Abigail George

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Born
in Port Elizabeth, South Africa
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Influences
Rilke, Goethe, Hemingway, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Sylvia Plath, Virgin ...more

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August 2012

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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 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.

Abigail George was born in the Eastern Cape and raised in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. She was schooled there, in Swaziland and Johannesburg. Both her parents were educationalists.

She received writing grants from the National Arts Council in Gauteng for poetry and manuscript development, a grant from the Centre for the book in Cape Town for poetry and a grant from ECPACC in East London for a
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Abigail George Yes my book will be on Amazon. I'll tell you most definitely when it will be released. Thank you for saying that you will check it out Pat. It is on…moreYes my book will be on Amazon. I'll tell you most definitely when it will be released. Thank you for saying that you will check it out Pat. It is on African Books Collective. You can check the cover out there if you like. I'm sending you a link. Can't believe I am only replying to this message now. I am so sorry. I made a mental note of replying to you as soon as I saw this six days ago! Well, you know about the pencil test already. They (the authorities of the day) put a pencil in your hair and if it stayed there you were classified as non-white. Your questions bring up memories of me being a child in a racist and an unjust society. So if your hair was straight, you had light-colored eyes (blue or green), and so on you could also be classified as European even if you were of mixed race descent. Come to think of it I've never really heard people of today talking about this. And I've never read about it either in a novel or a newspaper article. I had to also had to think really hard how I was going to put this because it is a sensitive subject for a lot of people. My father studied in at London University in the UK and he went to this British barber. A White barber. The barber tried a few times to cut his hair and then he wet my dad's hair and it was disastrous. At the end of all of this he just told my dad he couldn't cut his hair. Pat, I hope that answers your question. Ask away. If there's anything I don't know, I'll ask my dad for you. Abigail

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Abigail George My dad says "peppercorns". That was his reality. Hope I was able to help. Sorry I am only coming back to you now. Only saw this message this morning.…moreMy dad says "peppercorns". That was his reality. Hope I was able to help. Sorry I am only coming back to you now. Only saw this message this morning. I hope your writing is going well too. I have a book coming out later this month. It's called "The Scholarship Girl". It's basically life writing or just me writing about life, my life. African Books Collective is the distributor of the book.(less)
Average rating: 4.56 · 18 ratings · 7 reviews · 8 distinct works
Africa Where Art Thou?

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it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 5 ratings — published 2011 — 2 editions
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Winter in Johannesburg

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4.25 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 2013 — 2 editions
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Feeding The Beasts

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4.67 avg rating — 3 ratings — published 2012 — 2 editions
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All About My Mother

really liked it 4.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 2012
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Brother Wolf and Sister Wren

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2015
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Sleeping Under Kitchen Tabl...

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2015 — 2 editions
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FIVE Vol. 03 No. 03

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My Africa, My City

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really liked it 4.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 2016
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More books by Abigail George…
I've outlasted a lot of things. I'm over 35. I am nearing 40 years of age. I've made mistakes and lived with regret but I don't anymore. And I'm finally able to make peace with the mistakes I've made in my past. I can forgive someone who brought me pain. The suicidal thoughts that I've manages to overcome. I think of our happy my parents were in my childhood. I think of every childhood experien... Read more of this blog post »
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Published on July 26, 2018 04:37 • 190 views

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I'm writing to reach you within the revolution of a ballad of the illuminations within turning points (Literature & Fiction)
1 chapters   —   updated Jul 01, 2013 06:54PM
Description: The turning points in our lives make us aware of our own survival instincts. What do poems make us aware of then? Our own immortality. We're all rivals at some point in our lives. We all compete with each other until the day we mourn the days we lost listening to our souls and the feeling lost and numb only comes down to this. Not having a profound and serious respect for humankind.
Now I fear no criticism or pain (Literature & Fiction)
1 chapters   —   updated Jul 01, 2013 06:42PM
Description: Winter is the most perfect time to rest. There's a lightness and a being in the air. Now there are only time for 'botanical drawings of observations', a palace, throne room, metaphors, and for growing older, the illustration of a dark horse of a man growing dimmer and dimmer.
You're my inheritance and editor (Literature & Fiction)
1 chapters   —   updated Jul 01, 2013 06:26PM
Description: Childhood transformations have come and gone taking bedtime stories, Disney and chipped teeth with them.
Talk to me about the kids (especially about the kids who don't believe they're pharoahs and queens) (Literature & Fiction)
1 chapters   —   updated Jul 01, 2013 05:56PM
Description: Family history, imagination, the wilderness. When the world feels apocalyptic. When your mind's eye sits through silences. The day your parents told you they were either going to separate or divorce and you felt like an interloper. I was the chosen one in summer, spring, winter and autumn.
I miss you everday (I miss you more than the stars) beloved aunt, mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, 'second mother' (Poetry)
1 chapters   —   updated Jul 01, 2013 05:39PM
Description: 'The sun and days compensate for the lack of you.Now we talk about love as if it is a mountain. We want to hike to the stars and forget about our hearts and what startled us into believing that we cannot live forever. Love is not love when it alteration finds. Shakespeare said that.'
More of Abigail’s writing…
The Music School
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The New Strong-Wi...
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The Last Runaway
Abigail is currently reading
by Tracy Chevalier (Goodreads Author)
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"“the only thing that can truly change at midnight is your thinking.”"
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Sowing Seeds of Love by Ursula Candasamy
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Flame in the Snow by André Brink
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“Yes, I know that now that there is truth in beauty and beauty in truth. My nature is to be depressive and come out of it and write, and enjoy writing and feeling as if I have a passion and excitement and love and euphoria for it and then I go 'back to sleep again' where I can eat and watch television and not work, not be productive and then just as if a magic switch is turned on I can do it all over again. I don't mind the being depressed part. Sometimes it seems to fuel me. The anger though is gone now that was there in my twenties and even earlier in my youth. Your voice is Tolstoy’s, Hemingway’s, Updike’s, Styron’s, Mcewan’s, Greene’s, Fugard’s, Kundera’s, Rilke’s while I am the incarnate of Radcliffe Hall crossing both genders effortlessly. You betray nothing. There is son in the picture. A small boy but you don’t introduce him to me. Obsessions are unhealthy creatures. They make you mentally ill, emotionally unstable; leave you with a chemistry of deep sadness in your life. I have my writing. It keeps me from disintegrating into fractions. I should stop now before I begin to make myself cry.”
Abigail George, Winter in Johannesburg

