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.
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
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
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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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.
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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
© 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