What are Ozlandish Writings?

From July 2010 to December 2014 we ran OZLAND PICTURE STORIES as described below. Sadly though the number of writers reduced over the years and we decided to call it a day. We leave these as a record of the good times we had.

Are "You" ready to challenge your writing skills? Then participate in our OZLAND Picture Stories writing series at The Ozland Art Gallery.

Each month a new picture will be picked, from our OZLAND Artist of the Month collection, with different themes. Your goal is to write a 500-1000 word... poem... essay... or story about the picture picked. This is a chance for you to challenge your writing skills each month. Story can be written in ANY genre... sci fi... romance... ghost... fantasy... fiction... non-fiction... biography... mystery... historical... whatever your writing genre... feel free to experiment. Send your writing inworld to Sven Pertelson as a notecard to have it included on the web site. We meet at the The Ozland Art Gallery each Wednesday at Noon and 6pm SLT to read the latest submissions on voice. More Information

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Monday, December 27, 2010

Rover’s Christmas Surprise - by lillian Morpork

Rover ran full tilt at his door, needing to get outside fast. He’d had an unusually big, and delicious meal, and his stomach was overloaded. He put his head down and aimed at the door flap, hit....and was sitting back on his haunches, with a pain in his head. ‘What’s wrong?’ he barked. ‘Why is my flap locked?’ Shaking his head, he stood up and looked at his master. ‘Why the miserable creature, he’s laughing! Doesn’t he know that HURT?’ Rover whined, and stood staring up. ‘Why did you lock my door?’ he rumbled. His master reached over and stroked the dog’s head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed,” he said. “But it did look funny. Come on, I’ll let you out the front door. This one is frozen shut.”

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Christmas - by lillian Morpork

The winter cold is here, wind blows,
Fingers nearly frozen, so's my nose.
Sidewalks all slushy, slippery walking.
Have to mail those Christmas parcels
Buy some sweet tasty Christmas morsels.
Listen to sweet voices carol singing,
All done now, I can take my rest,
Wishes sent to those I love best.
Hearing all the church bells ringing.

A Nove Otto poem - 9 lines of 8 syllables, rhyme scheme aac bbc ddc

Gone? - and - Island Winter - by lillian Morpork

Gone ?

Christmas decorations
Shining brightly on the
Fence and door.
The house is empty

Island Winter

Wind is blowing
Waves are growing bigger, wilder,
Spray and water reaching the house.
Soon all is covered in ice.

These two are Naani poems an Indian style. 15 to 25 syllables in 4 lines, with a thought break between second and third or third and fourth

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

There's no place like HOME! By Llola Lane

Alone and frightened the little bear sat and wondered WHY on earth he had allowed his brothers and sisters to talk him into playing hide and seek? He thought this little ice cave was a safe hiding place. How did he know the earth would shake from under him and break it off into the cold ocean? NOW... how was he going to get home?

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - by lillian Morpork

“Dad, Bethy and I want to take the plane over to the island with the cousins for a winter picnic. Is that OK? I thought, if it is, we could check and see if there are any last minute supplies we could take for Phineas and Phoebe. Richard Pringle looked st his father, trying to hide his eagerness, and waited. James Pringle eyed his son closely, and suddenly realised that he was no longer a little boy. Richard was now able to look him straight in the eyes - he had become a young adult. Smothering a sigh at the thought, Jim gave a brief nod.

Monday, December 6, 2010

The Lonely House - by lillian Morpork

It stands, dark, quiet, alone
Blindly gazing out to sea.
No sounds but the sighing wind,
The seabirds, waves crashing on the rocks.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010


Star Light, Star Bright
The waves seem so white tonight!
Crashing in and out the shores
Bringing a cold mist to our doors.

A Christmas Gift - by lillian Morpork

Whisper Wallace staggered across the crunchy snow, so cold he could no longer shiver. This whole caper had gone wrong from the beginning, starting when he agreed to be in on it. Then Noisless Stalkerman had had to back out at the last minute due to a broken leg. Whisperer cursed to himself. If that fool hadn’t gone out drinking the night before they were to leave....! And the boat that was supposed to be available for their escape, when he found it, was sunk just offshore, with a big hole in it. Must have been wrecked on the rocks during the last big storm. And he had slipped on the rocks, and fallen flat in the icy water. He was soaked through.

Christmas on Cabbage Island - by Sven Pertelson

The red air ambulance was just starting up by the dock as I raised the flag from its half mast position. The chopper was taking the usual winter caretaker of Cabbage Island off to hospital in Lewiston where his broken hip could be treated. He was lucky that one of the passing fishermen from Boothbay on their last trip out before Christmas had noticed that the flag was not fully raised as normal.