Poetry Recital Aug. 9 @6pm

Hello 🙂
On Thursday August 9th from 6-8pm at Guildford Library in the Fireplace lounge there is a poetry recital event hosted by Surrey Writers and our host is Alan Woo. I am one of the poets on Open Mic. It would please me to see you there. Come and enjoy poetry at:

Guildford Library 
15105 105th Avenue, Surrey, BC, Canada V3R 7G8
T 604.598.7371 | www.surreylibraries.ca

https://surreylibraries.ca/events/open-mic-night?eventdate=Thu

 

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Poetry In The Park photos :)

Photos by Janet Kvammen
I was honored to be feature poet at Poetry In The Park on Wednesday July 4, 2018 in New Westminster, BC in Queens Park.
All summer long, every Wednesday, go to Queens Park 6:30-8:30pm at the bandshell and enjoy poetry & open mic

 

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Feature Poet on Wed. Apr. 11, 2018

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I am a feature poet on Wednesday, April 11, 2018 – 6:30pm to 8:30pm at the Rippling Sonnets: Open Mic Poetry Reading in North Vancouver, BC Canada. 

RIPPLING SONNETS is an evening of open mic poetry reading. Hosted by Una Bruhns and Deborah L. Kelly. Drop ins welcome.

Location: Lynn Valley branch, North Vancouver District Public Library.

Address: 1277 Lynn Valley Rd, North Vancouver, BC V7J 0A2

More information at nvdpl.ca.

http://www.nvdpl.ca/event/rippling-sonnets-open-mic-poetry-reading-0

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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.

 

A poem for my Momma

Heads up: Have a tissue nearby! 

Lozan - Poem for her Mom - Shafika (1)

Shafika* 

~©Lozan Yamolky

 

 

She was always busy her work was never done; 

I’ve seen her go so fast yet I’ve never seen her run. 

 

 

The list of her daily duties were tedious and endless; 

even with disability she was anything but careless. 

 

 

She endured his abuse and never rolled that dice, 

she brushed it off as she searched our heads for lice. 

 

 

She didn’t repeat ‘I love you’ much there was no time for that; 

caring for us was what her love was all about. 

 

 

We tried to follow the rules, breaking them, we didn’t dare; 

whenever we were threatened, she turned into our mama bear. 

 

 

All that ‘when you have your own children you will understand’, 

I wish I knew what it meant, oh wouldn’t that be grand? 

 

 

I appreciate what she has done fold over folds now;

when I try to do some of what she has done, I say ‘holy cow’! 

 

 

I am a good mama because I learned from the best; 

I hope no one is keeping scores, I hope this is not a test. 

 

 

Let the entire world hear me, let them all know, 

the love in me she planted continues to grow. 

 

 

I love my mama until the day I die

I sure hope my poem won’t make her cry. 

 

——— ~©Lozan Yamolky

*The meaning of her Arabic name Shafika is: compassionate, tender, the one that eases the pain

This poem was published on the online Royal City Literary Art Society eZine May 2017 issue. https://issuu.com/rclas/docs/may_2017_rclas_ezine_issue45  See link.

Graphics are done by our wonderful, talented and beautiful Janet Kvammen 🙂

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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Your Life’s Journey

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Your Life’s Journey

© Lozan Yamolky

 

 

Unless the city sidewalk has 

even once, been your bed,

try not to condemn the homeless.

 

Unless you lived countless days

and countless nights

sad beyond words,

try not to pass judgment on those battling depression.

 

Unless you have been betrayed

by a person you trusted,

try not to be too quick to criticize
those who have difficulty trusting.

 

Unless you have felt

the deep anguish

of a woman terminating her pregnancy,

try not to hatefully question

a woman’s right to choose.

 

Unless you have been displaced

in search of a new life, in a foreign land,

try not to scorn a refugee.

 

Unless you have been ill

where you find it difficult

to care for yourself,

try not to judge those living in unkempt homes.

 

If you have never had to choose

between dressing well;

feeding your hungry stomach;

buying your medication;
pay your utility bills;

or keep a roof over your head,

try not to be condescending

to those who look less groomed than you.

 

My heart aches seeking freedom.

My spirit loves living life. 

My crying voice sings beautiful songs.

My arms spread wide, seeking peace.

 

Reach out for me,
I am everywhere.

 

I am the needy

you just passed by.

 

I am the one

you just avoided making

eye contact with.

 

Who I am and where I am right now

is all a part

—of your life’s journey.

 

© Lozan Yamolky
from debut book: I’m No Hero
by: Silver Bow Publishing 2016