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


Friday, September 30, 2011

OZLAND Picture Stories - Your Inspiration for September 2011

Your inspiration for September by ariadenise Bellic

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Picking up the Pieces - by Raphaela Palmer


His death was soul destroying, at least it was as far as I was concerned. I knew it was going to happen but that didn’t make it any easier. The death of someone you love is always difficult, watching them die and knowing there is nothing you can do about it is far worse. Four years of training, Five years as a qualified nurse and I still couldn’t help him. Uncle George’s death was slow; cancer is a horrible way to die. I remember the day we got the diagnosis, - it was his birthday.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Vantage Point (continuation of the Blended series) by Zhu Juran

Vantage Point (continuation of the Blended series) by Zhu Juran

Slowly he opened his eyes and as he did, the dream receded just beyond his reach. He was completely disoriented; he’d never seen this room before. Suddenly people came rushing at him; he shrank away and tried to run but found he couldn’t move. He tried to wave his arms to keep them away but his arms were so heavy, he couldn’t lift them. In a full panic now, words slowly began to filter through to his brain: Awake? Awake! Doctor..blood pressure spiking...shhhhhhhh you’re okay you’re safe we won’t hurt you you’re in a hospital shhhhhhh. He closed his mouth abruptly, suddenly aware that the screaming sound was coming from him. Deliberately slowing his breathing, he forced himself to look around at these people he didn’t know. They looked concerned, not threatening, and one was telling all the others to leave for now. Thank goodness, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold his breath!

Cry of a Lost Child - By Lillian Morpork

Black as a raven's wing,
Darker than midnight,
There is a fearsome thing
Taking away all light.
Moon behind clouds hiding,
There is no starlight;
Alone, to myself I cling,
Cow'ring in fright.

The Spirit Dancers - by Lillian Morpork

Jonny Sun Dancer checked on the fire, making sure it was properly banked, checked the oil lamp to be sure it was in a safe spot, did up his parka and picked up his big bear-skin blanket. Quietly, he slipped out of the tepee, leaving his Grand Aunt Sally Running Deer and his two young siblings sleeping. Once outside, he carefully closed and fastened the flap, and set out for the big, brightly lit tent, where his grandfather lay dying. Once there, he settled down on the piece of log he had placed earlier in the day, wrapped the bear-skin around himself, and waited, fighting back the tears.

Chalk Lashes: A Modern Tragedy by Tami

Chalk Lashes: A Modern Tragedy by Tami

Standing at the chalkboard, the child does as the teacher asks. Carefully, using lots and lots of colours, a face is drawn, starting with the eyes. They are amazing, just like all the beautiful girls in the catalogues -- with really long, thick, lush lashes. A nose is added, but before the lips can be drawn, the child stops. It's a beautiful, pretty, girls face and the child knows, with a sense of understanding few will ever achieve, that the face is a dream beyond attainment. So, tears are drawn instead of the mouth. The teacher asks why, but the child has learned not to talk about feelings and answers, "just because."

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Lullabye to a Wild Child (Rusty's Lullabye) by Avialla Resident

Lullabye to a Wild Child (Rusty's Lullabye) by Avialla Resident

You were rocked in the cradle of the misty night.

The Manor House by Lillian Morpork

The Manor House by Lillian Morpork

Down the long laneway,
Dim, though a bright day.
Surrounded by lawns unmown,
Gardens with weeds o’er grown;
A house full of tears.

Never Regret Love by Zhu Juran

Never Regret Love by Zhu Juran

"He comes back to tell me he’s gone, as if I didn’t know that, as if I didn’t know my own bed” - Paul Simon

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Prodigy by Tami

Prodigy by Tami

"O.K. now kitten, I want you to draw your face."

"But why, mommy? I don't wanna draw a face. I don't even wanna do this stupid art. Why do I gotta?"

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

PI poem 2 by Lillian Morpork

PI poem 2 by Lillian Morpork

Two caterpilars crawl
over

A Stillicide of Tears by Zhu Juran

A Stillicide of Tears by Zhu Juran

stillicide /ˈstɪlɪsʌɪd/
noun
Water falling in drops, especially in a row from the eaves of a roof.

Pi 3 - by Lillian Morpork

Toronto's star struck.
TIFF
is here. many stars
around town.
the biggest star of all was an elephant
strolling down the middle of Yonge Street

The Caterpillars - by lillian Morpork

All of the insects, birds and small creatures in the forest were hurrying to find shelter. They knew that a big storm was coming, and it would be very dangerous for small things to be out in it. The two furry caterpillars, Tic and Tac, were slowly working their way along the branch of a Jimson weed, trying their best to hurry. But they had been nibbling at the plant as they went, and it was great! They were having a grand time.

Memories of a song - by Sven Pertelson

Late, in a dark night,
Sleep eludes me.
Tears come unbidden,
Thoughts of happier times.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Explorations: Part 2 of an Ongoing Saga by Tami and Trybil

Explorations: Part 2 of an Ongoing Saga by Tami  and Trybil

So here I am, flapping my ears as I hover here, watching the circus below me. Just don't call me Dumbo, or you will regret it. So much has happened, in not so many turns of the world I created...

The Mystery of Wilmot by Tami

The Mystery of Wilmot by Tami

In the town of Wilmot, in the hills of Eastern Pennsylvania, near a valley they call the Grand Canyon, a mystery lies unsolved. One fateful night, when the clouds hung low and the town was shrouded in a blanket of mist, five peace loving, law abiding citizens went missing. Though the police and fire departments scoured the hills and volunteer divers combed the rivers, no bodies were found. Today, 48 years, 3 months, and 7 days later, only I and my siblings, and soon you, know what truly happened. It is not a secret and I will tell all who ask, but nobody has asked. Now, as my daughter, you will be initiated into a select group as you too learn the dreadful truth.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Daddy's Tears by Suta Northman

Daddy's Tears by Suta Northman

I sit here, tears slowly falling down my face, my memories of the past slowly come into place. With each tear that falls I recall the joy and happiness and pain as a daddy, of the good times and the bad.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Sing me to Sleep by lillian Morpork

Sing me to Sleep by lillian Morpork

“Sing me to sleep, Iya (Grandmother), I am so sad,” Temi sniffed back tears as she pleaded with her grandmother. Grandmother took the little girl’s hand in hers, and brushed the tears from her cheeks.

Frisbee Time by Zhu Juran

Frisbee Time by Zhu Juran

Zola wiped her eyes. This HAD to stop, this crying, or she was going to ruin her career. You couldn’t be the world’s foremost eyelash model with puffy red eyes. While “eyelash model” didn’t seem like a real job even, she had made quite a nice life for herself being just that. She was constantly in demand for commercials, live shoots, body doubles (if you could call it that), and most CGI was modeled after HER eyelashes. They were that good.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Saturday, September 3, 2011

GENTLE TEARS by STARDOVE SPIRIT

GENTLE TEARS by STARDOVE SPIRIT

GENTLE TEARS STREAM DOWN MY FACE
LOVES WASTED YEARS
A FALL FROM GRACE

Thursday, September 1, 2011

"The Birth of Venus" by Trybil and Tami

"The Birth of Venus" by Trybil and Tami

I try to open my eyes, but I can't. It is as if they aren't there. Or, maybe they are open and there literally is nothing to see. I'm not sure how this could happen. The lack of anything is truly unnerving. If I am in total darkness then it would be familiar or at least understandable. However, this total nothingness is unlike anything I can possibly imagine. Perhaps this is how a blind person experiences the world. Am I blind then?