“Nice people sometimes finish last but they are always the winners who take it all in the end.”
Abigail George

“Woman lost (skin deep) like a damn fine thread in the fire
Woman of the world caught up in your black machinations
I was a woman who cried alone at night, who gave it all
away when she saw the good heart of the man inside
Woman caught standing up; her open parts are broken -

Someone's armour broke right through, it was you, you
For some reason I've been thinking about you, your light
Today, you poured out all the tension, the ego underground
Hibernating inside my heart. I was so close to it, to the flicker
Of love in a lonely street and I turned my head and walked

Away from the flame in your arms. As I put away the fun in
A house of fight I came across you and a mechanism in
My brain shifted chemically, walls caved in like the cadence
In your words and I was lost in the darkness. Even now in
Middle age I remember when desire was a popular drug

And everyone was selling it but I don't live to explore to be
Able to illuminate the proof of my existence, live to burn
Vicariously though the diamond mouth of sleeping stars.
From so much love, pictures of death arrived in black and
White photographs and you're perfect, you always were -

Illusions have no flaws; they're dangerous beings, smoke.
Could I take the moon back and still live with my great
Expectations of nostalgia, laughter, tears and suffering -
But they are all a part of me not the people of the stars,
Long dead videotape, the past has stained the symphony

Of my soul (like the wind through the trees) throughout
Me finding myself, my two left feet as a female poet
The warning was there of the noise of eternity, signs
That said, don't anger the sea, you have an ally in her.
When men grow cold listen to their stories and bask in

The glory of their genuine deaths, their winters, put
Them away so you can read them like the newspaper.
Once in a while you can go back to where you stood
In youth with your afternoon tea, the sun of God in our
Eyes - I am that kind of woman who lives in the past”
Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you wont give up. If you give up, you're not worthy. ... Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.”
Bob Marley, Guitar Chord Songbook - Bob Marley

“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
Bob Marley

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.”
Plato

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”
Leonardo da Vinci

“If you're reading this...
Congratulations, you're alive.
If that's not something to smile about,
then I don't know what is.”
Chad Sugg, Monsters Under Your Head

233 ¡ POETRY ! — 21318 members — last activity 1 hour, 42 min ago
No pretensions: just poetry. Stop by, recommend books, offer up poems (excerpted), tempt us, taunt us, tell us what to read and where to go (to read i ...more



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Abigail Beth wrote: "Abigail, your comments are a delight to me. I found you through a class on African Literature. An assignment was to write a mock interview with an author from our readings, and I wrote about you. T..."
I always think of writing as a solitary activity but also an emotional one. I would love to read your mock-interview that you did on me. I think it's fine that you had to take liberties. I thought when I first came into the social media world that every one loves poetry and could connect with it. (Btw, congratulations on your books being published.) Thank you for writing back to me. I am including a link to two of my short stories in this comment as well. I hope we will be able to continue writing to each other. I hope you won't find it with any problems. You see because I like to write in the medium of short stories as well. Everything's a catalyst for me. (I was very happy when I read that you found me through a class on African Literature and was thinking to myself how does something like that happen.) Your words have really meant so much to me. Because in one way I also write to survive. Keep writing and sharing your gifts with the world.

http://www.ovimagazine.com/art/9874
http://www.ovimagazine.com/art/9863


message 1: by Beth

Beth Burnett Abigail, your comments are a delight to me. I found you through a class on African Literature. An assignment was to write a mock interview with an author from our readings, and I wrote about you. There wasn't a ton of information, so I had to take some liberties. I do love your poetry, which is saying a lot because I definitely prefer prose. :)


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