Submissions by Lozzamus
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction I compare poetry to painting, believing that I lack any drawing/painting skills but believing my imagination and training in writing has enabled me to transfer my love of visual art to the written word
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Jan 2022 10:19pm
17th Jan 2022 10:19pm
Fractured Memories
night
icy rain
the choppy surface of the sea
the smell of salt in the air
a guy like myself dressed in an anorak like mine
standing by the railings with a mobile phone
talking
I have hazy recollections of waking up from a nightmare with a shout and heading down to the promenade in the early hours of the morning, shivering from the cold and smoking a cigarette by the railings as I watch the sea in the distance, a huge mass that breathes in the dark
icy rain
the choppy surface of the sea
the smell of salt in the air
a guy like myself dressed in an anorak like mine
standing by the railings with a mobile phone
talking
I have hazy recollections of waking up from a nightmare with a shout and heading down to the promenade in the early hours of the morning, shivering from the cold and smoking a cigarette by the railings as I watch the sea in the distance, a huge mass that breathes in the dark
#mystery
#PTSD
#risk
31 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
9th Jan 2022 00:11am
9th Jan 2022 00:11am
The Email
Talk about internet trolls. Today is the fifth anniversary of the fire and I get this totally sick email.
Thinking Of You, the subject reads.
A bit odd, but I open the email anyway, despite not recognising the name of the Sender. I gape. Is this someone's idea of a joke? Or am I dreaming? No way would a normal person write a message like this:
I passed you on the street the other day but you didn't recognise me. Your name is Gavin Montgomery and you're twenty-three-old. Your parents live in Doncaster and they have one other son who's a couple of years...
Thinking Of You, the subject reads.
A bit odd, but I open the email anyway, despite not recognising the name of the Sender. I gape. Is this someone's idea of a joke? Or am I dreaming? No way would a normal person write a message like this:
I passed you on the street the other day but you didn't recognise me. Your name is Gavin Montgomery and you're twenty-three-old. Your parents live in Doncaster and they have one other son who's a couple of years...
#mystery
#tragedy
#risk #fear
#risk #fear
73 reads
8 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
30th Dec 2021 11:05pm
30th Dec 2021 11:05pm
Cassie
Cassie, obviously, had been brought up in the cult. She must have sat in the same punishment room, desperate for freedom. She must have witnessed the chanting, the fights, the humiliating rituals - the trust exercises, as Uncle had referred to them. She must have explored the same nearby countryside, the wooded hills, the wild stretches of heath land that had gone on for miles. She must have run along on the same beach, dipping her toes into the warm sea, searching for fossils.
Perhaps the leader had terrorised Cassie too. An experience shared. An experience no one would...
Perhaps the leader had terrorised Cassie too. An experience shared. An experience no one would...
#memories
#mystery
#suffering #risk
#suffering #risk
82 reads
9 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
21st Dec 2021 11:59pm
21st Dec 2021 11:59pm
Haunted and Lost (*Strictly Fictional)
Nine years later he returned, looking for answers to what happened when the people from the farm came to the house to play mind games on his mum and sister
He visited the surrounding cove and the café where he’d first met Arthur and Lily, only to find it under new management
No, the new owners weren’t around when it all happened, they didn’t know anything about it
He left the café and walked along the shore, remembering how the bearded Elder had walked with him along this shore one spring morning nearly a decade earlier;
how they’d sat on a bench together...
He visited the surrounding cove and the café where he’d first met Arthur and Lily, only to find it under new management
No, the new owners weren’t around when it all happened, they didn’t know anything about it
He left the café and walked along the shore, remembering how the bearded Elder had walked with him along this shore one spring morning nearly a decade earlier;
how they’d sat on a bench together...
#loneliness
#childhood
#memories
#mystery
#obsession
91 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
15th Dec 2021 00:25am
15th Dec 2021 00:25am
The Abandoned House
I slip away, into fog and greyness, into a sphere of nothingness where there is neither time nor sensation. Next thing, I'm sitting on a damp basement floor with a glowing torchlight close by, feeling sick from all the booze, and everything's spinning round and round.
It's night time, and I'm shivering and I have no idea of where I am or how I got here. The men have all crashed out. I don't remember leaving the promenade with Angus, Bill and Terence, or anything about the walk to this damp basement room. I don't know what the hell's going on, and that's scary. I don't even know...
It's night time, and I'm shivering and I have no idea of where I am or how I got here. The men have all crashed out. I don't remember leaving the promenade with Angus, Bill and Terence, or anything about the walk to this damp basement room. I don't know what the hell's going on, and that's scary. I don't even know...
#wind
#mystery
#risk
78 reads
9 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
8th Dec 2021 00:15am
8th Dec 2021 00:15am
Exhausted - Third Jab
Despite struggling with a marked needle phobia, I went for the Booster Jab yesterday, primarily due to a history of pneumonia and asthma. I took a mild sedative prescribed by the GP. A friend accompanied me to the vaccination centre and we went for lunch afterwards.
I felt a bit unwell today and dozed throughout the afternoon and evening, having some pretty crazy dreams. Plus, my arm is sore.
I felt and feel a strong sense of gratitude towards the staff at the centre. While I was there, someone got angry over the mandatory instruction to remain on the premises for 15...
