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Comfort

Email: comfienwabia@live.co.uk
Web: http://comfortfabiannwabia.blogspot.com/
Updated: Sun, 21 Nov 2010 06:22 pm

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Biography

am a 17 year old actress/scriptwriter/poet who has taken part in and witnessed several new initiatives in theatre and has a passion for film. I have a big ego – which isn’t obvious to begin with: one of my few main failings (there, see? ego!). I love good grammar and skilful use of punctuation. I’m a bit of a fun loving grandma really (I knit, cook, clean and bake, learning to croquet from my mum at the moment). I think facebook groups and fan pages are brilliant, indeed facebook in general is brilliant. I’m a sucker for genuine nobility. I can be nauseatingly sentimental, but I’m working on it. I love little children. Whether it’s a short story, poem or script I always try to write the truth, which is why my work is often inspired by my own life and those around me. I’m kind of stoic. I'd like to be this pillar of emotional and psychological strength, which everyone could lean on. I’m also a Black Female Catholic Christian, in case you’re looking for someone to tick your tokenist boxes (winks). I love TV, especially BBC programmes, and I’m just a bit anti-‘skins’(as in the programme)

Samples

Check my portfolio at: http://ideastap.com/people/comfortfabiannwabia Serendipity Despite the lack of many spiritual truths Probably now gone leaving the grasp of Benign sorrow with the supreme advantage of Divine Probability: The soul stumbles across This hatred for all things that concrete Perhaps but unlikely by chance. Now looking up, pregnant with decisiveness Only a semi-divisive force in the scrum. Love has come now to drown in Hate’s Incestuous cesspools of disgust. The floor therefore becomes the ceiling. Maybe, it’s not to late to reach for the stars And maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late To teach them the fine arts of beauty. Maybe... Nostalgia ...so Visions love: Hate loss An exceedingly painful intrusion. The very precision of incision Sizes up from the bottom to the top A distinct and once thought extinct instinct Of Despair. Memories, in plethora not easily destroyed By age. Staged in a cosy haziness with lies About its long since dead and undivided ancestor. Before, until now stuck in a Glee outside of judgment Disgusted with its own locomotive security. Now all illustrated Destruction and rage and fury and pain Everlasting. Like the moment time far surpassed The prescriptive powers of life and death And the naked truth daintily frightened us all. Senseless love: Hate subsidy so...

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Comments

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Winston (Admin)

Fri 26th Nov 2010 13:09

Hi Comfort, Welcome to Write Out Loud. Winston (Admin)

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