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sue
whitmore poet & artist

poet & artist

Sue Whitmore, a much published and exhibited  poet and artist, is not a 'sock drawer' poet. She enjoys performing her work and convenes ’The Brondesbury Group’ of poets in NW London, a Stanza of the Poetry Society, established 21 years ago. 

Her latest collections of poems, drawings and prints, ‘Blood, Fish and Bone’ were published in 2017. Her work has been published in many poetry journals.

Widely exhibited in the UK and abroad, her work is in private collections. She designed for the theatre in London and Edinburgh and taught landscape painting in Spain for many years. She had a sell-out edition of etchings in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition and is a member of Greenwich Printmakers.

About
PUBLICATIONS

'Sue, Realist'

- a selection of Poems & Drawings - 1992'

'Fishbones'

- more poems and drawings 2016  (£7 + £2 p&p) 

'Blood, Fish & Bones I' 

poems, drawings & prints 2017

 

'Blood, Fish & Bones II'

- poems drawings & prints 2017

'Blood, fish   & Bone' -   books i & ii

Sue, Realist: A Selection of Poems & Drawings

Blood, Fish & Bone

Book I

Blood, Fish & Bone

Book II

Sue's pamphlet 'Human Interest' was Highly Commended in the Indigo Dreams Geoff Stevens Memorial Prize Competition 2017
My Books
Press


Exhibition 'the bloc'
& post lockdown
book relaunch

with Broadcaster Zeb Soanes*
& members of the Brondesbury group

April 2022

At gallery worldly, wicked & Wise, queen's Park,nw6

 

  * Noël Coward Bronze — Zeb Soanes

    http://www.zebsoanes.com › coward



Queen's Park Voices 

at Queen's Park Book Festival

2:00pm, Saturday 17th September 2022  

Queen's Park Community Tent

Local poets and authors Mara Nkere, Simon Fellowes, Eamon Somers and
Sue Whitmore* discuss their work and read pieces written especially for the book festival, hosted by the Queen of Queen’s Park, actor and poet Chrys Salt MBE.

https://queensparkbookfestival.co.uk/events/queens-park-voices/

*Sue expresses the human experience through poetry and art. She convenes The Brondesbury Group, a Stanza of the Poetry Society celebrating its 21st birthday. A widely exhibited artist, including the RA Summer Exhibition, her multiple lives include theatre design, teaching landscape painting in the Spanish mountains and life drawing at the Tricycle (Kiln). She was made a Champion of Culture by ‘Art in Business’ for her contribution to art in Brent and is co-Chair of Greenwich Printmakers.

See: 'On Addressing the Wrong God' by Sue Whitmore read by David Vickery on YourPoemaDay  www.youtube.com

Dear Human Race,

 

I made you in my image and tried to save your souls,

now the glaciers are melting - the permafrost, the poles.

I’m writing just to let you know I’ve really had enough,

you’re careless of your planet, you’re selfish, stupid, rough.

 

I sent you fire and locusts, then I sent you plague and flood -

haven’t you got the message yet?

 

Yours sincerely,

 

God

 

Dear God,

To us you’re just a paradox who always gets things wrong,

the suffering, the needless pain - you seem more weak than strong.

And what about our species? ‘In your image?’ - what a mess!

                Though we build cathedrals, temples, mosques, fast, repent, confess

still you send us war and viruses, even sacrificed your son.

Pascal tried to hedge his bets, it really can’t be done.

 

We’re on our own it’s clear to us, don’t try to show your face,

and please, no more epistles, we’re not yours,

 

The Human Race.

 

Dear Human Race

This is where I let you know how much you get things wrong,

those pompous, slipshod scriptural  gods have not  been  round that long.

