SATURDAY 6th JUNE 2020
KALEIDOSCOPE
Shifting colours, swirling shapes
Geometric patterns forming.
A vigorous shake brings shades
Magical images storming.
Eyes sparkle with reflected hope
Meeting the mysterious kaleidoscope.
© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
(23 WORDS)
HEADLINES
by John Yeo
The entire head took the message
Then responded with a united reply,
The nose addressed the eyes,
I will balance the glasses
You read the words.
I will sniff out the story,
Pass the result on to the brain.
The brain will interpret
The meaning of the words.
The magic of the poetry
Will be expressed by the mouth.
~
The ears will balance the glasses
Listen carefully to the response,
And adjust the result accordingly.
The eyes looked down on the nose
We have no need of your sniffing,
We are reputedly
The windows of the soul.
The light of truth
Shining directly to the brain
A shining light reflecting
The light of creativity.
~
Then in unison the ears chorused
Without your glasses you are blind
We can hear the music of the words.
The mouth joined in the conversation
A very wise mouth indeed!
You must leave room for interpretation,
Each mind is unique!
Together we make up the individual
Striving for unique expression,
Guidance is just another opinion
Generated with respect.
~
© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
I remember an unwilling, uninspiring English language teacher several years ago, who demonstrated some individual views on life that would have been highly criticised today. His major goal in life at the time was a high degree of self-promotion. His outward role was to attempt to instil in his pupils, (subjects), an interest in writing and appreciating poetry. He would start a session by reading his personal examples of poetry, then invite comments, which were obviously expected to be positive. The class would then be invited to write a poem on a set subject. An hour later our teacher would sit and take them apart piece by piece. The session would end by him handing out a subject to take away and use as an impetus to write a piece of poetry. When I wrote the above poem, I was influenced by some of his views and his comments. I included a couple of sentences that to this day I hope he noticed and took away with him.
Of course I’ve reworded and rejigged some of the words, since I resurrected it. When I look back, I can’t help thinking perhaps he wasn’t a bad teacher as he certainly stung me into action.
WEDNESDAY 3rd JUNE 2020 ~
I thought I would resurrect an old post of mine from five years ago.
DIALOGUE WITH A DAISY
by John Yeo
The garden was a mess, there had been an incredible North wind overnight that savagely blew everything to bits. I leaned on my spade and surveyed the damage, branches and leaves had been ripped from our trees and were lying everywhere.
Then out of nowhere a tiny voice whispered ‘Please don’t tread on me!’
Shaken, as I knew I was totally alone, I wheeled around in surprise.
‘I’m down here! Next to your incredibly large foot.’
I looked down to find there was nothing there except Dandelions, Daisies and Grass.
‘I can’t see you! If you are real and not a figment of my imagination, make yourself visible!’ I declared.
At this point I seriously doubted my sanity.
‘Look again! I am the good looking one with the purest white petals and a yellow heart of gold’
Stunned, I was now certain madness loomed and I was headed for hospital, I made to get away from there fast.
‘No! Don’t go please, I would love to talk to you about many things. I have been watching you very closely. Why do you work so hard, and worry so much?’
I thought, Why should I be worried about one small insignificant voice claiming to be a natural being.
‘What do you mean by petals and a yellow heart? Do you mean to say you are a common Daisy? If so, I can’t tell one of you from another, you all look the same to me!’
The tiny Daisies voice reflected a note of annoyance as it politely stated.
‘Less of the common, Big-Feet. We have a unique way of survival that excludes individuality and we are rooted here as one. Funny though, I can never differentiate the different clodhoppers that stomp around and squash our leaves and petals!’
‘Listen Daisy, if you actually are a talking flower how did you acquire the language I use, and how do you manage to express yourself? You ask me why I work so hard, I have to say the garden would quickly go to rack and ruin if I stood rooted to the spot like a daisy!’
