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
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 8: A Dangerous Person
#abuse
#memories
#risk
233 reads
3 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 7: Mixed Blessings
School offered little respite - apart from the chance to play the piano in the main hall sometimes. Early on, I became locked in a cycle that usually began with someone teasing me and ended with me losing my temper. I would get frustrated and hurl objects around or rip the buttons off my shirt, largely because I didn’t have adequate skills to articulate frustration. During a needlework lesson towards the end of my first year, three boys in the class kept provoking me until I reached for a wooden item and hurled it at the window. Fortunately, the glass didn’t shatter.
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I...
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I...
#childhood
#family
#memories
250 reads
5 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 6: Family Tension
The daily bus journeys to school were beginning to prove tiring, so my parents moved home, closer to the school. A couple of streets away from the new house stood the tallest factory chimney in Europe. Further on was a secluded muddy trail that weaved its way through playing fields, back onto the main road – ideal for walking the dog. The hill on the opposite side of the main road led up to a grass summit with a pylon visible from our backyard. In the other direction, a pathway rose up another hill with cottages set back from the lane, leading to several miles of fields and farms, hemmed in...
#childhood
#family
#misunderstood
350 reads
5 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 5: Aloof From My Peers
I attended a Jewish High school in the north of England that bore a vague resemblance to the kids from the Beverly Hills. Our family weren’t rich - and therefore, I didn’t belong socially. In time, I would face a new issue that marked me as different: labels I hadn’t paid attention to before. Remedial. Autistic. Slow. Educationally Subnormal.
The first day passed uneventfully, though, and I found myself looking forward to going back the next day. Carrying a briefcase of my own gave me a strong sense of pride and I soon got used to the routine of making my way to a different...
The first day passed uneventfully, though, and I found myself looking forward to going back the next day. Carrying a briefcase of my own gave me a strong sense of pride and I soon got used to the routine of making my way to a different...
#rejection
#childhood
#school #memories
#school #memories
362 reads
6 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 4: Bad Behaviour
Four years to your Barmitzvah,’ people would say upon asking my age. I’d turned nine - meaning I had four years to get ready. A Barmitzvah takes place when a Jewish boy reaches thirteen. It’s a sort of coming of age, a reading of the Torah in front of the community – a debut, for want of a better word. Some boys fear messing up, but that hardly ever happens.
Twice a week after school, and on Sundays mornings, my parents took Robin and I to Cheder classes. At Cheder, I learnt the Hebrew alphabet. I learnt that the word sefer meant book and that the word kelev meant dog. That a...
Twice a week after school, and on Sundays mornings, my parents took Robin and I to Cheder classes. At Cheder, I learnt the Hebrew alphabet. I learnt that the word sefer meant book and that the word kelev meant dog. That a...
#rejection
#childhood
#family #memories
#family #memories
366 reads
4 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 3: Undercurrents Of Disquiet
A year or so passed. My older brother Brian started at a prestigious school, but my middle brother Robin and I struggled, both at school and at home. We had phobias. We’d hide when my mother used to the blender in the kitchen, running from the sound that filled the house with its frightening and echoing din. We had repetitive nightmares about ghosts, the same nightmare with similar characters.
In one dream, we found ourselves playing drums in a band that the ghosts had organised, and I remember the bedroom being obscured in some way – foggy perhaps, even though the light was on. ...
In one dream, we found ourselves playing drums in a band that the ghosts had organised, and I remember the bedroom being obscured in some way – foggy perhaps, even though the light was on. ...
#childhood
#family
#memories #misunderstood
#memories #misunderstood
340 reads
4 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just - Part 2: Safer Times
Boys,’ my mother called. ‘Time for Kiddish.’
A Friday evening. A Jewish family about to welcome in the weekly Sabbath. Bathed and dressed for the occasion, my middle brother Robin and I filed into the dining room to hear our father recite the prayers from a dark blue book called the Siddur. A bottle of homemade wine stood on the table, along with a goblet for the wine, a collection of skullcaps that Jewish males wear during prayer and a cloth with embroidered Hebrew lettering to cover the two loaves of bread, the Chollahs.
Our family consisted of five: parents and...