I felt a bit unwell today and dozed throughout the afternoon and evening, having some pretty crazy dreams. Plus, my arm is sore.
I felt and feel a strong sense of gratitude towards the staff at the centre. While I was there, someone got angry over the mandatory instruction to remain on the premises for 15...
#science
#fear
#pandemic
58 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
24th Nov 2021 9:23pm
24th Nov 2021 9:23pm
Another Power cut
It happened again this afternoon. I’d made a late lunch. I’d just finished a language lesson. I was trying to send an email but the wireless connection failed. Even more telling, I could hear a neighbour’s alarm, like before when a local power cut had occurred.
The same panic struck me. The fear of starving and of getting abandoned in the dark and the late autumn chill. Visions of hunger.
Plus, anger.
I hurried out, hoping to get a warm sandwich, but the electricity in the local bakery had failed – so I ordered vegan chocolate cake and coffee but then...
The same panic struck me. The fear of starving and of getting abandoned in the dark and the late autumn chill. Visions of hunger.
Plus, anger.
I hurried out, hoping to get a warm sandwich, but the electricity in the local bakery had failed – so I ordered vegan chocolate cake and coffee but then...
#anxiety
#fall
#vulnerability
104 reads
11 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Nov 2021 9:04pm
18th Nov 2021 9:04pm
Deja Vu?
A few weeks later, I arrived at the pier, having spent hours jumping on and off buses, tubes and trains. My shoulders and neck were stiff and sore from lugging two heavy bags around, and I wasn't in the best of the moods. Take the town, for instance. Strong smell. Humid, sticky weather. Grey: sand, skies, metal monstrosity holding up the pier. Seagulls.
But it wasn't just the surroundings. As soon as I stepped off the bus, I got a sense that I'd visited the town before, even though I knew I hadn't. Everything seemed familiar. Each turning I took. The buildings. The layout of the...
But it wasn't just the surroundings. As soon as I stepped off the bus, I got a sense that I'd visited the town before, even though I knew I hadn't. Everything seemed familiar. Each turning I took. The buildings. The layout of the...
#mystery
#risk
102 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Nov 2021 10:08pm
8th Nov 2021 10:08pm
City Streets, London - Before Covid
An autumn day
crisp but sunny
crowds stand at traffic lights
tourists amble, pausing to take photographs
buildings tower over busy roads
making them look like avenues
England’s capital
ageless
another day
crisp but sunny
crowds stand at traffic lights
tourists amble, pausing to take photographs
buildings tower over busy roads
making them look like avenues
England’s capital
ageless
another day
#city
#memories
65 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Oct 2021 7:57pm
28th Oct 2021 7:57pm
Dreams Of The Past
Drifting away into a mishmash of dreams:
meadows and orchards
abandoned farmhouses
chickens feeding on sawdust and maize by wired fencing
an August heatwave
petrol cans and parched grass
an old wooden barn in the centre of a field.
Then he is fifteen again
standing on top of the mound by the railway line during another heatwave
watching as one of the local boys stumbles, falling to the bottom of the slope
into the path of an speeding train.
meadows and orchards
abandoned farmhouses
chickens feeding on sawdust and maize by wired fencing
an August heatwave
petrol cans and parched grass
an old wooden barn in the centre of a field.
Then he is fifteen again
standing on top of the mound by the railway line during another heatwave
watching as one of the local boys stumbles, falling to the bottom of the slope
into the path of an speeding train.
#regret
#childhood
#memories
81 reads
12 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Oct 2021 10:21pm
18th Oct 2021 10:21pm
Searching For Cassie
He called Cassie from the van, but she was refusing to answer his calls. He followed the late afternoon traffic up the Edgware Road and considered what to do about Cassie and her constant mischief making.
He came to a set of red lights by a chemist's. The lights were warning him about Cassie, saying she was dangerous, that she was one of the people who had sent him to the House where he had first met the Bone Man. The Rag and Bone man, dirty and unshaven, climbing up the rickety staircase to play Hide and Seek.
The bells are ringing,
St Hilda has died, ...
He came to a set of red lights by a chemist's. The lights were warning him about Cassie, saying she was dangerous, that she was one of the people who had sent him to the House where he had first met the Bone Man. The Rag and Bone man, dirty and unshaven, climbing up the rickety staircase to play Hide and Seek.
The bells are ringing,
St Hilda has died, ...
#mystery
#obsession
#risk
117 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th Oct 2021 8:54pm
6th Oct 2021 8:54pm
Underground
Got to get out of here!
Can't stand the dark and the damp and the dust.
Claustrophobia; the imagination offering countless possibilities. The ceiling caving in, burying me. If the floor gave way as well, I would fall into blackness, panting and suffocating, knowing that I'd never escape. Certain death.
Buried alive. Like in the famous Rachmaninoff Prelude. Pounding chords as the man attempts to fight his way out of a grave.
Help!
Can't stand the dark and the damp and the dust.
Claustrophobia; the imagination offering countless possibilities. The ceiling caving in, burying me. If the floor gave way as well, I would fall into blackness, panting and suffocating, knowing that I'd never escape. Certain death.
Buried alive. Like in the famous Rachmaninoff Prelude. Pounding chords as the man attempts to fight his way out of a grave.
Help!
#mystery
#FeelingTrapped
#risk
171 reads
12 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lozzamus
