immortal.

Though our mortal bodies

die, there is no death.

Passing between worlds

with the light speed

of soul ~ ‘tis then we are whole.

Mortal vessel, unable

to transcend, must be

left behind, will never mend.

The beginning, is always

found at the end.

Deborah L. Kelly (C) All rights reserved by the author.

 

 

 

World Poetry Celebrates Mamta  Agarwal from India!

  Ariadne’s Notes:

The World Poetry Café Radio Show, March 16, 1- 2 PM PST, on CFRO 100.5 FM, welcomed the talented and lovely poetess Mamta  Agarwal calling from India with her beautiful poems in a diverse and unique show. After four years, it was a great honour to talk to her and hear her wonderful poetry once again. http://worldpoetry.ca/?p=9088

Also included was the excerpt of a play by our super technician Victor Schwartzman, who left the radio listeners  breathless during a dramatic section of the play “Listen to Me”. It is being published  in the near future at: https://www.redfez.net

Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day was co-host Neall Ryon with a series of limericks by Bryon.

A very special e-poem Eternity. This is a poem inspired by the passing of time and memory (C)   by  Jason Endfield, (www.jasonendfield.com) from the UK was full of sensitivity and grace .  We hope to hear more  from this talented poet in the future.

To hear this special Show CLICK HERE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bougainvillea’s a poem by Mamta Agarwal, India.

After summer solstice,

We earnestly pray for rain

In north Indian plains,

Drained after a long unforgiving summer.

Gulp down lemonade

Or a drink made of khus, almonds and melon seeds

Or juice of roasted raw mangoes, sweetened

And spiced with crushed cumin

Black salt and fresh mint leaves.

 

I glance at the sky

From my balcony

Eyebrows knitted,

And sigh in dismay

As I watch clouds gather

Tease and leave.

I can smell rain in

Some far off hills,

As wind carries

Wet earth’s fragrance.

 

My eyes rest on woody bougainvillea;

Vines scramble over boundary walls

And fence lines of neighbourhood villas

In colours as varied as a child’s first

Box of water paints.

 

As I take a swig from

My bottle of Kinley,

Am filled with wonder,

How they remain so buoyant

All day and by night,

Despite no respite

From drought and heat.

While the Sun furiously beats

Down on earth’s cracked crust?

 

But mother nurtures the roots,

Who knows how she replenishes itself…?

The thorny vine knows not sloth,

And withstands the fiery wrath

And burst forth in blossoms,

Full of spirit

Just enjoying being.

 

Oft I wonder, some flowers

Are fragrant, others a’int.

See what a plethora

Of colour, size and aura!

How amazing, they parlance

In complete silence.

Captivated, I just forgot

I was feeling hot.

Mamta Agarwal (C) All rights reserved.

 

 

World Poetry Celebrates Elaine Woo!

Ariadne’s notes: An enchanting afternoon with a dragon, Zeus  and the Monkey King invited and presented by the talented poet Elaine Woo. The World Poetry Team of Ariadne Sawyer, host and producer, co-host Neall Ryon, super engineer Victor Schwartzman  and special volunteer Sharon Rowe welcomed her on the World Poetry Café Radio Show, 100.5 FM from 1-2 pm PST. Featured with a moving  e-poem about a young boy from Aleppo was Robert W. McGregor  and two poems from Kevin Morris from England. A tribute to Nadine Sims by Sharon Rowe was also included and will be read at Nadine’s Celebration of Life.

To HEAR THE SHOW CLICK HERE!


 

 

 

 

 

  • Photo with scarf presented by a poet on tour from India. Each sequin represents a World Poet, she says.

Elaine Woo is the author of the poetry collection, Cycling with the Dragon, Nightwood Editions, 2014.  Her work is featured in journals in Canada, the US, the U.K., France, and Hong Kong.  A new manuscript is currently in progress about human foibles, featuring bumbling mortals, including herself, the Classical Greek gods, and the Monkey King of Chinese mythology in fictitious exploits. To order her book, Cycling with the Dragon, go to http://www.nightwoodeditions.com/?page_id=842

This poem is from her upcoming  book:

“Precariously oof loping oof, an oyster oof coating intruding nuggets of conscience, oof the Monkey King scuffed, rippled, scraped, scratched his rough chest and crown; under arched eyebrows of dust, oof to bring order his kingdom in a cave. Why vacillate so much between resentment and hatred?

Sure, Sister-Monkey hid his stash of armor for 20 years with one of the Sea Kings. Oof-oof-oof. Okay, so she selfishly and arrogantly prevented him from invading a neighbouring mountain. He deserved pearls of respect not this goading reminder. He should demote her to cave janitor.
Oof-oof-ooooooful
Through Monkey ’s slow combustion, the haze of memory emerged: an intruder threatened their kingdom, Mountain Garden of the Waterfall Cave. His habit of feeding the shark of disdain with bloody morsels, meant he didn’t bother his sister with news of the incoming invasion. She suffered owwwf gross injuries.

Beneath his fingernails, blood burst forth where he dug the hardest owwwwwh….
Upsetting his teacup, he stretched his occasionally 6-foot forearm to pluck his mobile phone from its reclining spot by the chopping board. Dialing, he realized he needed her was sucked by an undertow of gratitude.

This time memory kicked his butt: when stricken with the overreach of greed, and avarice, she bowed low offered him solace of a hundred fanning female monkeys to cool his red ember brow.”

Elaine Woo (C) All rights reserved.