ANOTHER LIKE ON SOCIAL MEDIA

This is a response to a prompt on Robert Lee Brewer’s blog, Poetry Asides,

on  WritersDigest.com.

The prompt No 428  is to write,  “Another (blank),” poem.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Another (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

IMG_2721ANOTHER LIKE ON SOCIAL MEDIA

By John Yeo

I put everything I’ve got into this post

I hope and pray it will go down well.

One man I know likes everything I do

I have to look in the mirror and smile.

Will it, I wonder be polished enough?

Without Blood, Gore or broken dreams.

These days anything goes it seems.

~

I have so many friends out there in the air

Sometimes my likes reach double figures.

I know a man who writes blogs for a living,

Bares his soul without a care in the world.

Sadly some people don’t like his views

Punish him, admire his posts then blank him.

Without Blood, Gore or broken dreams.

These days anything goes it seems.

~

I put a lot of hard work in a poem once

Carving the words out of past experience.

I polished it, honed it and added some gloss.

Finally, I selected an awesome illustration.

My number one fan said she loved it dearly.

Even commented with a loving heart.

Without Blood, Gore or broken dreams.

These days anything goes it seems.

~

I have an old friend who was a talented man,

He accomplished so much in his lifetime.

A painter of note and a wordsmith to boot,

A poet with streams of starmud for thought.

Yet his talent was unrecognised in his lifetime.

I can understand this reluctance to like,

Without Blood, Gore or broken dreams.

These days anything goes it seems.

~

Showing thoughtful appreciation and care

One little click could create an illusion.

You know looking back over the years

Before computers burst onto the scene.

Many people had little time to spare,

It was a crazy harsh world we lived in.

Without Blood, Gore or broken dreams.

These days anything goes it seems.

~

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

 

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SUCKED INTO A DREAM

 

dream fantasy 1

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

 

FLASH FICTION

 

In response to a prompt from The Writer’s Academy Penguin, Random House

PROMPT

A woman starts a job in a psychiatric unit and is transported into the clients’ hallucinations. Can she get back?

 

fantasy nurse icon 3

SUCKED INTO A DREAM

By John Yeo

 

     Tanya woke with a start, shaking her auburn curls, she sat up suddenly. A harsh wind rattled the television aerial on the roof of the maisonette she shared with her husband Tom. A loud snore indicated that Tom was still fast asleep on the other side of their king-sized bed. A film of perspiration covered her forehead, she vaguely remembered being frightened to death in a dream. Yet in spite of the feeling of abject fear and the lingering odour of perspiration, she could never remember what her dream had been about.  ‘Happens all the time lately.’ She thought.

Tanya turned and nudged Tom who woke up suddenly with a grunt.

      ‘Whassermarrer?’ he grumbled, ‘I was enjoying a dream of a tropical paradise then.’

     ‘Good for you,’ responded Tara, ‘I can never remember what I dream about. C’mon, get up! I have to start my new job in the hospital today, and it’s important I get there on time,’

  An hour later Tanya, having experienced the harassment of an uncomfortable journey to work by public transport, reported for duty on Clement Ward at the Eastchester general hospital.

  Her new colleagues on the Ward were welcoming and friendly, there was one exception, an overweight young lady with a short mousy brown haircut who abruptly introduced herself as Brenda. It was later she found out she was replacing Brenda’s best friend who had left under strange circumstances.

   Tanya took an instant shine to the Ward Clerk Jane, who welcomed her with an invitation to lunch in the hospital cafeteria. Jane was the same age as Tanya, also a Mum of a daughter, who was looked after by Grandma during the working day. Jane was a bubbly medium height blonde haired young lady and the two women hit it off with each other immediately.

   The morning passed quickly on the busy ward for Tanya, she was introduced to the six high dependency patients, her predecessor had been responsible for looking after. The hardest patient to get any response from was Ruth, a young lady who remained asleep for most of the morning, regardless of the efforts of everyone to wake her. Yet somehow there was a flicker of interest in her eyes whenever Tanya came close to her bedside. At one point Ruth actually opened her eyes, but quickly appeared to drift back into a deep sleep.

