Writing Prompt ~ 11th September 2018

 I came across this photograph writing prompt on WordPress and I thought I would give it a try…….



By John Yeo

  Lucy was an orphan consigned to the St Teresa’s Monastery for her care at an early age.
When asked what her earliest memory was Lucy would reply with a one-word answer ‘Tears.’
  A hard worker with an ever willing way with her, Lucy melded into the Monastery background and she would have passed through her early years quite happily.
Lucy had one cross to bear during her early days in the shape of Sister Agnes. A tall gaunt Nun with narrow gimlet eyes and a vicious slit in her jowls that masqueraded as a mouth. The harsh cruel voice that emanated from this monster was enough to frighten the poor orphans into submission.
  Sister Agnes was a bully who delighted in pushing Lucy and the other children as hard as she could.
  The remainder of the Nuns, on the whole, were gentle and caring for their charges and did their best to make life as nice as possible under the circumstances. Sister Agnes was always careful not to let anyone see her when she picked on the children.
One morning Lucy was scrubbing and mopping the floor in the laundry and happily chatting away to her friend, Judy. Both girls were unaware a hush had descended around them until it was too late.
Sister Agnes had entered the laundry and had her piercing gimlet eyes firmly fixed on Lucy.

  ‘What’s this? Don’t you realize you are in a Holy place? Silence is required at all times here, especially when you are supposed to be working. Lucy! Who were you talking to? I will be punishing you both severely for this.”

 Lucy looked up and stuttered, ‘Nobody, Sister Agnes, I was talking to myself, I have a twin inside me who I speak to often.’

    Sister Agnes looked shocked and said, ‘I don’t believe you girl. If you refuse to name the other person I will punish you double.’

  Lucy shook her head and said, ‘There wasn’t anybody else involved.’

  ‘Right said Sister Agnes you will be shut in the dark cupboard for two days without food or drink. You are a rude disrespectful girl who deserves all she gets. I will be reporting you to the Mother Superior.’

  Lucy was locked in a tiny dark broom cupboard and her tears flowed unstoppably. Frightened she beat on the inside of the door with her fists until her hands were covered in blood. Soon she gave up and slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
Another world slowly opened in her consciousness. A dreamscape where she walked on a sea of fire. Huge black birds became visible, one perched on her shoulders. Lucy found herself in a fury searching for Sister Agnes. She came upon a familiar figure burning in the flames. Sister Agnes was burning in the furious flames of Lucy’s imagination. Lucy tried to drag her from the flames without success and realized she was too late and nothing could be done.
  A loud click seemed to penetrate her dream as Lucy woke to the sound of the door opening.
  The Mother Superior entered the cupboard and took Lucy into her arms.
   ‘Come out now my child, we know what’s been going on. Your friend Judy confessed she was chatting to you and I have forgiven you both.’

  Lucy blinked as the daylight hit her tearful eyes.
‘What about Sister Agnes? I’m frightened of her and what she will do to me.’

  The Mother Superior looked grave.
   ‘Don’t worry Lucy, Sister Agnes has gone to another place where she will never bully you again.’
  Police converged on the monastery to investigate the unexplained death of one of the Nuns who had suddenly burst into flames and burned to death.
 Later, an inquest into the death of Sister Agnes was held and her death was judged as unexplained.
 Lucy was never as happy as she had been in her childhood. She took holy orders and became a Nun, praying for the forgiveness of the sins of herself and others.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved




I came upon this interesting Writing Prompt on WordPress and I decided to have a fling with my vivid imagination. Welcome to the Gardeners Universe.


The Mystery of the nibbled Lettuces

by John Yeo

The news traveled slowly in the nocturnal world of the vegetable garden. The higher caste Snails were up in arms about a serious loss of food reserves in the kitchen garden.  There was clear evidence of unwanted, uninvited Gastropods invading and raiding the reserve food supplies. The elders called an emergency meeting to lock horns and discuss the situation. After some heated debate……Horace Hardshell rose to address the assembled elders. ‘Brothers and Sisters, we must do something about this villainy without delay or our children will go hungry. I suggest we send in a couple of battalions of our shell-free Slugs to lie in wait and protect our interests.’

