I consider myself fortunate in having had a happy childhood. I lived and grew up in the Regent Park area of Cabbagetown in the City of Toronto. In the 1940`s this area was heavily populated with immigrant Macedonian families. They liked to live in close proximity to St. Georges Macedonian Church located on the corner of Regent Street and Sutton Avenue. My Father was an immigrant from the village of Oshchima in ...

From our origin in the garden of Eden man has a close relationship with trees. In contemplation of our group of writers The Brothers Miladinov Macedonian Poetry Society it occurred to me that we are very much like a tree, a tree of Literature Like a tree we have four parts, roots, trunk, branches and leaves. Also as an expression of life we produce fruit ( our writings) As to our genus we are of the Macedonian Oak ...

Canada you are indeed a land and nation of immigrants Many people heard you call and they came. Macedonians left their beloved homeland Your hopes and opportunities to claim. You invited them; come Aegean, come Pirin, come Vardar Come you resilient and strong peoples. Leave Macedonia, as children will someday leave the home. Come have families, build homes, build businesses, build churches with their steeples. You ...

Dear Macedonia, land of mountains Land of villages You have known wars, occupations Bitter Church struggles and cultural pillages. Motherland of my Father And his Fathers before him By inheritance you are my Grandmother And in spirit we are kin. Though my eyes have never seen you Or my feet walked throughout your land I make this promise Baba Makedonija One day on your soil I will stand. My Father emigrated at ...

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 ...

ODE; Literally, is a song, marked by exaltation of feeling, style, varying lengths of line and complexity of stanza form. Prologue I personify Macedonia as having a Body, Soul and Spirit Chorus The word Macedonia, when written is as a magnet to my eyes, drawing interest to the context in which it is written. The word Macedonia spoken is as music to my ears. It is as familiar as my own name. SONG OF THE BODY The body ...

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...

Aspassia Bossota-Patsy Sider was born in the city of Florina-Lerin on April 10th of 1943, the fifth child of the six children of Avraam and Konstantina Bossota (five daughters and a son.) Her education was Grade Twelve. ln 1962 her and her family, for political reasons, they decided to immigrate to Canada. In Canada, she met Angelo Sider-Evangelos Sideropoulos from Florina- Lerin, and they got married in 1964. The ...

My memory goes back To those years that I had no speech. I loved the Macedonian songs. The unmerciful Greeks forbade our culture. Why, why, they took away The customs which belonged to us? Why, why, they took away The language and the scripts which belonged to us? Discrimination is a mortal disease. It poison's the mind and the soul. We search for human rights We obey the Holy Word. Rise, O, Macedonian children To ...

This poem is dedicated in loving memory of Danny Stoitsevski- Hatzystoitse (Hafzyioannou) An unforgettable Hero, from Florina-Lerin DANNY STOITSEVSKY (1925-1988) Patsy Sider-Aspassia Bossota In Florina-Lerin the terminally ill widow mother of Danny Stoitsevski Breathless was calling Danny, her son. Her last wish was this. Danny, her son, she wanted to see him, for the last time. Danny, previously, was resident of ...