   Tanya was relieved when it came to lunchtime, and she eagerly made her way to the restaurant to keep her lunch date with Jane.

      ‘How are you getting on?’ Asked Jane after the two women had exchanged some warm small talk as they began to build on the instant rapport that had occurred between them.

     ‘Fine!’ replied Tanya. ‘I’m a bit puzzled as to why my predecessor left and why I got such a negative reaction from Nurse Brenda.’

  ‘Well it’s an easy question to answer as far as Brenda is concerned, they were close friends and Brenda was hoping to be recruited for the job you are doing. I heard a strange story about one of the patients who seemed to have a hold over your predecessor. Something to do with dream interpretation, I think.’

   ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Tanya, ‘I bet you are going to say the patient was Ruth. I’ve had some strange effects whenever I went near to her this morning.’

    ‘You’d better inform Sister Griffiths about those effects, I would hate to see you experiencing any untoward effects, especially now I have got to know you.’

 Tanya nodded assent and shrugged off the mysterious implications of this conversation. The two women enjoyed a pleasant lunch together and arranged to meet again.

   Tanya was shaken later that afternoon as she was administering medication through an intravenous drip, to Ruth who was fast asleep, A sudden flood of images filled her mind as she seemed to be transported to another dimension. Strange ethereal shapes were floating around Ruth, seeming to draw Tanya into their mysterious world. Tanya was being inculcated into a strange dream world deeper and deeper into this hallucinatory place. Tanya was aware Ruth was present and seemed to be drawing her closer laughing wildly with an invisible strong presence.

  Tanya felt raw fear coursing through her brain as she began to try to shake herself free from this dream world. Tanya realised Ruth was dreaming and somehow she would have to try to wake her up. How do you wake someone when you are a part of their dream?

  Tanya screamed as loudly as she could manage in this strange environment. ‘Ruth, wake up, Ruth please wake up now!’

  There was no response of course just wild laughter, and Ruth began to realise this wasn’t going to be easy.

  The strange shapes became clearer and suddenly an outside force seemed to be taking over.

   ‘Ruth please wake up!’ Yelled Tanya.

There was still no reply, just the subvocal sound of wild laughter.

  ‘Ruth!’ suddenly Tanya felt a shaking of everything in her consciousness, hard vigorous shaking as if a sudden earthquake had erupted in the dream world.

  ‘Ruth, what’s happening?’ Tanya yelled.

 A strong vigorous shake shook her body as a separate voice shouted. ‘Tanya wake up, Tanya!’

 As her eyes opened, Tanya met the worried gaze of Sister Griffiths who was shaking her roughly to wake her up.

   ‘Wake up Nurse, you seemed to have passed out, drink some of this water. What happened?’ Sister Griffiths looked kindly at Tanya as she led her into her office.

  ‘Would you like to tell me what happened just before you passed out Nurse?’

 Sister Griffiths picked up a pen from her desk and began to fill out a form her greying hair was cut quite severely short, but in spite of this, her face radiated kindness and understanding.

Tanya proceeded to relate the events that had overtaken her since she had come on duty.

   ‘I must have been dreaming, but it’s funny I can remember everything, I never usually can bring dreams back into my head.’

  Sister Griffiths said, ‘Don’t worry Nurse, I think this is exactly what I expected you to remember. I’m going to authorise a few days off for you and I want you to go home and rest. I will be talking to the Psychiatrist and I’m sure when you return Ruth will have been transferred to an isolation ward, where she will receive special care.’

    ‘Thanks, Sister Griffiths!’

Tanya left the hospital, still slightly bewildered at the unusual events of her first day at Eastchester hospital and was soon on her way home.

 

drean fantsy 2

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

 

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.

