‘Turn the page, Lawrence, and you will find lessons learned from the mistakes you’ve made. We’re all fragile. It’s what makes us human.’ Patricia shivered...
Author - Abigail George
Abigail George studied film and television production for a short while, followed by a brief stint as a trainee at a production house. She is a Christian feminist, writer and poet. She lives in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. 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 full time. Storytelling for her has always been a phenomenal way of communicating and making a connection with other people. She writes for Modern Diplomacy and contributed bimonthly to a symposium on Ovi Magazine: Finland’s English Online Magazine. Her latest book Winter in Johannesburg is available on Kindle via Amazon.
PHOTOGRAPHS (For my mother and my father) I pretend I do not love this city but I do. I pretend that I feel nothing for the women, men and children who rise...
NO LONGER CHILD (For my mother and father) Her picture was in the paper again. The broken pottery of her soul staring back at her from the page. Writers are in...
THE INFERTILITY POEM (OR THE SAD WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH) My cousin has two small children (brilliant, bold, brave daughters). While I have none. Only the...
MUST TRAVEL (For my sister) The day has a mothlike quality to it. I make a cup of tea (always for one). Boil the water in the microwave oven while old poems...
VERTIGO I’m glad I never gave up On my mother. Even though There were times that I...
WRITTEN ON THE BODY OF JUDSON JEROME In autumn leaves will be wrapped in water and rot. I lay in between the sheets. With my head from Whitman to Rilke. Coming...
OPENING PANDORA’S BOX IN YOUR THIRTIES There’s a loss to the windswept day. The waves beautiful but I do not want to go into the water...
She had never met anyone called Siegfried before. Wondered what he was like when he was a boy being called on in class. Was he teased, mocked, bullied on the...
NIGHT AND DAY (For my mother and my father) There is love here. A kind Of resurrecting. A life instinct Drowning in the gaseous life Experience of the mother...
Mishka Hoosen is young. She is intelligent. She is brave and she is brilliant. She is also very clever, funny and wise beyond her years. Her style is flesh...
Bloodwork is familiar. Like the stream flowing into the river blood flows through veins, arteries, platelets, and walls. Carol stepped outside. It was times...
