Tag Archives: Robert W. McGregor

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.