Abigail George

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Abigail George is an award-winning short story writer, author, essayist, playwright, screenwriter and an award-winning poet. She is a Pushcart Prize, two-time Best of the Net nominated, Sol Plaatje European Union Poetry Prize longlisted, Writing Ukraine Prize shortlisted, Identity Theory's Editor's Choice, Ink Sweat Tears Pick of the Month poet/writer. In 2021, her writing was recognised by Afrocritik among the 20 Remarkable African Essays. In 2023, she was the winner of the Sol Plaatje European Union Poetry Award. In 2023, she was shortlisted for the Writing Ukraine Prize; in 2024, her poem, “Rebirth” received an Honourable Mention in the New Coin Poetry Prize, and in 2025, she was shortlisted for the Erbacce Prize. In 2025, she was longlisted for the Erbacce Prize and her poems were selected for the Erbacce Journal. She is a two-time recipient of grants from the National Arts Council in Johannesburg, one from the Centre of the Book in Cape Town and another from ECPACC in KuGompo City. She won a national high school writing competition in her teens. She was interviewed by BBC Radio 4, for AOL.com, the USA Today Network, The Tennessean, and Radio Ikrikya in Algeria. Her writing has appeared in Agbowo, Botsotso, Critical Muslim, Jalada, Kalahari Review, LitNet, Ons Klyntji, Piker Press, The Eastern Province Herald, The Ovi, and others. She was educated in Port Elizabeth and Swaziland. She is the Contributing Editor for African Writer Magazine based in New Jersey, and an editor at Mwanaka Media and Publishing situated in Zimbabwe. Her latest book is "Did You Get Married to Her When I was in the Mental Hospital". Find it on Amazon and at the ZamaShort shop. Find her on Bluesky, LinkedIn, Substack, and Instagram @abigailgeorgepoet.

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The glory years: Aspects of the poet Emily Dickinson/ Stranger danger

Emily Dickinson enters the kitchen at the homestead in a happy mood. She hums under her breath, and lights the candles for the evening....

Signs of loneliness: The childhood of a poet

I am just burnt out from life, I guess. If I could smoke my life away, believe me I would. If I could drink...

Winter Revisited

The argument was about nothing really. I really cannot remember who started it first. It was between a girl, barely out of adolescence and...

Twelve Monkeys

I’ve made mistakes. More than a few. I haven’t always apologised for my behaviour, for the mistakes I made, the wrong journey I took,...

Tongue of grief

Sleep. I don’t sleep anymore at night. I don’t sleep very well, or, not at all. You only see what you want to see....

Childhood and Magda

I haven’t got time for the pain. When I’m through with you, I will still hope.There’s an ocean meeting invincible ocean pouring into eyes,you...

The woman who ate everything

I have no children of my own. In reality, I exist. In non-reality, I am non-existent. I am more demon, than angel now that...

And the problems of the Coloured people (of South Africa) were of no interest to them

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The life I have lived is more the climate of Hollywood than the establishment of New York. More Zelda Fitzgerald than Rebecca Miller. People...

The relationship between mother and gifted child

Vertigo inside of me. Burnt oats. Mother burnt the oats again. The bottom of the pot burnt. The oats tasted like ash, smelled like...

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