SCRAP

Prompt response based on the word of the day ~ 15th December 2016

Word for the day ~ SCRAP

scrap-cars

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

SCRAP

by John Yeo

    “Get rid of it! It’s an eyesore; a blight on the neighbourhood. I don’t care how much of a sentimental value it has for you. I can’t stand the sight of it outside our house every time I open the front door.” This was said in a voice that was clearly coming from a person who was fed-up and at the end of his tether.

     “But Dad!” I responded. “It’s a……”

   “NO BUTS!” Shouted my Father, obdurately. “I want you to get rid of it; send it to the scrapyard! It’s absolutely worthless.”

   “Dad this is a Vintage car that will be worth a lot of money when I get around to fixing it up, I will show you it’s much too good to be consigned to scrap.”

    “I DON’T CARE! You’ve had plenty of time to do the repairs. I want it removed now!” My father was a stern man when he was in the mood of absolute, obdurate stubbornness that he was revealing at this moment.

   My Mother arrived with a handful of scraps to feed the birds in our garden looking quite nervous at the sound of this altercation.

  “What’s going on? I can hear you two having words all over the house. I am sure our neighbours think you two are having a scrap. I would like to know what the problem is. Maybe I can help.” she said tossing the food scraps on our lawn.

 My Father then said: “I have insisted we finally get this heap of scrap towed away from the front of our house and demolished. Blown up with several tonnes of explosive would be a solution if you ask me.”

 At that precise moment, a scrappy looking individual on a horse and cart rode past our house just as my Father used the word, explosive. Turning to him and smiling my Father said. “How much would you offer us for this vehicle?”

“£50 is the best price I can do.”  he replied.

My Father smiled and said. “Yes, certainly you can have it for £50.”

The traveller smiled and said. “I’ll take the cash now, and get rid of the car tomorrow, OK!”

“WHAT! You mean you will charge me to take it away! Clear off before I call the police. You thief!” yelled my Father, shocked.

With that, the traveller produced a scrap of paper and scrawled a telephone number down. “Call this number if you change your mind.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

23 rd November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 23

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 23

By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 23, 2016

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “When (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write the poem. Possible titles include: “When in Rome,” “When Doves Cry,” “When You Can’t Say When,” “Whenever You Want,” etc.

IMG_1469.JPG

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

WHEN I GROW UP

by John Yeo

When I grow up I want to be free
Off all the things that are holding me back
When I grow up I want to be really me.

I’ll be branching out growing strong like a tree
Removing the shackles to get right on track,
When I grow up I want to be free.

I’ll quickly dispose of childish immaturity
Reaching upwards to grasp all I lack
When I grow up I want to be really me.

My mind will be reaching for my destiny
Shaking off sad thinking and retract
When I grow up I want to be free.

I’ll change my life and become carefree
Pushing to my goal without drawback
When I grow up I want to be free
When I grow up I want to be really me.

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

 

11th November 2016 ~ Poetry Challenge ~ Day 11

2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 11
By: Robert Lee Brewer ~ November 11 2016

For today’s prompt, write a description poem. Pick someone or something to describe. Get in depth, or just brush along the surface.

THE MIRACLE OF LIFE

by John Yeo

A tiny spark of dormancy waits for revival,
Encased in a fuzzy cloud of mundanity.
When time and the mixture of conditions allow
Growth begins from within the uncertainty.
A creation of beauty is coming slowly together.

~

The beauty and the perils that await the entity,
As a fragile life becomes stronger with time.
The magical moment when a muddle of words
Takes a solid shape in a rough draft outline.
A creation shaped slowly with poetical guidance.

~

Words encased with fine vibrancy, line by line.
Ringing through the portals of the poets mind.
The entity that grew from a shapeless design.
A thing of beauty with strength and fluidity
Produced and nurtured from a tiny seedling.
A vision; then the growth of beauty in words.

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

WRITING 101 ~ DAY 14 ~ RECREATE A SINGLE DAY

Day 14 Recreate a single day

You might sense by now that setting limits on your writing can be both liberating and productive. You’ve already experimented with word count and timed free-writes in previous assignments, so today let’s try something new: write a post that takes place during one single day.

