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

WRITING 101 ~ DAY ONE ~

Writing 101

WRITING 101 Day one

I write because….

Why do you write? This is a question you can answer again and again, as your response might evolve over time. You may have already addressed it in a previous blog post. Some bloggers also use this question, and variations of it, to shape their bios and About pages. Why am I here? Who am I? Why do I blog?
~~~

WHY DO I WRITE?

by John Yeo

I write because I am interested in life and many things and I write to record my thoughts. I write and blog as much as I possibly can to enable my whole writing experience to be improved, to allow me to continue with my ultimate dream of writing a book. I am intensely interested and committed to achieving this goal, and I am always willing to take as much advice and criticism on board to smooth the passage.
Writing has always been a very strong personal interest, but sadly life and working for a living had overtaken the urge to commit words to paper on a regular basis for a large number of years. I am however very well-read and I am in awe of a wide variety of literature and the many great writers who spent their lives producing some very great works. Writing to me is the preparing and casting a magical spell by the power of words.
I never lost my interest and fascination with the written word and now retired from my career, I can and do find time to follow my dream. I believe that any form of communication that can break down barriers is very important. Words, both written and spoken are the ultimate and most important form of passing on the invaluable learning that is built up by the experience and learning gathered in a very full life.
I extend a very warm welcome to readers of my blogs and I would love to hear constructive thoughts and criticism or even appreciation.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved.

~~~~~~

image1

Image from the net