‘My language skills are a result of much study of your people’s thought patterns and I am the result of much floral cross-breeding. We have very friendly relations with your newborn babies and we mingle our minds with them and learn your language as they learn language.’
‘That’s amazing!’ I shouted to the array of daisies around my feet,
I was desperately trying to identify which of the numerous daisies was actually responsible for the conversation. I wanted to dig it up and put it in a pot to take indoors and perhaps have many deep inter-species conversations.
Then I heard a sound that was suspiciously like a giggle coming from the vicinity of my neighbours fence. Then a chuckle was clearly evident leading to an embarrassing roar of laughter, that led to enormous fits of laughter. My face became bright red as I realised the implication of these odious sounds.
Realisation dawned as I remembered my neighbour was a ventriloquist and very skilled at throwing his voice.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
TUESDAY 2nd JUNE 2020
LA GOMERA
The seas were extremely rough on a day our vessel was moored in the picturesque port of La Gomera, one of the Canary Islands.
We were unable to proceed with our journey, due to high winds and rough waters, our Captain decided that caution was the best way forward. The Captain made an announcement informing everyone that we would be staying in this port for the night and heading straight for the port of Funchal, Madeira, not making the planned stop at Santa Cruz, La Palma. Our estimated time of departure would be 06.30am tomorrow. The waves shook the ship from side to side and the sea swell was just too powerful to risk departure. The Captain had decided to stay put for the night, and await a window of opportunity before attempting to leave this very picturesque harbour. Although the powerful wind shook and buffeted the vessel, there was a bright deceptive sunshine beaming through the windows and the ship’s stabilisers did their job. We were quite comfortable on board and I settled down and wrote a poem.
WAITING FOR THE WEATHER TO TURN
Waiting for the weather to turn.
Departure depends on the force of Nature
Wind whips and swirls the wild water,
The big ship sits in port delayed.
Waiting for the weather to turn.
~
When the large ship turns to leave.
The rear will swing to the rocky shore,
Wind whips and swirls the wild water.
Hour by hour, waiting for a lull,
A break of calmness and windless waves,
Waiting for the weather to turn.
~
The powerless vessel calmly waiting.
Paying homage to powerful forces
The Captain with patience, calmly waits
For a window of opportunity
Wind whips and swirls the wild water.
Waiting for the weather to turn.
Copyright by John Yeo © All rights reserved
There was a round of applause the next morning when the Captain announced over the tannoy speaker system, he was about to attempt to turn our ship and leave Gomera harbour. There was a moment of silence and general relief as the ship slowly turned and pulled away from the dockside then headed out to the open sea.
© Written by John Yeo
‘La Gomera, the second-smallest of the main islands in Spain’s Canary Island chain, is marked by craggy volcanic mountains crisscrossed with hiking trails. In higher altitudes, dense forests of ferns and moss-covered trees grow in the mists of Garajonay National Park. The upper reaches of this densely wooded region are almost permanently shrouded in clouds and mist, and as a result are covered in lush and diverse vegetation: they form the protected environment of Spain’s Garajonay National Park, which was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1986. The slopes are criss-crossed by paths that present varying levels of difficulty to visitors, and stunning views to seasoned hikers.
The central mountains catch the moisture from the trade wind clouds and yield a dense jungle climate in the cooler air, which contrasts with the warmer, sun-baked cliffs near sea level.
Between these extremes one finds a fascinating gamut of microclimates; for centuries, the inhabitants of La Gomera have farmed the lower levels by channelling runoff water to irrigate their vineyards, orchards and banana groves.’
(Information from Wikipedia)
MONDAY 1st JUNE 2020
FRESH PERSPECTIVES
Today we ventured out from our self-imposed lockdown and visited Felbrigg Hall, a National Trust property. The Hall buildings and the lovely walled garden were closed, due to the Coronavirus pandemic.
We found a lovely spot near the car park, overlooking some panoramic sweeping fields, full of sheep and lambs. There were also cattle in a distant neighbouring field. We set up our chairs and began to enjoy our picnic.