It might seem hard, at first, to tell a compelling story with such a limited temporal horizon: you have no recourse to flashbacks, backstory, or foreshadowing (unless it’s in reference to something about to take place that same day). But the narrow confines of one single day will encourage you to zoom in on the telling detail, the meaningful exchange, and the tight, cascading succession of actions that each depends on the one that precedes it.

“Sunrise ~ Image © Copyright ~ John and Margaret

A DAY OF HARD RECREATION

by John Yeo

  Morning arrives slowly, as I lie in a half awake reverie. A sort of interlude while I am lying, mulling over the events of yesterday and more importantly focusing on what Margaret and I are going to do today.
I check the time, it is around 4am. ‘Better get up I think.’

  I shower, shave and switch my computer on. This takes a short while to warm up and I clamber into my clothes and take my seat to virtually travel the world. I check my e-mails first, then my comment flow from WordPress where I spend some time responding to those who have taken the time to read my work and comment. Next I visit Facebook and Twitter and look in on my family and friends pages and I tick the like button many times on their various posts. I spend some time reading the posts of my fellow writers who have tagged me with their work, I check out my writing from the previous day, and post the results on the net.

  I glance at the clock and I notice it is now 7am and I have been awake for 3 hours already. I make a morning cup of tea for Margaret and leave the house and drive to the local garage where I buy a newspaper.
I then head off to the allotment where I spend time growing vegetables and soft fruit, I have a mental list of what needs doing and I spend a couple of glorious hours gardening. My mind, as always, is mulling over my writing projects while I work. I happily soak up the sounds and sights of the birds and wildlife, and of course the occasional fellow enthusiast arrives to feed their chickens or to water the greenhouse. This morning my friend Darren, arrives early to see to his chickens, and takes the time to congratulate me on my prolific soft fruit bushes.
“I never seem to get that many on mine,” he remarks.
I promise to give him a couple of cuttings next year, he is happy about that as he leaves to go to work.

  9.30am and I have done a couple of hours work, so I decide to head home for breakfast. I load the car with harvested fruit and vegetables before I leave.
After a leisurely breakfast Margaret and I head off on a 6 mile journey, to a nearby town to shop for groceries. The traffic is quite light as the infamous school run is over at this time.

  I glance at the dashboard and notice the time is now 11.25am.
We wander around our favourite store stocking up with groceries, when there is a sudden. “Hi! You two,”
“Hello how are you? Haven’t seen you for ages!”
“I’m fine, my Mum is with me too!”
The four of us are excitedly chatting and blocking the aisle and eventually Margaret and I continue our shopping.
“That was pleasant,” I remark to Margaret.
“Yes, doesn’t she look well, and her Mum, looking that good at 90 years old!”

  We arrive home at about 3pm, after visiting another store.
We enjoy a lunch together and relax and unwind.
“Margaret, I will plant that tray of plants we have just bought and stain our garden furniture this afternoon. That second store we visited is a very useful place to shop.”
“I will deal with the shopping and then prepare a special meal for tonight,”
Margaret replies.
“Then I will get on with some writing.”

  7.00pm and my mind is now totally absorbed in another world on another plane of being as I play with ideas, fashion words into a logical sequence to attract and hold a readers interest.
Margaret is creating a meal and we will soon eat together. I interrupt her,
“Margaret can you spare a moment please.”
“Yes!” she replies, and I begin to read my latest piece of writing to her for her approval.
Just one or two minor suggestions and adjustments and I finish the work.

  It is now 7.30pm and we are enjoying a really nice meal together in front of the television. There is a cookery contest programme in full swing. I laugh and remark to Margaret,
“You would leave those contestants standing if you entered that competition! This food is absolutely brilliant, tasty, well prepared and well presented.”
” Don’t be silly you are biased!” Is her modest reply.

  We watch television until around 9pm, when tiredness creeps up on me and I leave Margaret watching television and retire to bed.

image

“Sunset ~ Image © Copyright ~ John and Magaret

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Writing 101