 There was a murmur of agreement among the assembled high caste committee. A lone voice came from the rear of the meeting.

‘Fellow Gastro’s, let me introduce myself, my name is Slimy Sid, I’m a renowned crime-fighter with good references and a hundred percent record of case solution. I guarantee success in solving this mystery and in my first case I will work for you for free and I’ll soon get to the bottom of this outrage.’

All Shells were turned to the back of the compost heap where this important meeting was in process. There were surprised murmurs of assent as most of the assembled Slugs and Snails nodded with their horns.

The honourable slime-shelled elder Gastropod enquired. ‘How do you propose to do this single-handedly?’

I will l lie in wait among the Lettuces and watch, then follow the trails of slime and you will then be able to send in the shell-free Slug troops to exterminate the invaders. ‘

There was a universal instant agreement to this plan and later that night Slimy Sid could be found slowly making his way along the garden path.

Suddenly a huge foot came down on him as the gardener arrived to check on the growth of his Lettuces. Then followed the sickening sound of a crunch and a sudden squelch and sadly Slimy Sid was no more. At the next meeting of the high caste gastropods, a service of remembrance was held in honour of the brave crime-fighting Snail, Slimy Sid.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

25h November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 25

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 25

By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 25, 2016

For today’s prompt, write a tape poem. The poem could be about transparent tape, duct tape, video tape, or even tape worm. Anything that you can bend into a tape poem is fair game.


Image from the net


by John Yeo

Gwendolyn sat stately in her study;
A robber entering through the sliding door,
Brushes at hand poised and almost ready.

Her easel was set up firm and steady.
The villain approached silently and sure;
Gwendolyn sat stately in her study.

Gwendolyn thought this shade far too ruddy ;
The figure crept across the shiny floor.
Brushes at hand poised and almost ready.

The artist picked a gun up carefully;
Two hands reached out as she began to draw,
Gwendolyn sat stately in her study.

She felt the rough tape cross her mouth tightly,
She coolly fired once, then once more.
Gwendolyn sat stately in her study
Brushes at hand poised and almost ready.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

10th November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 10

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 10
By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 10 2016

For today’s prompt, write a tragic poem. Two courses of action here: Write a poem that is heavy, or write a poem that is light. Or write a poem that could be heavy or light. For instance, a tragedy could be Shakespeare’s Hamlet or a bad hair day.


Image © Copyright John and Margaret


by John Yeo

Tragedy a situation that can be woven into verse?
Not a difficult question for the power of the pen.
Read the question closely, memorise every word.
Take whatever comes into mind and spin it.
I remember a friend I made on the internet once,
A creative poet with a magical mind.
I would wake every day and devour his work
Then we would take time, to greet each other.


The poetic spells he had woven overnight
Were gems of wisdom and poetic thought.
With the communication of his imagination
He became a friend, a guide and an inspiration.
Slowly his verse became darker and darker;
My friend was living on borrowed time.
A terminal evil began to darken his verse
As he described in poetry his fight for life.


One deep, black moment before the dawn,
I looked for my friend but his magic was gone.
Gone to new horizons to record infinity,
A comet travelling through the universe
Swamped in the starmud of eternal time.
As dawn suffocated the starlight completely
I knew my friend had breathed his last.
Leaving a brilliant legacy of poetic tragedy.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

8th November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 8

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 8
By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 8, 2016 

For today’s prompt, we’re on our second two-for-Tuesday prompt. So pick one, combine both prompts into one poem, or write two (or more) different poems. Here are the prompts:

Write a nothing will be the same poem. A poem about moment after which nothing will ever be the same, because everything will change. Or…
Write a nothing will ever change poem. Maybe you’re in the camp of “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” So while things change, they don’t–not really. Or do they? How can things change and not change? I’m confusing myself.

Image © Copyright John and Margaret 


by John Yeo

Did your physicality leave?
I never began to understand.
Everything seems the same.
I expect you to walk in anytime.
The influences we shared together
Habitual pleasures blended.
The TV’s tuned to the same stations
I never liked that show.
I watch it, though, just in case.
Life goes on in strange uncertainty.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


Image © Copyright ~John and Margaret


by John Yeo

I hadn’t noticed the subtlety of alteration
Things moved so slowly almost invisibly
Slowly and malevolently the evil relation
Of the different aspects began to affect me.