A Friday evening. A Jewish family about to welcome in the weekly Sabbath. Bathed and dressed for the occasion, my middle brother Robin and I filed into the dining room to hear our father recite the prayers from a dark blue book called the Siddur. A bottle of homemade wine stood on the table, along with a goblet for the wine, a collection of skullcaps that Jewish males wear during prayer and a cloth with embroidered Hebrew lettering to cover the two loaves of bread, the Chollahs.
Our family consisted of five: parents and...
#childhood
#family
#memories
367 reads
9 Comments
I Escaped, But Only Just: Part 1: A Recurring Dream
Buildings resembling cashew nuts. A church spire, matching in colour. A hill. I float restlessly, down the hill, past the brown-reddish buildings.
The people have come for me. After all these years, they've tracked me down. They find me in the front room of a house. My home.
It's over. The ringleader strikes me across the face. A backhander. It's years since anyone did that.
They leave. Or, at least, I think they do. Nothing seems certain anymore.
A few houses down, people sit in a square or a circle, praying.
Afterwards, these...
The people have come for me. After all these years, they've tracked me down. They find me in the front room of a house. My home.
It's over. The ringleader strikes me across the face. A backhander. It's years since anyone did that.
They leave. Or, at least, I think they do. Nothing seems certain anymore.
A few houses down, people sit in a square or a circle, praying.
Afterwards, these...
#abuse
#bullying
#memories
236 reads
7 Comments
The Weeping House
I went up with the cello,
steering the instrument around the staircase,
to my bedroom on the first floor.
I had the largest room in the house,
overlooking fields and orchards.
It had a mattress against the far wall in place of a bed,
a writing desk with ink stains and a scratched surface,
a chair with loose legs,
an old-fashioned chest of drawers in the corner.
The curtains matched the carpet in colour.
A shelf that…
No,
I mustn’t remember the grey-white building that had stood secluded off a country lane.
An...
steering the instrument around the staircase,
to my bedroom on the first floor.
I had the largest room in the house,
overlooking fields and orchards.
It had a mattress against the far wall in place of a bed,
a writing desk with ink stains and a scratched surface,
a chair with loose legs,
an old-fashioned chest of drawers in the corner.
The curtains matched the carpet in colour.
A shelf that…
No,
I mustn’t remember the grey-white building that had stood secluded off a country lane.
An...
#mystery
#tragedy
#fear
277 reads
10 Comments
Guilty By Association
He coughs, clears his throat. ‘As I see it, we have two options. The best thing would be going to the police. But if we did…well, think about it. You wouldn’t want to be driven out, would you? You’re innocent in all this.’
Journalists surrounding them. Cameramen chasing them to the car. A woman with a mop of unkempt grey hair snarling that she hopes they all rot, spittle flying from her lips. Afterwards, they return to the village - to the whispers, the sniggers, the social isolation.
‘What’s the other option?’
‘The other option? You play...
Journalists surrounding them. Cameramen chasing them to the car. A woman with a mop of unkempt grey hair snarling that she hopes they all rot, spittle flying from her lips. Afterwards, they return to the village - to the whispers, the sniggers, the social isolation.
‘What’s the other option?’
‘The other option? You play...
#LifeStruggles
#mystery
251 reads
8 Comments
When I Was Homeless
When I was homeless
I felt lost at sea
stranded in the middle of an ocean
surrounded by water and hostile sky
sometimes a helicopter would approach from afar
the propeller rising in volume
- rescue at last
only for the helicopter to pass over
disappearing from sight
a week passed
then another
a month
six weeks
I still had nowhere to live
I stayed in cheap hotels
plundering my savings
each day fear lodged deep in my body
gnawing away as it promised ruin and destruction
...
I felt lost at sea
stranded in the middle of an ocean
surrounded by water and hostile sky
sometimes a helicopter would approach from afar
the propeller rising in volume
- rescue at last
only for the helicopter to pass over
disappearing from sight
a week passed
then another
a month
six weeks
I still had nowhere to live
I stayed in cheap hotels
plundering my savings
each day fear lodged deep in my body
gnawing away as it promised ruin and destruction
...
#anxiety
#homelessness
#FeelingLost
464 reads
5 Comments
Update: Home
My new home
#home
#peace
321 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lozzamus