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Fiona Lokot
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Creative Writing
Creative Writing
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Fiona Lokot
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in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritūs Sancti
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ramblings on a sunny spring day
maybe I will let the words fall out a torrent of pent-up thoughts caught for so long in my heart with nowhere else to go already treading d…
miracles
my countless reasons for my unworthiness listed in cold ink and sharp clarity
path of life
the solitude of mystic wanderings
prove me wrong
something is terribly wrong within me, with me
sunrise over swamps
Winter sunrise. / Cold and dark. / The swirl of deep blue storm clouds rushing across the horizon, framed by bare-branched trees. / It is c…
what I saw when I saw myself just standing there
(a response to a photograph) / The old battle resurfaced, the familiar surge of hatred. Self-directed contempt, that burning vitriol, that …
untitled (lifted from my journal)
Be merciful, I beg you / You know that I am dust / and broken soul fragments / bound together by a fragile spirit / floundering my way thro…
The Narcissist
here I am again / confronting them / with myself / again / look at me / again again… / what’s the point, again? / burning expre…
further lamentations and frustrations: ode to ano…
I died a thousands deaths because of him. / Though he slay me, it was never really his fault – / the way he invaded my dreams / so t…
running from the heart’s desires
this was the time of my escape / but it is better if I leave you now / I had my glimpse of hope / my taste of passion / wonder and joy…
dreaming in the daylight
dreaming / of sun-washed fields and windswept grasses / lonely open expanses and summer-brown pastures / grazing cattle on a far hillside /…
Monster
the blood running down my hands and arms reminds me / that I am only one choice away from becoming a monster
Love: I was not made for this
In the harsh light of day, as the sun chases away the outlandish fictions of my heart / (those cruel tormentors that whisper hopeful lies) …
dying on the inside losing hope
Hasty decisions led to a lifetime’s bondage. / I collapse in the gravity of long-past choices / And see a grey future before me. / A…
III. He Said I Could Never Be Happy In This Place…
We sat by the silver stream, watching the clouds drift across the caerulean expanse of a kind sky. It was quiet, more peaceful here. / He l…
II. He Let Me Hold His Hand – 2 of 3
It was hard travelling with him. He moved so quickly and easily in the soft, shifting sands and over rough, sharp grass and rocks. Sometime…
I. He Left Me To Die Here – 1 of 3
When I finally opened my eyes, it was into the searing white heat of a desert landscape. Sun-bleached stones and striated mesas came into f…
Convincing Myself: I Can Wait
In the long lonely months of solitude / In the broken scattered sunlight breaking through the tangled dead canopy / Watching the years fade…
Love and Torture Are The Same Thing
You’ve tangled yourself in the thorns and briers of my messy soul / And as you pulled away you ripped it out of me, and / Left me wo…
Waiting for a rescuer? Lonely. Again.
Crickets drone and dogs bark / and music plays on the radio / and blackbirds sing. / The wind is picking up / and the sun is going down. /…
My Swamp; Or, a moment of paranoia
It’s lonely here in the swamp. / Only frogs and waterbirds for company / and it’s not like they can talk with me. / What does a…
Stand Off? A lament on distance and separation
Two figures standing face to face but separate. / A drift of dandelion seeds stirring in the space between us. / The light here is pale gre…
Out the Window -almost summer
Fresh warmth of late spring scents / Sky fading from violet to pastel blue and yellow / The clouds finally roll in after blazing heat / And…
Lamentations of a bored woman
The girl sits in the shade and doesn’t let the sun burn her pale skin. / She sips tea and reads novels and plants flowers. / She wear…
The Destruction of the Swamp
I grieved when the swamp trees were cut down. The trees razed to make way for cattle. In the marshy soil where nothing grew but snakes and …
Imaginary Musings On Companionable Immersion In N…
Tuesday, 19 October 2010 / In the quiet peace of an isolated hillside, as sunset fades and the stars blink into view, / I lie still in the …
Musings: I feel like there’s a point to my …
Monday 4 October 2010 / The heady pursuit of something new: it drains and weakens me. I become ineffectual and tired / and more alive than …
Dreamscapes: escaping from the crowd to the sea
3 October 2010 / From a dream I had a few years ago. / Ivy covered door hidden in a cleft in the hillside. Above it are the electricity pyl…
Poetic Musings: An Ode To Tofu
Oh, thy spongy textures and lattic’d innards, / coated in rich black bean sauce. / You satisfy my inmost parts with your high protein…
Trying to recapture my childhood through creativi…
25-April-2010 / F. Lokot. / What am I trying to create, anyway? / Sometimes it feels as though my creative efforts coalesce and merge into …
Two young magpies on my front lawn
5-03-2010 / Two young magpies watched me step out of the car. One of them was busy pecking at something in the grass. The other eyed me and…
Sitting on the bed on an early autumn afternoon
4-03-2010 / Wrapped in swathes of languorous ethereal music and dreamy scents of roses and a chorus of birdsong while the leaves take on ti…
Something about peering into a person’s soul
2010-01-02 / Lover and monster. / My desire to read the soul. / What words exist within the frame I see before me? / I would rip you open i…
A family reunion: reflections
2010-01-02 / The visitors’ centre is busy today. / Children rummage through boxes of plush toy horses. / History books line the shelv…
The Phantom of the Opera: or, the house that won&…
2009-07-01 / Musings on The Phantom of the Opera, rainy days and romance. / Scattered showers fall on the wild, windy day. The grey clouds …
Late On A Rainy Friday Night
15 May 2009 11:11 PM / I’m sure it’d be easier to write if circumstances were nicer. If the sounds coming in my window were merely the rain…
Easter Story
1 May 2009 / Easter Story / A great cross stands tall upon a dark mountaintop. As the sun begins to rise the sky turns red and black clouds…
Ice Cream: Memories Of The Latrobe Valley
Brisk evening turns to chilled night, and the brilliant hues of sunset are lost in ink black. The haze and clouds from the power stations m…
morality
What use is outward good behaviour if the mind is darkened by hatred? Change the inside first, and the outside is bound to follow.
mediaeval fair
The cutest couple I saw that day – fully costumed. Girl in a mediaeval princess costume, all laced and long skirts and flowing hair. …
bats
The bats were noisy last night, / Screeching and fighting in the big tree, / Heavily winging across the full moon. / It seemed too cliched …
pondering
if every choice i make today / is shaping who i am, / i wonder what i will become / many years from now?
big black spot on the ceiling
I thought it was a spider / I’m glad it’s just a moth / [On the perils of being shortsighted in a dimly lit room and not able t…