My poems on the radio

http://www.worldpoetryopenmic.net/uploads/5/1/8/3/5183702/wpom-2018-03-23.mp3

IMG_3234 Lozan Yamolky

 

Listen to: http://www.worldpoetryopenmic.net/ archive file of March 23, 2018
I called in and spoke then shared a poem @ 40:00 and called again and read my new poem  54:00

Listen to the show and let me know what you think of my poems 🙂

If you also like to be sharing your poems on the air for the world to hear, call them on Fridays (not this coming one Friday March 30, they are off) but they are back on Friday April 6th, 2018. Call from anywhere in the world and you can also listen live.

 

March 22, @13:00PST listen to World Poetry Café

http://www.coopradio.org/content/world-poetry-cafe-2

I am invited by kind and peaceful host Ariadne Sawyer to be on the radio so listen to world poetry café (Thursday, March 22nd, 2018) CFRO 100.5fm from Vancouver, BC Canada @ 1:00pm.

You can hear the program online LIVE from anywhere in the world. The next day, the interview will be in the archive for 6 months.

 

Send us messages if you want so we can read them on the air. Comments or questions or requests. Email me or email the host: ariadnes@uniserve.comIMG_5751

Willow Manor in Maple Ridge

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I am invited to be a guest poet at one of the nursing homes in Maple Ridge where I used to work as a Care Aide for few years. It will be nice to visit the fun bunch and share with them my poetry.

 

On Wednesday February 28th I am a guest poet in Maple Ridge showcasing my books and reciting my poems.

Beside working there and freelanced as a Senior Companion, I also was their Arabian Dancer/ entertainment gal. oh, ya. I even once made it to front page in the local papers.

I miss those fun days and it will be fun to go back again.

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https://chartwell.com/retirement-homes/chartwell-willow-retirement-community

 

My books are at VPL

Ok, it is official, my poetry books are at the Vancouver Public Library VPL
You can find it in the: Vancouver Indie Collection on the main floor or place a hold online.

My books are about freedom, spirituality & the quest for peace on earth & the travails of refugees … spread the news.

 

Please take a moment to go to the library’s website and rate my book & if you can, write a review please.


🌎   🕊

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Do You Want to See Iraq?

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Do You Want to See Iraq?

© Lozan Yamolky

Do you want to see Iraq?

Do you want to see my Iraq?

Do you want to see the Iraq  that flooded my heart
since childhood  with much of the love
that is flowing in and through me?

Do you want to see the Iraq  that made me respect the poor,
enjoy nature
and value life?

 

Iraq that made me feel love  for mountains,
hills and even skies?
That love was for ordinary, beautiful life
and a growing admiration  for genuinely caring people.

 

Do you want to see my Iraq?

 

The Iraq that made my heart  skip a beat
and never again returned  to its previous rhythm
from the moment I crossed the borders
of that land into a foreign land?

 

This foreign land welcomed me:
accepted, fed and sheltered me.

 

Do you want to see the Iraq  that put a lump in my throat?
Though I never cried enough,
the second the Turkish border guard
stamped that page on my passport
allowing me into their land;
I released my tears.

The stamp sounded much like
a loud single beat on a metal drum.

 

I recall looking through the night skies
when the plane took off,
taking me far, far away from Iraq.

 

From Istanbul heading to Canada;
I looked long and hard  hoping
to see Iraq one more time.

 

From above the clouds,
against the cold window,
I pressed my face  and prayed I could see Iraq
in the distance
– just one more time,
perhaps for the last time.

 

I never truly said goodbye.

I could not truly bid it farewell,
even though this was no vacation;
nor was it an easy  or a safe choice to make.

 

I prayed in silence  as the plane flew over Europe;
prayed that one day,
I would see  my Iraq again…
but in peace.

 

 

Who leaves a land they love too much?’
I am asked from time to time
to which I answer,
‘Who wants to run back into their home
when it’s on fire?

______________

© Lozan Yamolky
A pome from my debut poetry book: I’m No Hero
Published by: Silver Bow in 2016
To order your copy of my books, contact me.

Trouble in Paradise 

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 © Lozan Yamolky

On the bark of the mighty banyan trees,
inscriptions of a hurting native soul

send shivers down your spine.

 

Near a high-end eatery,
a homeless man lies in deep sleep,

covered with a blanket.

 

On the sidewalk of the famous Honolulu strip,
an elderly woman walks

with all her life’s possessions

in a shopping cart.

 

In the most prestigious hotel a single mother works,
barely getting by;

yet she smiles so sweetly.

