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


Wednesday, May 30, 2012

My Garden by Lillian Morpork

I went into the garden,
Where the bright red poppies grow,
The baby’s breath and cosmos,
And carnations, row on row.
And I sat beside the rosebush
In the lovely summer’s glow
And I thought I saw a fairy –
Or perhaps, a faint rainbow.



I sat so still, and held my breath,
And soon I knew for sure
It was a fairy, and she danced
To music, sweet and pure.
She was just not any fairy,
Dressed in gown of silk azure;
‘Twas Titania,Queen of Fairies!
I was caught by her allure.

She danced and twirled in circles,
Flew high, then down she swooped,
A crazy, happy, silly clown,
She swirled and looped-the-loop.
Then suddenly the court was there,
The entire fairy troop;
Faintly I heard their laughter –
They were a merry group.

King Oberon came and joined them
And the dance became a ball;
Everything was formal,
And decorum ruled them all.
He saw that I was watching,
With a wave, he drew a pall
Over the entire garden,
And the fairies’ lovely ball.



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