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BE STRONG~A LIFE HAS GONE

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This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilia’s blog

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silent dying by laura makabresku on Flickr

BE STRONG~
By John Yeo

The peace of the moment.
Reflected in Stillness and Silence,
The shroud tries to conceal
The awful tragic truth.
A young life lived, so short,
So sweet and full of laughter.
The curse of the cancer that eats away,
The frailty of our human defences.

Many a care you faced in a life,
Shrugged away with the ease of youth.
You lived a life in an enquiring way,
Never realising the awful truth.
Many tears have now drowned the moment,
Your short life has sadly expired.
The cancer sapped your strong free will
Until the fight for life back-fired.

Now you lie here, at peace,
We all find it so hard to bear,
Our frailty shows in the tears we shed,
As we say goodbye with a prayer.
Life is a passage from here to somewhere,
A stage in the eternal journey.
A short sweet life has left today
Thanks for the life-long memory.

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

JUNE 20th, 2014 ~Writing 101,~Day Fifteen:~Your Voice Will Find You

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You’re told that an event that’s dear to your heart — an annual fair, festival, or conference — will be cancelled forever (or taken over by an evil organization). Write about it.

For your twist, read your piece aloud, multiple times. Hone that voice of yours!

FROM GOD TO MAMMON

By John Yeo

We live in a very rural, very pretty small village, on the East coast of England, in the county of Norfolk. Almost every village or small town here, has a church that nowadays is pretty sparsely attended. In days gone by when churches were packed, the village church would be a very important part of the community. Many of these historical churches have been sold off and put to other uses, including blocks of flats, or art galleries. In one very sad case, legend has it, that one lovely old church became a bingo hall.

We have received the very sad news that our very own familiar old church, will be closed for good next year, as it is now considered uneconomical to continue operating the church as a place of worship. We will be joining another congregation in one of the neighbouring villages. This will be a very sad loss to our community as many of the old families from around this area regularly worshiped here. Not only will we be losing our lovely old church, we will also be losing the village fete that was organised to boost the church funds, together with the general church and village social life.

Sadly, many uneconomical churches all over this country are getting sold off, due to falling church attendance and high maintenance costs.

We will be very sad to see our dearly loved historical church go to property developers, It almost seems like the house of God suddenly is sold for profit and the speculators make even greater profits from the refurbishment of the properties.~From God to Mammon.

Copyright ©  Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved

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JUNE 19th, 2014 Writing 101, Day Fourteen: To Whom It May Concern~

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Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as the springboard for your imagination.

Today’s twist: Write the post in the form of a letter.

I picked up a copy of Cervantes~Don Quixote~I turned to page 29. Margaret held the book up and I closed my eyes~The word MIRACLE appeared under my finger.

LETTER TO MIRACLE

By John Yeo

Dear Unexpected Miracle,

I address you as an unexpected event as I am writing to you in response to an unusual request. I do believe in your existence in a very obtuse way. I think when something desirable, unexpected and life-changing happens, forces come into play and you arrive unannounced and usually in a very indefinable way.

 It is a pity your arrival and existence is usually totally unprovable or there is always another logical explanation for the event that is attributable to you. For example would the sick person have got better anyway or would the life-saving event be merely chance in action. I believe that if you really want to be taken seriously by the always sceptical Scientific community, you will have to reveal yourself in such a way, there can be no other explanation than your presence and efforts.

 May I suggest, my elusive friend, that you reveal yourself through a major irrefutable event. Perhaps suddenly putting a stop to war overnight and bringing peace between all nations. Making all sickness and suffering a thing of the past. I mean all sickness all over the world, not just the occasional questionable one-off cure. Cancel out any form of suffering at a stroke. No more innocent children dying of hunger and thirst. Food aplenty for all the peoples of the world.

Now with miracles such as this, I am sure you will be attributed the credence you deserve. Sadly though you would soon be commonplace and taken for granted.

Yours Sincerely

John~

 

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

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JUNE 18, 2014 Writing 101, Day Thirteen: Serial Killer II

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On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.

Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second instalment — loosely defined.

You could pick up the action where you stopped, or jump backward or forward in time~

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The link below will take you to my~Day four writing instalment~ “The tragic loss unfolds”~Episode One~

http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-fy

THE ORCHIDS

 We froze at first as we could hear this noisy approach getting closer, someone or something was very near us running through the undergrowth. I looked at Margaret, we held hands and ran for our lives in the opposite direction. We did not wait to find out who or what made that noise, birds high above flew away making cries of alarm.

 We ran deeper and deeper into the blackness of this huge pine forest, until we both collapsed on the grassy bank of a stream, panting to get our breath back. We had no idea where we were. The stream was running quite fast, there were reeds, rushes and pretty yellow flowers on both sides on the banks. We decided to follow this stream in the hope of finding a way out of the forest.

 We came to a clearing in the dense woods that was covered with many wild flowers and  lush green grass, by the side of the stream. We sat down to rest and feeling hungry we nibbled on some chocolate with some wild berries. Margaret laughed and remarked that we were enjoying  the fruits of the forest.

 Margaret then asked me if I knew anything about a group of very pretty wild flowers nearby. I immediately recognised them as a group of beautiful orchids. I am certain these are very rare, very valuable, Fairy Slipper orchids. “We could make a lot of money from these orchids, if only we knew where we were.”

 We continued on our way, leaving a makeshift trail of twisted reeds hanging from the branches of the trees and bushes along the path next to the stream. Suddenly there was an approaching crashing and the breaking of twigs coming towards us from behind. We then realised to our horror that we must have been followed from the cottage~~~~~~~~~~~~~(To be continued)

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo~All rights reservedwriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

JUNE 17th, 2014~Writing 101, Day Twelve: (Virtual) Dark Clouds on the Horizon

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Today, take a cue from something you’ve overheard and write a post inspired by a real-life conversation. Revisit a time when you wish you’d spoken up, reminisce about an important conversation that will always stick with you, or tune in to a conversation happening around you right now and write your reaction. Take time to listen — to what you hear around you, or what your memories stir up.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

CONSCIENCE

By John Yeo

I find myself wrestling with the danger of rumour and false impression that is very real and can generate a lot of hurt.

Some time ago I met a very old friend, Ena, at the bus stop. There was a couple in front of us, almost oblivious of us, one of them turned to the other and said quite loudly: “She is a thief, it was all over the town, caught red-handed. Mary something, pretty well known, I hear”.

We were sitting on the bus, when Ena nudged me and remarked: “Did you hear that? They must mean, Mary Smith, round the corner. Well I never! I would never have believed that! They said she was well-known here.”

The news spread like wildfire among the locals and Mary soon became ostracised with her reputation ruined. “Keep your children away from that Smith woman! She is a thief and not to be trusted!”

It was not until the truth was revealed that a well known TV star, Mary Stevens had been caught shoplifting, and it was her the idle gossips were referring to.

Sadly our Mary Smith never got to realise who blackened her name, although it became clear to everyone close by that she was innocent.

I wonder, should I speak out, or stay quiet?

Copyright (c) ~Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved. All characters and situations in this story are fictitious.

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JUNE 16th 2014~Writing 101~Day Eleven: Size Matters

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Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home?  Who lived there with you?

Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.

BOARDING SCHOOL AND STODGE

By John Yeo

 Twelve years of age! To me that is a very long time ago. Yet, I can vividly remember the boarding school, my brother and I attended. I was eighteen months older than brother, Pip.

We were very close, both in age and in our mutual interests.

The school was situated in a small coastal town in England, Clacton-on-sea. The accommodation was divided into houses. We were both assigned to Essex house, under the guidance of a house-master, Mr Goodman, who looked after us, with the help of his kindly lady wife.

A sports field was attached to the school, where we took part in a wide range of sports. Football and cricket predominated with athletics also a  very popular choice. I was scorer for the school cricket team and a batsman, when I was selected. I also enjoyed running. My brother Pip also enjoyed taking part in a variety of sports.

