US American Poet Prudy Sutherland

Prudy Sutherland lived in the 20th century in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Florida. Born at the end of World War II with cerebral palsy, to a highly educated family, she became a writer of poems, short stories and essays, and likely would have published had she been born just 25 years later.

As a young girl she could walk with difficulty and support, but mostly moved about propelling her wheelchair skillfully with her feet. Because she could not control her arms or hands easily, she needed help with feeding. For drinking, and she used a plastic cup with a removable top, with a long pliable tube like a straw. She spoke with difficulty, but usually with a wonderful sense of humor, entertaining those around her.

Prudy was educated through high school and took some college classes. She had an IBM typewriter and wore a leather helmet with a custom fixture that had a pointer with a pencil eraser on it and she would type with her head, one letter at a time. She typed her homework assignments and papers; simple graphics, and a lot of poetry. Prudy was also an outspoken advocate for independent living for those with handicaps, and herself lived in independent housing in Hartford Connecticut with a room mate, who was also a care-taker. Her most publicized piece of writing was published in New York’s Village Voice, an essay about wanting to make love.  Prudy died in the hospital after complications with surgery, her poetry and short story collection so far not published.

When writers have to overcome difficult hurdles, as Prudy Sutherland had to, nodding her head and aiming for each individual letter typed, their work deserves special attention. What tremendous determination and persistence they maintained to make it happen.

Here is a sample of her poems:

Spilled Darkness

The inky twilight

Makes the field of pristine snow

A blue-black blotter.

27 December 1976

 

Different

A kiss through crooked

Teeth need not seem feeble, just

Alluringly strange.

21 June 1976

 

Society is Equal to the Sum of its Members

When a man does bleed

He has an obligation

To call out loudly.

4 June 1977

 

The Lord’s Day

Jazz on a Sunday morning

Blares from a student’s window

Out over the yawning city.

The inert old man cannot hear its notes

As he slowly dies.

Man kids himself a lot

— but so does God.

19 September 1976

 

Impermanence

A brass moon appeared

Suddenly at my window,

Then vanished in the clouds,

The metalic phantom gave

A ghoulish tint to the night.

4 July 1976

 

The Watched

The moon, a third full, laughs —

A clown in the sky.

Does its laughter

Deride or cherish

The ambitions of man?

31 August 1976

—

Prudy Sutherland was the youngest sibling, of Women Writer, Women Books’ editor, Anora McGaha’s father. When visiting her grandparents in Cambridge Massachusetts, Anora would help care for Prudy, and with her siblings, take Prudy on rides to Harvard Square, back in the day when side walks did not have handicap ramps. It is Anora’s hope that she will be able to publish Prudy’s work and be able to donate most of the proceeds to benefit United Cerebral Palsy.

Tags: 20th century women poets, 20th century women poets with CP, handicapped writers, handicapped writers with CP, poets with cerebral palsy, poets with CP, poets writing with a physical handicap, women haiku poets, women poets with CP, women writer with cerebral palsy, women writers with CP, writers who can't use their hands, writers who type with their heads, writers with a handicap, writers with a physical handicap, writers with CP

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, Poetry by Women Poets, US American Women Writers