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
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
44 reads
12 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
26th Sep 2021 6:44pm
26th Sep 2021 6:44pm
Tormented And Restless
All nights are bad, though some worse than others.
I can’t sleep.
The seconds and minutes pass in silence.
I long for winter.
For the damp and cold and rain and wind.
Snow and sleet and frost.
The summer heat is suffocating, reminding me of that other summer twenty years ago.
Tonight, I see them;
not only Dawn, but her sister as well, both fair skinned like their mother, hair the colour of hay.
The girls hurry along the lane above the coast, sandals scraping on tarmac in the July heat.
Ahead of them lies the sea, the tide out, water...
I can’t sleep.
The seconds and minutes pass in silence.
I long for winter.
For the damp and cold and rain and wind.
Snow and sleet and frost.
The summer heat is suffocating, reminding me of that other summer twenty years ago.
Tonight, I see them;
not only Dawn, but her sister as well, both fair skinned like their mother, hair the colour of hay.
The girls hurry along the lane above the coast, sandals scraping on tarmac in the July heat.
Ahead of them lies the sea, the tide out, water...
#grief
#memories
#mystery
34 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
19th Sep 2021 3:09pm
19th Sep 2021 3:09pm
A Very Dangerous Man
Alone in a house a man lay bound in ropes, hidden by the night. Not even the moon shone into the cellar, for the small window was boarded up. The man never saw the sun or the stars. He heard no voices, no laughter.
In the cellar a light bulb hung from the ceiling. I stood over the man, observing him gurgle, watching the blood dribble from his nose and stain his gag. The man's name was Damien.
They think I don't see, but I do. I see everything. I see them snivelling and running. I see them laughing. They are laughing at me, their voices piercing and hideous. I...
In the cellar a light bulb hung from the ceiling. I stood over the man, observing him gurgle, watching the blood dribble from his nose and stain his gag. The man's name was Damien.
They think I don't see, but I do. I see everything. I see them snivelling and running. I see them laughing. They are laughing at me, their voices piercing and hideous. I...
#scary
#mystery
#risk
64 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Sep 2021 10:21pm
8th Sep 2021 10:21pm
A Picture Of Pathos
At around this time I learnt Beethoven's piano sonata, The Pathetique.
The dramatic opening reminded me of the opening in my novel Secrets.
The protagonist making his way up Whaley Hill in Lancashire in the November chill and fog in search of the man he'd helped put behind bars sixteen years earlier.
The angry, almost violent, chords that answer the pathos of the melody in the Pathetique.
The build up of rain, the promise of a storm on Whaley Hill.
The continuing intensity of emotion in the Pathetique as lyrical despair alternates with irate harmonies and...
The dramatic opening reminded me of the opening in my novel Secrets.
The protagonist making his way up Whaley Hill in Lancashire in the November chill and fog in search of the man he'd helped put behind bars sixteen years earlier.
The angry, almost violent, chords that answer the pathos of the melody in the Pathetique.
The build up of rain, the promise of a storm on Whaley Hill.
The continuing intensity of emotion in the Pathetique as lyrical despair alternates with irate harmonies and...
#memories
#mystery
#risk
46 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Sep 2021 9:01pm
2nd Sep 2021 9:01pm
Escaping The Factory
How will we manage in Spain if you get sick? '
'I won't get sick. It's her persecuting me. Her. And you.'
Shush, he's wearing a dark gown. He has a kitchen knife in his hands. He wants to kill you.
He laughed, unable to stop. She believed him. Believed they were going to Spain in two week's time. Believed they were going to live in a villa belonging to his late aunt. Silly. Gullible. The aunt had never existed.
'Don't do that,' Cassie said. 'You're frightening me.'
'Shut up. Shut UP!'
Cassie was sick. Indeed, all of...
'I won't get sick. It's her persecuting me. Her. And you.'
Shush, he's wearing a dark gown. He has a kitchen knife in his hands. He wants to kill you.
He laughed, unable to stop. She believed him. Believed they were going to Spain in two week's time. Believed they were going to live in a villa belonging to his late aunt. Silly. Gullible. The aunt had never existed.
'Don't do that,' Cassie said. 'You're frightening me.'
'Shut up. Shut UP!'
Cassie was sick. Indeed, all of...
#mystery
#risk
71 reads
10 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Aug 2021 10:45pm
23rd Aug 2021 10:45pm
Modern Day Woes
winter, spring, summer, autumn
one day slips into the next
the future uncertain
dreams troubled
an era of technology
time passes almost unnoticed
agitation, unrest, disaster
the world is full of fear
promises broken
a planet out of control
the pandemic halted -
but for how long?
one day slips into the next
the future uncertain
dreams troubled
an era of technology
time passes almost unnoticed
agitation, unrest, disaster
the world is full of fear
promises broken
a planet out of control
the pandemic halted -
but for how long?
#anxiety
#LifeStruggles
#pandemic
71 reads
14 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Aug 2021 10:04pm
13th Aug 2021 10:04pm
Gazing Afar
He sits on a bench close to a line of cottages
halfway up the winding hill
staring out to sea
waves churning as the sun sets
splashing against rocks
soaking the sand
a lull that reminds him of nursery rhymes
and happier times
tomorrow’s a new day, he thinks
and wipes away a tear
halfway up the winding hill
staring out to sea
waves churning as the sun sets
splashing against rocks
soaking the sand
a lull that reminds him of nursery rhymes
and happier times
tomorrow’s a new day, he thinks
and wipes away a tear
#regret
#loneliness
#nature
87 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Aug 2021 11:06pm
7th Aug 2021 11:06pm
He Lost It All
The hiker crosses a field
treading along the grass
grass as parched as hay
sunlight pouring down his face
stinging his eyes
Could life have been perfect just six weeks ago?
hope blossoming along with the spring?
evenings full of promise as they’d sat at the picnic table in their garden
eating Mediterranean salad and drinking wine?