 

But I came from the universe, I came here from the sun,

I threw the moon into the sky, evolved things just for fun

 

I’ve watched you trash my garden, my seas, my air, my zoo -

with one more little virus I will trash the lot of you,

 

Gaia

Bumping into Thursday

- inspired by Lockdown May 2020

 

Monday lost in thought

kept Tuesday waiting

while Wednesday wandered off

and bumped into Thursday

and though Friday seized the day

Saturday wasted it with that old fool Sunday

and Monday overslept

and mistook Tuesday for Wednesday

who was about to save the day

when it bumped into Thursday

then somehow Friday

lost Saturday and Sunday

and no-one saw Monday fall through a crack

but when it turned up on Wednesday with Tuesday

they all bumped into Thursday

and as Saturday didn’t appear

pretty soon every day was Friday

 

and February hid behind March

and emerged blinking into April

failing to notice it was actually May

though it must be June because it’s the longest day

but Hooray! in fact it’s July

and time to dress for the party

which August says has been cancelled

and September arrives

to tell everyone that October and November

will have to wait until Christmas

which might or might not happen

and anyway will quickly give way to January 

with new resolutions

that just turn into February

which will hide behind March until April

and somehow fail to notice

it is already May . . .

Helvetica Light is an easy-to-read font, with tall and narrow letters, that works well on almost every site.

'Hunters' Crescent' - hand-coloured linocut


 

Sue is a member of
Greenwichprintmkers
 

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This space is ideal for writing a detailed description of your business and the types of services that you provide. Talk about your team and your areas of expertise. 

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In praise of fridge door poetry

 

Give me the sharp, the fast

tap-dancing line-defining snap of rap

the clever, jolly verbal slap on lips

of rhyme line endings

waiting like a trap.

 

Spare me my inner ancient mariner,

my brooding Rimbaud and Verlaine.

Spare me my albatross,

my tendency to share, to bleed

to harvest metaphors of pain.

 

Spare me the cruel tides

where sombre islands meet

and dark horizons loom,

where vast container ships of gloom appear, un-crewed,

on their collision course with doom.

 

Give me words sucked from a stick of rock,

or words on roller-coaster, ghost train rides.

Give me the sawdust bin of brain’s miscellany - its Lucky Dip - 

or just the random joy of words

rough shuffled on the white enamel of the fridge.

aise of fridge door poetry

 

Give me the sharp, the fast

tap-dancing line-defining snap of rap

the clever, jolly verbal slap on lips

of rhyme line endings

waiting like a trap.

 

Spare me my inner ancient mariner,

my brooding Rimbaud and Verlaine.

Spare me my albatross,

my tendency to share, to bleed

to harvest metaphors of pain.

 

Spare me the cruel tides

where sombre islands meet

and dark horizons loom,

where vast container ships of gloom appear, un-crewed,

on their collision course with doom.

 

Give me words sucked from a stick of rock,

or words on roller-coaster, ghost train rides.

Give me the sawdust bin of brain’s miscellany - its Lucky Dip - 

or just the random joy of words

rough shuffled on the white enamel of the fridge.

18080242804219391.jpg

Add Your Title

This is a great place to add a tagline.

18080242804219391.jpg
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email:                      whitmore.susan@yahoo.co.uk
visual arts website:  www.suewhitmore.co.uk
instagram:                suewhitmore3573
Facebook:                @suewhitmore4

Twitter:                    @suewhitmore1


Copyright with Sue Whitmore

Sue is a co-Chair of Greenwich Printmakers Association:www.greenwichprintmakers.co.uk
 

Events
Contact

© 2017 by  Sue Whitmore created with Wix.com

An old story

 

A virgin surrogate to bear

a strangely modified chimeric son;

an Olympian god who didn’t ask if she

was party to the task, so young

her few life choices hadn’t yet begun?

 

Much disapproval – and yes, some mirth,

a painful journey days before the birth

then, like so many women caught

in yet another Levantine war  

like those to come and those that went before

 

she, without offence or crime

will seek asylum till the end of time.

And in her womb she has a child

who’ll take her with him in his fight

to put the problems with his species right.

 

SW ’22

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