Tag Archives: International Peace Award Ariadne Sawyer

World Poetry Celebrates Robert W. McGregor from Canada!

The World Poetry Café Radio Show welcomed the talented poet Robert W. McGregor on the air in a unique interview full of good poetry and music. Robert read his poem: I’m Just A Little Boy’ about a little boy from Aleepo , Syria which received many favorable responses when it was read as an e-poem a few weeks before. He read a number of exceptional poems and talked about his life and vision.

To hear this great show! CLICK HERE!

Since it was fundraising time for our show, Robert also became a member and helped pitch on the air. We need $1,000 per year to keep our show on the air. We are all volunteers and the World Poetry Café will be celebrating its 21st year. If anyone wants to become a member or at an international level , become a donner, you can go to www. coopradio .org and click on membership. Please put in the name of the World Poetry Café so the money will go to our account.

 Also featured on the show, great  e-poets from India and Nigeria: 

Dr. Reshma Ramesh is a dental surgeon by profession and has been writing poetry since 2008 and is a noted voice in  Bangalore. Her beautiful poem The Mountains Have a Memory captures the essence of mountains.

The second e-poem  APEKE XII on love comes from: Timileyin Gabriel Olajuwon. He is a international multi award winner, World  Poetry Ambassador to Nigeria and a director with a new book coming out.

The dedicated World Poetry Café Team: Ariadne Sawyer, Producer and host, co-host Anita Aguirre Nieveras, Super Tech Victor Schwartzman and special volunteer Sharon Rowe with dog, Willow.

 

Robert writes:

“If possible I prefer to be introduced as Robert W. McGregor as there are too many notable Rob McGregor’s…

I am proud of my given names, Robert after my grand father, and great grand father the W. Stands for Ward which my blessed  mother picked while watching it’s a wonderful life. ( late actor Ward Bond).

I am happily married for 9 years to my wife Laurie who is vey supportive of my writing efforts,  I have two natural and four step children and will soon celebrate the birth of my 9th grand child.

Born and raised in South Vancouver, graduated from David Thompson Secondary.

I have been writing poetry since grade 4 but other then special occasions like anniversaries, weddings or tributes at funerals my poems have been for my private consumption.

A chance meeting with writer friend/ Neall Ryon has opened up my eyes to the world of poetry and created a desire to share it with the rest of the world.

I am currently working on my first book with the working title “Looking Through the Kaleidoscope” , The  Mended Broken Thoughts and writings of Robert W. McGregor

My favourite writers and influences are Lord Alfred Tennyson, Mark Twain, and  Og Mandino.

As for poems, since this a broadcast that goes to other countries it would be a privilege to recite the attached poem:

” I’m Just A Little Boy’, which was written by me after seeing the very tragic picture of a the little boy from Aleppo Syria sitting in the back of an ambulance.

The picture haunted me for days until I awoke one night at around 3 am and wrote this poem.


 I’m Just A Little Boy

(Dedicated to all of the children in Aleppo Syria)

Why do you drop your booms?

I’m just a little boy,

Where is my Ummi and Abbi ?

Can someone please find my toy?

It’s a little red car with a missing wheel,

That was a gift from my older brother,

I want it now to think of him,

Have you found my Father and Mother?

Perhaps they are with my brother and sister,

Who I no longer see around,

I saw them last laughing and playing in the yard,

Just before I heard the very loud sound.

It happens almost everyday,,

It seems no one can tell me why,

I ask you now maybe you know,

Why are these booms falling from the sky

I can not feel my face right now, I can not see too far,

It’s hard to hear you from the ringing,

Did someone finally find my car?

Please look real hard for it,

As it helps me sleep at night,

I promise not to lose it again ,

I promise to hold it really really tight.

If you see my Ummi and Abbi ,

please don’t tell them I dropped it on the floor,

I don’t want them to worry about it,

Please just one more look and I won’t ask you anymore?

Really where did you find it?

You say you found it in my Ummi’s hand?

Can you please bring her here so I can hug her,

No I will run to her ,help me up so I can stand.

What do you mean she is gone?

Why would she leave me here all alone?

Where could she possibly go?

This is our only home.

I understand now she is with the others,

No real need for me to feel gloom,

Perhaps I can join them next time,

When the sky drops another boom.

Robert W. McGregor, August /2016. All rights Reserved by the author. (C)

 

 

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.