I can almost touch the wooden desks in  the classroom. A blackboard, with chalk and a dusty cloth that the teacher used to clean off the illustrations from the previous lesson. I remember the homework I would work on in the evening, before joining the rest of the boys on the playing field.

Twelve years of age, I was just beginning to notice girls. There was a girls section of the school that was situated across a busy main road. Segregated and separated. Except for the occasional glimpse and a wave, the unattainable girls became very desirable as time passed.

Although our school was near the seaside, I don’t ever remember walking down to the beach which was on the other side of town. We were taken out regularly in school parties to various places, supervised quite closely, then returned to the school in our groups.

I have vivid memories of the food we consumed and the least said the better. Suffice to say I rarely eat rice pudding, porridge, bread pudding or stodgy foods.

A short sentence. A medium sentence composed of a few more words. A lifetime sentence of likes and dislikes brought on by consuming mass catered food at boarding school that was a surprisingly interesting time in my life.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reservedwriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

Writing 101, Day Ten: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!

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Tell us about your favourite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory. Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice

HAPPY CHRISTMAS~1950

Written by John Yeo

 This very memorable occasion took place a very long time ago in the early 1950’s. My school-friends and I had been looking forward to a huge upcoming get-together for many months. Several schools were meeting-up for an early Christmas lunch, funded by a charity organisation. We were all lively school-kids between the ages of eight and ten years old. 

 The excitement began to mount when we boarded several buses at our school to transport us to the venue. I remember how we were all cheering and laughing and how difficult it was for the masters, (our teachers), to get some order for the journey. They had a hard job on their hands looking after us.

 500 children were seated in a very large building on chairs at wooden tables, arranged in rows, with the teachers and school monitors and prefects scattered strategically around to keep an eye on things. The noise was deafening at first, with a hubbub of chatter, and much laughter resounding everywhere throughout the building. We all soon settled down as we began to tuck into our lunches of roast chicken, roast potatoes and all the trimmings. This was followed by Christmas pudding with custard, and there were crackers to be pulled with jokes and funnies to be read out loud.

 After lunch a very special visitor arrived, dressed in red with a long white beard, Santa Claus entered the building, the cheers and shouts of welcome were deafening. Every child had a present to unwrap, I got a jigsaw puzzle of dogs in the countryside. Then we enjoyed  a magic show with a real conjurer wearing a top hat, who was very mysterious and very clever. Finally we all sang Christmas carols at the tops of our voices and everywhere there was a feeling of happiness and good spirits.

 At the end of the day, 500 very tired, happy children, boarded the buses to return home, some with memories that would last a lifetime.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

JUNE 12, 2014 Writing 101, Day Nine: Changing Moccasins — Point of View~

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A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

DRAMA IN THE PARK

By John Yeo

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The Man’s Story

We had to get away from the family and the house as Amelia whispered that she had something important to tell me in private. I suggested a stroll in this beautiful park, I always enjoy walking here among the trees and flowers, watching the birds and it was a beautiful day. Amelia hesitated, then broke the news.The hospital had telephoned to say that the tests she had undergone were completely normal and not cancerous as we had feared. I cried tears of relief and joy as the news sunk in, I couldn’t help myself, I am not normally an emotional man. I gave her a huge hug, with the tears streaming down my face. We then danced a jig together, right there in the middle of the park, laughing out loud.

The Woman’s Story

I am glad Peter brought me to this park where I could tell him the good news in private. We didn’t want the family to worry about our fears for my health, they didn’t suspect I had undergone tests for breast cancer. I had discovered a suspicious lump some time ago and my doctor immediately arranged a barrage of investigative tests, I had received the results today. When I gave Peter the good news he cried. Peter burst out crying, real tears of joy! Then we danced around the park together revelling in the sheer happiness of the moment. There was an elderly lady sitting on a bench nearby knitting, she must have thought we were mad.