Weakness, tiredness, were insidious clues
Leading to a rapid health deterioration.
After numerous tests came shocking news
My grave-faced Doctor held my attention.


“I’m sorry to say you have contracted cancer,
An incurable tumor has grown out of control.
The growth is speedy and very advanced.
We will use every treatment to fight this evil”


I sat shattered, rigid with shock at the finality
Of this diagnosis, “How long have I got?”
The Doctor just shook his head in reply.
“There will always be hope, we won’t give up.”


I held my head in my hands at this bombshell
The insidious growth that was inside my brain
Would defeat the slim hope of becoming well.
My life would never be the same again.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.




Image © Copyright John and Margaret

For today’s prompt, write a memory poem. This is one of my favorite poem starters, not only because it’s a great way to mine for material–by looking at memories–but it can also be a great way to remember things previously forgotten. I’ve found that just taking a few moments to remember one thing lead to remembering something else and so on.

Of course, the memories in your memory poem don’t have to be yours, and they don’t even have to be true. So however you come at this, I hope it leads to a memorable poem.


by John Yeo

You say you will never return here
Whatever led you to believe that?
Do you realise that is impossible,
If death ends all, how could it be?
Your essence will always be here.
A faint trace of being, never leaves
Once your soul is set physically free.
There is no return to somewhere.
That you will never actually leave.


Your essence is always integrated
In everything you ever achieved.
Many strands of your life entwined
With the overall essence of others
Your life touched many other lives
In many interesting amalgamation
Of patterns and mutual integration.
Impressions of unseen variation
Memories of your previous incarnation.

New memories replacing the old
In a continual flow of life in motion.


Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.


Writing 101

One-word inspiration

Prompts come in many different forms. Sometimes, a single word is all you need to get your mind’s wheels turning. Here are six words:







Select one word in this list that speaks to you in some way.



by John Yeo

  After a minimum period of thought devoted to all the words on this list. I’m still very much in two minds about my selection. Should I have chosen one of the positive words such as Home or Love, happily my answers would have been very predictable and of no general interest whatsoever to my general readers. I have decided to focus on the word UNCERTAINTY, this I feel will add a certain edge to my blog post.


by John Yeo

 As we go through our lives unfortunately everything rests on uncertainty. The only certainty in life is the uncomfortable knowledge that at some point we are going to die. Then the uncertainty kicks in with a vengeance,
How long will our life last? This is the question that is filled with many shades of uncertainties depending on how we have lived, how healthy we are! Our hereditary genetic makeup is a huge factor in our lifespan, have we inherited the seeds of our own destruction?
Even our birth is a huge uncertainty, the circumstances we are born into, our family and the availability of fresh water and sufficient food.
 If we are blessed with a long span of life, another huge uncertainty is the state of our minds and bodies as we age. Our mortality is a very fragile concept that is riddled with much uncertainty.
Then the ultimate uncertainty of all. Will we survive after death having to account for all our transgressions?
 A firm almost certain way through life, is to survive as happily as we can. Living freely in our own very individual circumstances, taking care of one another and following the examples of those who have passed on.
 One counter to the enormously unsettling uncertainty of life, is to have faith and listen well, to those who have studied hard to gain some answers, by following the ancient patterns of thought as recorded throughout the history of this civilised world.
 Therefore the only antidote to the the huge certainty of our personal death seems to be….. Live in Peace and be gentle with yourself. Reach out to others. Follow the path and be happy, and above all have Faith!
Surely we are not facing these huge uncertainties for nothing… ???


IMAGE © John and Margaret


by John Yeo

The wise man sat under an Apple tree
Staring into space.
A young girl approached and smiled.
“Are you really happy?”
Silence was a deafening curtained box
The blossom fell to the ground.
Breaking the silence noiselessly.

“My mummy says my daddy will die
Then he will be free
Of the terrible pains that torture him.
Will he be happy?”
The wise man smiled, “No-one knows
This truth little one,
Death is the only real certainty in life.

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.