 

In the most pristine, ancient forest,

tourists toss trash with little regard.

 

At a beautifully landscaped intersection

cars wait for traffic lights to turn green;

while a beggar in a wheelchair,

with his head down, holds a sign that reads:

Iraq war veteran, please help!

 

The massive, spectacular waves cannot talk;

if they could, they would tell stories

of how many took their very last breaths
seeking the thrill of just being in the waves.

 

Mountains higher than skyscrapers stand tall,
allowing only a few to reach their peaks;

others were not so fortunate.

 

Yes, even in paradise my friends,

there is trouble!
_________________________________

 © Lozan Yamolky

From debut book: I’m No Hero

By: Silver Bow Publishing 2016

Local Author Day in Maple Ridge

 

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https://www.mapleridgenews.com/entertainment/local-author-day-in-maple-ridge/

This is your official invitation to come to Maple Ridge on Saturday November 18, 2017 @ 10:00am-5:00pm. 

My name is on the list of local authors here, we will be reading from our published books so mark your calendars and come enjoy our reading.

Remember, Christmas is just around the corner and what a better gifts you can give than a book created by a local author?

I am honored to be amongst amazing and talented writers that day Black Bond Books is hosting. I hope to see as many of you next Saturday.

I am here if you have any questions.

Respectfully yours,
Lozan

Oh You Gentle Soul 

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 © Lozan Yamolky

 She is small and frail, 

but there’s a spark in her eyes. 

 

She is young and oh, so shy, 

but there’s a determination in her gaze.

 

She is short and thin, 

but you get the sense 

you are in the presence 

of a memorable girl. 

 

She is unable to speak, 

but she can hear.   

 

She understands, 

but not your spoken words.

 

She understands  your tone, 

your gesture  

and the movement of your eyes. 

 

Don’t underestimate her.

Don’t dismiss her. 

Don’t you dare think less of her

because she is small

and cannot speak or walk well.

 

She cannot speak 

but knows! 

You can feel it in your gut, 

she knows. 

 

So, tread lightly, 

speak politely, 

be genuine 

and if you can’t, 

then just keep moving. 

 

She stood up. 

You could hear a pin drop.

Everybody held their breath 

fearing she would fall. 

 

She is still standing up 

slowly… gracefully… cautiously.

 

Oh my, she’s moving in slow motion. 

 

As gentle as a butterfly  walking on your finger,

she walked on that hardwood floor. 

One small step after another 

then suddenly,

a ray of sunlight  penetrated the sunroof  exposing the dusty hardwood floor  she walked on.

It takes the breath away;  as we realized  that we are out here living on this earth 

existing as if this planet  owe us something  and nothing is good enough;  we stomp, we complain  and we are unsatisfied. 

We wipe forests, 

eradicate species, 

and factory farm animals for one reason alone.

 

We pollute our waters, 

contaminate our soil 

and even poison the air we breathe, 

while she in her pain walks 

without harming anyone 

or –anything; 

not even disturbing 

the dust beneath her feet.

 

 

© Lozan Yamolky

From debut book of poetry: I’m No Hero
 by: Silver Bow Publishing 2016

 Disclaimer: Photo from Facebook page: Evolver Social Movement

 

No More Poetry

No More Poetry

©Lozan Yamolky

She ripped and tore all her poems from her note books.

She removed all poetry books from her shelves;

tossed them all with the scattered torn up papers
into a barrel; lit a match to it all.

She vowed to never write another poem as long as she lived.

She watched the poems as they were consumed by the fire;

turned her back to the burning inferno,
and walked away slowly.
From the bellowing smoke,
a figure in the shape of a poem appeared.
It looked as if it almost touched the ground by the barrel,
and just stood there;
then turned around and looked at her.

She turned to look at the burning poems,

saw the figure then slowly walked towards it in disbelief.
The poem bowed its head in sorrow
and begun to speak.
She listened as the figure,
the living poem spoke to her.

“You need me!

You cannot live without me!

What are you going to do?

When your heart breaks?

When you lose someone you love?
When you see innocent people suffer?
When you see injustice in this world?
When you fall desperately, hopelessly in love?
When you hold the tiniest newborn in your arms?
When you are in such pain no one can understand?

When you witness the unspeakable, heartless cruelty man is capable of?

When you hold the lifeless hand of someone whose spirit just crossed to the other side?

Tell me, what are you going to do without me?

You need me!” the poem said.

They both sat on the ground,

watched the fire burn…
and they both cried.

 

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