Abigail George

Abigail George studied film and television production for a short while, which was followed by a brief stint as a trainee at a production house. She is a writer and poet. She has lived in Johannesburg and Port Elizabeth but she is currently living in Port Elizabeth. She has had poetry published in print and online. She has had short fiction published online. In 2005 and 2008 she was awarded grants from the National Arts Council in Johannesburg. She is not purely devoted to poetry but to pursuing writing fulltime. Storytelling for her has always been a phenomenal way of communicating and making a connection with other people.


		next
	The Writing Mill by Abigail George By using my powers of observation as a child; that’s how the English language, verse, the rhythm and internal rhyme of words came to me, came at me from the symmetry of my gut. Growing up the eldest of three children, my father drilled
	Premonitions of angels by Abigail George Just keeping onFlecked with dizzying introspection, difficult, monstrous yet inspiring new things that bring you joy; wise, prizewinning and valuable old things, infinite and soulful things, alien flighty thin
	At the heart of it all by Abigail George Writing is a fragile gift. You are either born to it, taught to do it, led kicking and screaming to it, become members of creative writing groups and visit writing workshops. It is not something to be tampered with. It is a holy, wholesome, awesom

	Memory work - An excerpt from a memoir by Abigail George We have a mother who can talk in strange tongues. She gets up to read the gospel at one o’ clock in the morning. She sets her alarm clock to go off. I am still awake reading a well-thumbed novel. Andrea Ashworth’s memoir Once in a hous
	Mental illness: My bipolar experience by Abigail George Madness is one craving the genius, the savant, the gifted cannot go without. Oh, how it comes with the territory and there isn’t anything you can do about it. As the words, musings stream onto the page, drowning out all prejudice and common
	Drowned girl by Abigail George I was drowning figuratively at the beach; a towel wrapped around me watching my siblings in the waves, in the seawater, the tang of salt in the black cave of my mouth. I was drowning in my lucid dreams, at school with my scuffed shoes, walking
	Word by word: The utopia of a female writer by Abigail George Male writers will have their own utopias as will female writers. We do not write; create, from the same pool of thought or work at the same lessons in the same old traditions following the mould, the instruction gathered since infancy. As the lett
	A million tiny pieces by Abigail George God is so far away from our lives these days. We are living in a material world. Money, status, power makes the world go round; it drives men and women leaving their children vulnerable. It leaves them frustrated and vulnerable as well. People
	Coloureds in white masks by Abigail George The power and the background of the thoughts of the coloured are an experiment in the making. The source of everything that is half-formed and oppressive in their belief system comes from their childhood, accidents, medical and personal trauma.
	Ritual by Abigail George Michael’s ghost comes to me with the weight of water – I drinkIn the lines of his face, blur the edges; bottle them up in memory for aKeepsake of a perfect solidarity, stitch the laughter, the inner battle studies,The bitt
		next