CLOG DANCERS

Prompt response based on the word of the day ~ January 2017 ~ CLOG

http://daily.wordreference.com/2017/01/20/intermediate-word-of-the-day-clog/

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

CLOG DANCERS

By John Yeo

    Billy Bloggs in borrowed clogs joined the local clog dancing club. An assortment of seven other characters made up the group.
     Alex, Genevieve, Fanny and Mary were the ladies in the group; with James, Willie, and Tim. A wonderful assortment of characters it would be difficult to conjure up in the most fertile of imaginations.
All the dancers were dressed in black and a trio of musicians followed them about from place to place.

One memorable day there was a scream:

  “Help me!”
Startled; everyone rushed to the toilet to find Alex was trapped inside.
   “Help me please;” she begged, the bloody toilet is clogged up and the smell is overpowering.”
After much laughter and playful banter, Alex was released, unhappy to be the butt of cloggy jokes.
A plumber was called by the organisers who removed a clog of the unmentionable from the drain.

   Alex partnered James and they had a little mongrel dog, called Chum, who followed them relentlessly everywhere. A local fan had fashioned a tiny set of four doggy clogs and Chum was to be regularly seen clogging away. A skeptic once said the poor little pup was doing his best to get rid of these encumbrances.

     “How does he manage to cock his leg if he is hampered by an alien artifact?” asked a concerned bystander.

  Genevieve and Willie were very late one extraordinary day when the fete they were dancing in became so clogged up with visitors, they were unable to get away. Obviously, they pushed their way into the beer tent where they kicked off their clogs and let their long greasy lanks of hair down. Filling their discarded clogs with the strong beer they passed the time in an inebriated cloggers party.

   Billy’s friend Mary accompanied him during the dancing and they were both soon enjoying the experience enormously.
One day they took a bus into town and got stuck in a traffic jam the road was blocked, clogged up with traffic. When they finally reached their digs they were handed a bill by the landlady, Mrs. Jones who had called a plumber because they had blocked her sink and clogged it up with cooking fat.

     Tim partnered Fanny, Tim was a natural clog performer as he was a Dutchman; the Dutch wear clogs for everyday footwear. Fanny said he was the star of the show, who would walk a tightrope in clogs to win a bet.
  Tim would decorate some of his used Dutch clogs by painting them with oil paint drawing some amazing pictures with wonderful illustrations of windmills. These would then be sold for beer money and the whole group of clog dancers would party and celebrate.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

A HARD HORNED GOODBYE

Prompt response based on the word of the day ~ January 2017 ~ HORN

http://daily.wordreference.com/2017/01/10/intermediate-word-of-the-day-horn/

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

A Hard Horned Goodbye.

by John Yeo

   William was trapped by the horns of a dilemma. Mother was terminally ill and in terrible pain. He was shocked and annoyed: there wasn’t any way out. Mother was enduring slowly progressive levels of pain. The hospital staff were administering the strongest levels of pain-killing drugs that were available. Sadly his Mother was suffering an increasing painful experience as the illness slowly took a hold.

   “Why can’t you put her out of her misery? Just administer a drug that will allow her to slowly drift away from life, pain-free.” He begged the Doctors when they arrived to carry out a ward round.

  

    “Sorry Sir this is against the law and against our sworn code of ethics. This would be a contravention of the Hippocratic oath. Euthanasia is strictly illegal.” replied the Consultant.

  William just shed tears and ran from the ward, holding a hanky to his nose. A nurse followed him out;  “Come back!”

   William fled, visibly sobbing;  blowing his nose which sounded like a fog horn blasting out a warning on a foggy night.

    William rushed out into the hospital road and jumped back quickly as an ambulance driver sounded his horn.

   “Look where you are going!” came a shout from the driver.

     Jumping in his car William picked up a golden horn that was lying on the back seat and ceremoniously played the Last Post. An accomplished musician he was expressing deep feelings of anger and frustration the only way he could.

   Then he pulled himself together and picking up a parcel that he had left on the back seat earlier he returned to the ward, to find his Mother in a deep sleep. Her hair had been neatly combed by one of the nurses. Her personal comb made from horn, that was her pride and joy lay on the bedside table.

   His Mother woke shortly after and William unwrapped his parcel which was an ornamental horn, fashioned out of pure elephant ivory. Mothers eyes lit up;  even with the pain that was visibly racking through her body. The horned ornament was a small container filled with her favourite sherry. They both looked into each other’s eyes and made new bonds, a silent toast that loosened, yet cemented the life they had shared.

    William left the ward with tears in his eyes, knowing he would never see his Mother again.

  She just drifted away in the night peacefully,  William was glad she had gone naturally and was out if pain at last.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

DONNY

Prompt response based on the word of the day ~ January 2017 ~ SWING

http://daily.wordreference.com/2017/01/05/intermediate-word-of-the-day-swing/.

swing

Image Courtesy of pixabay.com

DONNY

by John Yeo

  

   When Donny was a young man he used to love going to the local park with his Father. Dad would push the seesaw up and down to give young Donny a ride, then push him down the slide. Donny would laugh and squeal for more, at the excitement of the moment.

