Poetry

Recently in a local bookstore, I opened a copy of Jack London’s collected stories. Glancing down the list of titles, I smiled in recognition of familiar readings from my boyhood. Coming upon the title The Sea Wolf I stopped, as memories of my Father and the arrogance of my youth came into my mind. Turning to chapter 24 in this particular story, I looked for that special word. My eyes went up and down the pages where ...

Dear patriotic spirit and Mother of the people Many children emigrated from you with deep regrets To their new lands, languages and hope No matter distance; it`s Mother no child ever forgets. With song you nourish your peoples soul As when you sang at Ilinden That day the Narod rose up to say We are not Bulgars, Greek or Serb, we are Macedonian Mother Macedonia sweet singer of song Please sing us a song for today ...

Every time I pass Niagara Street in Toronto’s west end a story my Father told me comes to mind. My Grandfather Tanas Radeff with some fellow villagers from Ohschima had come to Canada from Macedonia in1898 looking for work. They had not come to stay but to sojourn for a few years then to return, hoping to buy a farm or build a bigger house with what money they saved. When my Grandfather returned to Macedonia at the ...

Oh! Brother poet Eloquent and gifted Macedonian You are dead, And from the grave no one is able to speak. Yet! You speak, your words come alive Whenever your poems are spoken Wherever your poems are read Here in this land, far away from Macedonia I have read what you have written. Oh, Soldier poet, when you died in the war I was a child nine years of age I would be unable to understand your sad poem “What are these ...

Macedonians of today are proud of their heritage Especially the role of women in keeping language alive During a violent century, it was the Macedonian speaking home That held together the Macedonians as a distinct people Who held the people together? She who was the preserver of the Macedonian language The teacher is honoured by the child`s first word “Majka” Words to infants are seeds planted, which grow to become ...

Sunday mornings at the Cathedral of Saint Clement Ohrid The congregation gathers in the Church sanctuary There, traditional Byzantine frescoes on the ceiling and walls Depict the Birth, Life, Death and Resurrection of our Lord Jesus In whose memory the communion service is celebrated. Stand at the back, unobtrusively taking in the whole scene Inhale the wafting scent of incense and melting candles Observe the ...

Not far from here at the corner of Wellesley and Bay
Was a restaurant known as The Falcon.
You may have seen it before? The small sign above the door?
Right next to the old place called Sutton...

My Macedonian grandfather with the donkey filled with groceries From the market comes towards our house. Our house is located across the police station In the city of Florina-Lerin, which is a tiny city. The backyard of our home faces the magnificent mountain And the front-yard of our home faces the river that flows calmly. From afar when I see the grandfather I leave the games, and the boys To get for my ...

She belonged to a middle class She had a husband and six children. Her husband as always was in the Macedonian villages of Florina-Lerin. He was working there, painting. She was home in bed sick She had a high fever and a pain in the stomach. And that day, as always, the door opened with a kick The Greek policemen entered, and they were staring them with hate. Her children, as every morning, were praying to the Lord ...

In the Macedonian villages of Aegean heartbreaking cries were reechoing. The Greek rebels from the mother's warm lap were grabbing the child. Innocent angels helpless with frightened souls We're asking each other "What will happen to us?" Without shoes, without food Frozen without their mother's tenderness Mountains, ravines explored without pause Mountains, ravines were leaving behind without a return. The ...