The hiker reaches the foot of a stile
and nearly stumbles
the afternoon sun scorching and unforgiving
accusing him
- along with his silent self
treading along the grass
grass as parched as hay
sunlight pouring down his face
stinging his eyes
Could life have been perfect just six weeks ago?
hope blossoming along with the spring?
evenings full of promise as they’d sat at the picnic table in their garden
eating Mediterranean salad and drinking wine?
The hiker reaches the foot of a stile
and nearly stumbles
the afternoon sun scorching and unforgiving
accusing him
- along with his silent self
#regret
#SelfReflection
69 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
1st Aug 2021 9:50pm
1st Aug 2021 9:50pm
Mid July-Oct 2012 (conclusion)
I never smoked again.
However, as the summer of 2012 slipped into autumn, I faced two new problems: a chronic mouth infection caused by the mouth reacting to the absence of cigarettes, and strong, almost uncontrollable, urges to buy a pack of cigarettes, smoke all the cigarettes in a day, and then quit again in the morning.
The dentist dealt with the first problem by prescribing an antibacterial mouthwash. But only I could deal with the second. Thankfully, I didn’t gave in to temptation, no matter how powerful.
Facebook post 15 Oct 12: had a special lung...
However, as the summer of 2012 slipped into autumn, I faced two new problems: a chronic mouth infection caused by the mouth reacting to the absence of cigarettes, and strong, almost uncontrollable, urges to buy a pack of cigarettes, smoke all the cigarettes in a day, and then quit again in the morning.
The dentist dealt with the first problem by prescribing an antibacterial mouthwash. But only I could deal with the second. Thankfully, I didn’t gave in to temptation, no matter how powerful.
Facebook post 15 Oct 12: had a special lung...
#tobacco
#addiction
#determination
51 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
30th Jul 2021 9:16pm
30th Jul 2021 9:16pm
Eden Gained And Lost (July 12)
Fylde, Lancashire; tree paved streets resembling a London suburb, but situated by the Irish Sea, not the Thames.
Fylde, Lancashire: a place of memories
Friday 17 August 2012
I arrive after a long train journey that includes a wait at Preston. I think the Government have banned smoking in public places, but I definitely detected cigarette smoke while I waited for my connecting train and I moved away from the source of the smell, keen to avoid triggers.
I step off the train, into a tiny station that has only one rail track. Out in the...
Fylde, Lancashire: a place of memories
Friday 17 August 2012
I arrive after a long train journey that includes a wait at Preston. I think the Government have banned smoking in public places, but I definitely detected cigarette smoke while I waited for my connecting train and I moved away from the source of the smell, keen to avoid triggers.
I step off the train, into a tiny station that has only one rail track. Out in the...
#childhood
#tobacco
#memories
#addiction
#determination
62 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
27th Jul 2021 10:56pm
27th Jul 2021 10:56pm
Mid July 2012 (part 4)
Thursday Day Four 26/7/12
I feel sick and restless in the evening. Unable to sleep. I live alone in a Studio in North London. There is no partner or wife, no “other half”, although that will change one day, hopefully.
I switch on the radio and inhale furiously on the Nicorette Inhalator, desperate for relief from the cravings. I sleep with the light on and listen to pop music from childhood, caught in a mixture of past, present and future.
Yeah, life’s complex. Life rarely works out as one expects. After I graduated from Dartington College of Arts, I stayed...
I feel sick and restless in the evening. Unable to sleep. I live alone in a Studio in North London. There is no partner or wife, no “other half”, although that will change one day, hopefully.
I switch on the radio and inhale furiously on the Nicorette Inhalator, desperate for relief from the cravings. I sleep with the light on and listen to pop music from childhood, caught in a mixture of past, present and future.
Yeah, life’s complex. Life rarely works out as one expects. After I graduated from Dartington College of Arts, I stayed...
#tobacco
#addiction
#determination
56 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
25th Jul 2021 8:21pm
25th Jul 2021 8:21pm
Mid July 2012 (part 3)
Day One Monday 23/7/12
I head to the pharmacy to collect the prescriptions for Nicorette. Past experiences with Nicorette didn’t help, but now the Inhalator keeps most of the cravings at bay and the taste seems to have improved since I last used it.
I go to bed about one am, more than twenty-four hours after my last cigarette. When I wake in the morning, I notice a difference: my Morning Cough has gone.
***
Day Two Tuesday 24/7
Emotional day with sudden cravings to smoke.
I receive an email. An invitation to spend a...
I head to the pharmacy to collect the prescriptions for Nicorette. Past experiences with Nicorette didn’t help, but now the Inhalator keeps most of the cravings at bay and the taste seems to have improved since I last used it.
I go to bed about one am, more than twenty-four hours after my last cigarette. When I wake in the morning, I notice a difference: my Morning Cough has gone.
***
Day Two Tuesday 24/7
Emotional day with sudden cravings to smoke.
I receive an email. An invitation to spend a...
#tobacco
#addiction
#determination
71 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lozzamus
