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
Frozen In A Forest
Lost in the forest,
Took a wrong path,
All the paths looks the same,
Obscure, shadowy,
Hidden by trees.
Fading daylight,
Darkness now,
The temperature drops,
Rain and hail,
Roar of a gale.
He shelters under a tree,
Shivering,
His stomach rumbling with hunger,
Feet caked in damp mud,
His toes numb from the cold,
Tears frozen on his cheeks.
Took a wrong path,
All the paths looks the same,
Obscure, shadowy,
Hidden by trees.
Fading daylight,
Darkness now,
The temperature drops,
Rain and hail,
Roar of a gale.
He shelters under a tree,
Shivering,
His stomach rumbling with hunger,
Feet caked in damp mud,
His toes numb from the cold,
Tears frozen on his cheeks.
#rejection
#winter
#nature
376 reads
8 Comments
November Rain, The Seasons
Rain, a steady patter
A source of refreshment
The air, cool but comforting
The sounds outside, lulling, calming
The scent, mild with a hint of soil
Autumn
A source of refreshment
The air, cool but comforting
The sounds outside, lulling, calming
The scent, mild with a hint of soil
Autumn
#countryside
#nature
#peace
410 reads
7 Comments
The Rag-And-Bone Man: A Forgotten Age
Rag-and-bone! Rag-and-bone!”
A man trudges down their street,
Small and bent over and pushing a cart.
He stops right outside their house,
And taps on the window.
“The man is coming and knocking on the window.
Shouting and laughing and tapping at the glass.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
The bone man’s here,
Standing in the hallway with a bottle of gin.”
A man trudges down their street,
Small and bent over and pushing a cart.
He stops right outside their house,
And taps on the window.
“The man is coming and knocking on the window.
Shouting and laughing and tapping at the glass.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
The bone man’s here,
Standing in the hallway with a bottle of gin.”
#city
#alcohol
#poverty
324 reads
8 Comments
The Castle Moat
The scent of wild flowers blend with sun and sea
The waves below splash
Helping him remember
Buried recollections of a childhood someone else lived
Whispers from other places
A breeze from the cliffs
The cafe veranda with spiky railings
Buckets and spades and sandcastles
The warmth of sand in his sandals and toes
Standing near a castle in the summer heat
Eating ice cream by the moat
While the grown ups smile and take photographs on an old Polaroid camera
The waves below splash
Helping him remember
Buried recollections of a childhood someone else lived
Whispers from other places
A breeze from the cliffs
The cafe veranda with spiky railings
Buckets and spades and sandcastles
The warmth of sand in his sandals and toes
Standing near a castle in the summer heat
Eating ice cream by the moat
While the grown ups smile and take photographs on an old Polaroid camera
#beach
#holiday
#memories #nostalgia
#memories #nostalgia
517 reads
10 Comments
Winter Lethargy
The nights draw in early
Cold and damp
The moon hidden behind clouds
Nearly absent
The heat indoors becomes stifling
The chill outside
Raw and primitive
One sleeps without resting
Lost in shadowy dreams
Fighting off colds and flu
In the morning fog hovers over the pavement
Cheerless like factory smoke
The damp leaves tease early morning commuters
Waiting to trip them as they hurry to the bus stops
Deadlines and stresses loom
The promise, or the threat, of Christmas
Mounting pressures...
Cold and damp
The moon hidden behind clouds
Nearly absent
The heat indoors becomes stifling
The chill outside
Raw and primitive
One sleeps without resting
Lost in shadowy dreams
Fighting off colds and flu
In the morning fog hovers over the pavement
Cheerless like factory smoke
The damp leaves tease early morning commuters
Waiting to trip them as they hurry to the bus stops
Deadlines and stresses loom
The promise, or the threat, of Christmas
Mounting pressures...
#fall
#morning
#boredom
322 reads
7 Comments
Rejoicing In The Law, Manchester, UK
Aged ten. My favourite Jewish Festival was Simchos Torah (Rejoicing in the Law). It fell in the autumn, along with Yom Kippur and the Jewish New Year. As the title suggested, it was one of the more joyous festivals of the Jewish cycle, spread over an evening and morning, with a small party at the conclusion of the evening celebrations and an even bigger one in the morning.
That year, we drove to the synagogue from our home near the Pennines in Lancashire, parking at the top of the street to avoid upsetting the rabbi and the more observant members of the congregation.
...
That year, we drove to the synagogue from our home near the Pennines in Lancashire, parking at the top of the street to avoid upsetting the rabbi and the more observant members of the congregation.
...
#childhood
#religion
#memories #nostalgia
#memories #nostalgia
341 reads
4 Comments
The Little Shul in Manchester, UK
Aged five. The Sabbath.