   Donny’s favourite was easily the swing, he enjoyed the feeling of flying through the air and the uncertainty of this ride as his Daddy pushed him higher and higher. Swinging up and down with the momentum of magical uncertainty.

   “Higher, higher! I want the swing to be upwards. Ever higher! Please; Daddy.” Squealed the little fellow excitedly.

    On the way home, Father, who habitually walked along swinging his arms was emulated by little Donny, and soon both father and son were swinging along the road together all the way home.

  As the years passed by, Donny; now a young man spent three years at university studying economics. He became a member of a swinging rock group, playing a golden trumpet, a young rocker, always in the swing of the social scene. It was at a student ball when Donny met Maria, then after a whirlwind courtship, they were soon wed and happily married.

  In spite of the embarrassing situation that occurred when they discovered their neighbours were involved in a wife-swapping group. Swingers who hinted to our couple they would be welcome. An invitation that was rapidly declined.

Donny became a successful entrepreneur, wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. A man who was both liked and respected at home and in the world of finance.

  A keen golfer, it was rumoured he had a swing worthy of a professional,

  In his later years, Donny dabbled in politics and was soon in line to become the leader of the local political party. There had been a huge swing in public opinion and he was soon elected as leader of the party. Of course, there was opposition and a lot of sour grapes as his opposition had been a well-liked respected politician.

  One day a lone wolf gunman took a shot at Donny and missed killing a bodyguard.

   “You’ll swing for this! Swing on the end of a rope until you are dead! An eye for an eye.” Came several shouts from the crowd.

    Donny never did retire, he was always involved in some form of business operation.  His fortune depended on the swings of the temperamental stock exchange.

  He was found one day dead from a heart attack, swinging in a hammock in his beloved garden.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

21st November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 21

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 21

Day twenty-one

.

By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 21, 2016

For today’s prompt, write a thinking out loud poem. If you’ve ever been caught thinking out loud, this poem does that. If you haven’t done it yourself, chances are you know someone who thinks out loud; channel that today.

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

TALKING OUT LOUD

by John Yeo

We always knew when the twins were around
Peter would whistle, with a merry tune.
Paul would talk quietly to himself aloud
Their whole world was built on creative sound.

Hitting the heights with his every note
Peter courted his audience sublime
With joyful musical composition.

Paul became a writer transforming words
Rehearsing poetry and prose aloud
Vocalising and testing words out loud
Testing his thoughts on the listening birds.

Creative patterns of words and music
Together a symphony fantastic.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

WRITING 101 ~ DAY 15 ~ TAKE A CUE FROM YOUR READERS

Day 15 Assignment: Take a Cue From Your Readers

“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

Tell us about a time when a piece of music moved you.
Do you have an all-time favourite song? Why is it significant?
Compile a playlist of 10 tracks that represent you.

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‘The Bard”~ Image © John and Margaret

MUSICAL DRIFT

by John Yeo

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast.”
William Congreve.

“If music be the food of love, play on.”
William Shakespeare .

album cover lark

Image from the net

(1) THE LARK ASCENDING

   The piece of music that still gives rise to goosebumps whenever I hear it is the wonderful sound of, “The Lark Ascending,” a violin solo, composed by Ralph Vaughan-Williams. It was played at the time of death of someone who was very close to me.

  It was a very sad time for me, when I first heard this beautiful sound that resonated through my mind and reached deeply into my being. I sat listening entranced, as the violin brought pictures with a flood of memories to my consciousness.

  The music was inspired by a poem of the same name by the English poet George Meredith and is based on a skylark’s song, as the little bird flies higher and higher, the violin plays softer and softer until the sound eventually fades away.

  I think of the way a life starts out very strong and then as death approaches the soul rises higher and higher into the heavens and finally disappears into the immensity of timeless space above.

  That magical sound moved me tremendously, and I am sure it will every single time I hear it played, bringing back the magic of a little bird ascending on a Summers morning over a cornfield.

~~~~~~

Album cover My Way

Image from the net

(2) ~ My all-time favourite song could be one of many, I would have difficulty choosing a single song, but a near close favourite would be, “My Way,” sung and interpreted brilliantly by Frank Sinatra. I will plump for that as an all-time favourite for the benefit of this blog post.

Why is it significant for me? I love the words, they always seem to inspire me to raise my aspirations as high as I possibly can, to achieve what I would like to achieve using my own initiative.

There is a huge mass of so-called feedback out there that I can totally ignore and carry on mundane-like in, “My Way”.

~~~~~~

John Enjoy

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

(3) ~ OK NOW FOR TEN TRACKS THAT REPRESENT ME!

In no particular order ~~~

The Lark Ascending, – Violin and Orchestra.
Rachmaninov Piano Concerto No2, Second movement –
Casa Diva – Sung by Maria Callas –
Time to Say Goodbye – Sung by Andrea Bocelli and Sara Brightman.
My Way – Sung by Frank Sinatra
Que Sera Sera Sera – Sung by Doris Day
Bridge Over Troubled Water – Sung by Simon and Garfunkel
Desiderata by Les Crane
The Protecting Veil by John Tavener
Gregorio Allegri: Miserere

This selection is the first ten tracks of many that come to mind, I would not say they represent me in any concrete fashion. They all mean something to me and they individually, bring a significant memory to mind.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.