The Old Woman’s Story

It was such a beautiful day, I thought I would take my knitting and sit in the park in the sunshine. I must finish this sweater for my grandson Fred’s birthday next week. It is red his colour of the moment, the colour of his favourite football team’s shirts. I noticed this man and woman walking along hand in hand, they seemed quite oblivious of everything around them. Suddenly the woman said something to the man, who stopped in his tracks and burst into tears. I thought they were going to have a row, but they were suddenly laughing, dancing, screaming with laughter and joy. I wonder what that was all about, it really is a funny old world! Knit-one, Purl-one, Knit-one, Purl-one.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

THE REALITY BEHIND A DREAM

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This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilia’s Blog~

Picture it & Write

Ermilia Black and White lips

Picture is provided and credited by Ermila



THE REALITY BEHIND A DREAM


By John Yeo


My Father would laugh about a very strange dream that my Mother had twenty years ago, before I was born.


 My Mother insisted one day that she had been abducted by humanoid aliens. They had taken her to a gigantic flying saucer-like machine where she had been made love to by an alien and impregnated with their seed and life force. The aliens had travelled across the universe from their dying planet to implant their seed to save their race. Conditions here on Earth were alien to them and they were unlikely to survive, this was the only way. They were able to distort our timewaves and my Mother awoke in her bed at home the next morning, as if from a dream.


 My Father laughed at this dream and made fun of her vivid imagination, he always said Mother was a dreamer and this is a very precious gift to have.


 One year later I arrived and Mother and Father were very proud of their new daughter. I had a very happy childhood, I never lacked for anything and I was rarely ill. My parents always asked me about my dreams, Daddy laughingly wondered if I took after my Mother as a dreamer.


 At the age of twenty my features suddenly altered and this unusual growth appeared on my face. I lost the ability to speak, but I found I could read minds and I knew what people were going to say before they opened their mouths. I would actually communicate by thought transference, I found all I had to do was think to make my wishes known.


 I was examined by many Doctors, Psychiatrists and Scientists, I succumbed to every known scientific test but there was no logical explanation for the black and white growth.


 Then my Father suddenly remembered Mother’s very strange dream and a frission of excitement buzzed around the scientific world. I have many extra unusual abilities and there are two protrusions growing on my back as time passes. I know these are wings and I will be able to fly.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo~ All rights reserved


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Writing 101 Day Seven~Rustic and Flash

				

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Give and Take ~Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.


Today’s twist: write your post in the form of a dialogue. You can create a strong opposition between the two speakers — a lovers’ quarrel or a fierce political debate, for example. Or you could aim to highlight the difference in tone and style between the two different speakers — your call!


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RUSTIC AND FLASH


By John Yeo


Hallo Rustic, my friend the ploughman. Pleased to meet you!


Likewise Flash, Moi pleasure you well-suited city-slicker!


Look Rustic, we city dwellers have all the fun and thrills of metropolitan life.


Arrh roight Flash, but we folk in the countryside have the benefits of the peace of Nature.


In the city we have the choice and convenience of many different shops and stores.


Here in our rural paradise we grow fresh food and enjoy the pleasure of real natural taste.


Listen Rustic, city life is fast and furious and we can get to the office easily and network.


Arrh but Flash, here on the farm we get up early, work hard, and commute by tractor.


You country bumpkins rarely get the chance to appreciate real art or the theatre.


Yes but city slickers choke on exhaust fumes all day and get real nature, second-hand.


We have the pleasure here in the city, my rustic friend of mixing with many different cultures and sharing the lifestyles of people from all over the world.


Flash moi over cultured, stressed-out nine-to-fiver, the rural life is very peaceful with low crime rates and the luxury of a slow pace of life.


Rustic you stuck-in-the-farmyard-mud fool! I would not swap my network friends and excitement to live in the countryside.


Flash, you are a close-minded, idiotic, unenlightened twit!  I would hate to be you, living among thousands of city people and still manage to feel very lonely in your concrete apartment.


Copyright (c)  Written by John Yeowriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2