In the morning, we took a walk to the synagogue in Cheetham Hill The Little Shul, as we referred to it. We lived in a three-bedroom terrace house in Sedgley Road, about two miles from the centre of Manchester.
The houses surrounding the one in Sedgley Road had privet hedges out by the fronts, along with the damp look common to properties in the north of England. A few minutes away stood a huge Catholic Church on the main road.
This building for whatever reason would conjure up images in my mind of fried cashew nuts...
In the morning, we took a walk to the synagogue in Cheetham Hill The Little Shul, as we referred to it. We lived in a three-bedroom terrace house in Sedgley Road, about two miles from the centre of Manchester.
The houses surrounding the one in Sedgley Road had privet hedges out by the fronts, along with the damp look common to properties in the north of England. A few minutes away stood a huge Catholic Church on the main road.
This building for whatever reason would conjure up images in my mind of fried cashew nuts...
#childhood
#religion
#nostalgia #separation
#nostalgia #separation
382 reads
4 Comments
The Visitor
Rolling onto her side, she reached for the pillow and pressed the cool fabric against her face. For a long time, she lay like this, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, longing for sleep, yet dreading it in case she remembered the night of the party and the missing hours.
Later, the sound of footsteps broke into another restless dream about prison. Soft, purposeful ones on the stairs – unlike Bill or Meg’s or the boys’. Footsteps treading up the old narrow staircase to the landing, stopping outside the study where she lay in the dark, unable to move or make a sound. ...
Later, the sound of footsteps broke into another restless dream about prison. Soft, purposeful ones on the stairs – unlike Bill or Meg’s or the boys’. Footsteps treading up the old narrow staircase to the landing, stopping outside the study where she lay in the dark, unable to move or make a sound. ...
#scary
#mystery
#nightmares
558 reads
11 Comments
Country Life
Childhood
A village green, smooth like a bowling green, surrounded by thatched roof cottages
The feel of the wind on their cheeks as brother and sister run across the green to the tiny shop for their weekly sweets
Lemonade and ice buns by the garden swing while the family dog presses a moist nose against the sister’s knee, watching with cloudy eyes, whimpering for a piece of bun
Deep rural stillness
Twigs strewn along a path near the riverbank
The scent of pine and mud
A village green, smooth like a bowling green, surrounded by thatched roof cottages
The feel of the wind on their cheeks as brother and sister run across the green to the tiny shop for their weekly sweets
Lemonade and ice buns by the garden swing while the family dog presses a moist nose against the sister’s knee, watching with cloudy eyes, whimpering for a piece of bun
Deep rural stillness
Twigs strewn along a path near the riverbank
The scent of pine and mud
#home
#nature
#nostalgia
356 reads
6 Comments
Autumn Chill
A blast seeps in from the east
Restless, cold and biting
The sky darkens
Night
No moon in sight
The scorching summer just a memory
The leaves from the trees no longer fresh or alive
But old and withered now
The garden still
Silence has fallen
November, a new month, approaches
Restless, cold and biting
The sky darkens
Night
No moon in sight
The scorching summer just a memory
The leaves from the trees no longer fresh or alive
But old and withered now
The garden still
Silence has fallen
November, a new month, approaches
#nature
#nostalgia
341 reads
8 Comments
Alone In A Storm, And Paranoia
Thunder rumbles across the bay, followed seconds later by splattering rain on the paving stone outside.
There's another growl of thunder, louder this time.
She opens her eyes, groggy still from her afternoon nap.
More lightning at the window, followed by a pause in the storm as the steady thud of rain becomes a downpour. She goes into the lounge to draw the curtains.
She stops.
That's strange. She shut the window earlier - didn't she? But now it's open.
There's another growl of thunder, louder this time.
She opens her eyes, groggy still from her afternoon nap.
More lightning at the window, followed by a pause in the storm as the steady thud of rain becomes a downpour. She goes into the lounge to draw the curtains.
She stops.
That's strange. She shut the window earlier - didn't she? But now it's open.
#sea
#confusion
#mystery
434 reads
6 Comments
The Night Is Cold
october
grey ascends over the horizon
muggy sky
a hint of humidy
the days are shorter
evening arrives earlier than before
winter is coming
the sun sets
outside birds normally chatty settle for the night
cold
night falls like a heavy blanket
winter approaches
grey ascends over the horizon
muggy sky
a hint of humidy
the days are shorter
evening arrives earlier than before
winter is coming
the sun sets
outside birds normally chatty settle for the night
cold
night falls like a heavy blanket
winter approaches
#night
#nature
374 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lozzamus