Artists of America's Poet Laureate
Georgia Washington, Calligrapher, Script Writer, Poet & Founding member of the famed Writer’s Corner Poets (WCP) of Los Angeles. The WCP group was formed in July 1995 in the Hollywood Hills home of Carole Wade, an upscale neighborhood high above the downtown area of Los Angeles, CA. This location became the central meeting place for the diverse group of poets & writers (numbering, at one time up to 35 members) & continued for several years after the group was formed. Because of the large geographical area of Los Angeles, the distance for some members became too lengthy of a drive, prompting a vote to have monthly meetings held at the home of different members. After 15 years the group, though smaller in numbers, continues to meet quarterly to write, discuss, read & perform at public & private events, upon request.
One of Georgia's favorite quotes (author unknown) done in Caligraphy by Georgia:
In early June, 2010, Georgia was named Poet Laureate for Artist of America (AOA). She accepts this honor with much gratitude & humility. Georgia is extremely proud to be part of the Artist of America establishment, and extends special thanks to Executive Director, Diedre Hopkins-Burke and to the distinguishing committee members for selecting her Poet Laureate for AOA. She looks forward to supporting the leadership, working with the members of AOA, promoting free art classes for students, and increasing a greater awareness for reading and writing poetry.
Georgia is also a member of the Museum of African American Art (MAAA), located on the 3rd floor of Macy’s department store in the Baldwin Hills section of Los Angeles. She volunteers her time bi-annually at the museum for special programs and is an active participant in supporting various events during the year.
Though maintaining a busy schedule; socially, politically & religiously, Georgia remains committed to writing, and is currently working on her first book of poetry, entitled “NOISE OF RATTLING WHEELS,” (translated: “the hum of life’) Summer, 2011)
In the parking lot before leaving
It slips from my hand,
This receipt I’m holding
Snatched by the wind and swept across the lot
Under cars, around light poles, and over cement blocks
I run after it; it keeps moving
Pushed by the wind, I reach for it
It escapes me
I stumble and fall
But no one is looking
I jump up, my ankle hurt
I’m limping; chasing it with a vengeance
It’s caught in debris beside the fence
I grab it quickly, from its resting place
Ball it up, throw it in my purse
“I never would have chased you,” I said,
but, I need proof of purchase for my next return.