Margaret spotted a hare dashing through the grass and a couple of pheasants in the distance. There was a continuous cacophony of rooks and crows cawing in a nearby stand of trees and a few wood pigeons visible. Quite a number of other visitors were strolling around, but everyone was keeping their distance from one another and religiously observing the social distancing guidelines.
After our lunch, we followed a footpath and wandered through the field containing the sheep and took many photographs of the lambs on the way.
Several people were wandering through this field with well behaved dogs, on leads but the sheep paid no attention.
We walked to St. Margaret’s church where we stopped to take yet more photographs, the church building was closed. We made our way back to our car where we sat and enjoyed a last cup of tea and admired the view.
This was a lovely way to tentatively break the repetitive routine of the last few weeks and start to come out of social isolation.
I had to photograph the notice on the church gates. One cannot allow cattle or sheep to interrupt the church service.
© Witten by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
THE JOURNEY’S END
by John Yeo
Gupta and Jai were fellow travellers who travelled over 10,000 miles from Northern India to reach Panama, leaving behind their families and friends. They had endured damp steaming dense tropical jungles between Colombia and Panama. Linking Central and South America, the Darién Gap is one of the most dangerous jungles in the world, filled with deadly wildlife and guerrilla fighters. It is between 100 km and 160 km of lawless, hazardous wilderness. Gupta had a black belt in Karate, a useful skill, especially when they had fought with a small group of bandits as they crossed through the infamous gap. Jai, an officer in the Indian army, was a technology expert. They were now in the centre of Panama City enjoying coffee with some friendly Panamanian students. The good life beckoned.
Then the ironic announcement….
‘Due to the medical emergency, the borders are now sealed, travel is strictly forbidden.’
(150 WORDS)
© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
Word count: 150. Written for this week’s What Pegman Saw writing challenge. Every week, Pegman takes us to a new place on Google maps, and we get to search around for whatever sights catch our fancy.
This week Pegman takes us to the isthmus of Panama,
Information from the web
The estimated number of migrants is thought to be 100,000 per year. Half of the migrants come from India, and many others come from Cuba, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Eritrea. In 2017, migrants crossing into Panama also included people from Iraq, Sierra Leone, Yemen, Angola, and around 30 other countries.
Panama has taken some of the toughest measures in the region to stop the spread of the coronavirus. The country has banned all domestic and international travel. It has shut down airports and — after a March 22 deadline — prevented even Panamanian citizens from traveling to the country.
I worked extremely hard today potting our tomato plants into their final pots. I have 30 really healthy plants sited in our back garden. I can never believe the size these large healthy plants have grown, when I look back and consider the tiny black seeds I planted. Although Margaret is unable to eat tomatoes as she’s developed an allergy to them we both enjoy growing them.
Our geraniums are looking splendid this year, I always find these wonderful standby plants so easy to grow. Geraniums require the absolute minimum of attention and they come in some glorious colours.
There is a suggestion that geraniums are a beneficial companion plant to tomatoes. I got this information from https://modernsurvivalblog.com>
Companion plants for tomatoes include Basil, Oregano, Parsley, Carrots, Marigold, Geraniums, Petunias, Borage, any type of Onion or Chives.
When ‘companion plants’ are applied throughout the garden, they can be an effective form of pest management, allowing nature to do its job.
‘Companion planting can discourage harmful insects and pests in your garden without harming the beneficial ones.
Many plants have natural substances in their roots, flowers, and leaves that can repel or attract insects and can enhance the growth and flavour of other varieties of plants.’
Written by John Yeo
FRIDAY 29th MAY 2020
MARGARET’S BLUE ROSE
These photographs show our beautiful blue tea rose. I bought this rosebush as a present for Margaret 12 years ago and it has rewarded us with a multitude of magnificent blooms, year after year. This is certainly the most successful floral present I have ever bought for her. The blooms get bigger and better as the years go by. The blooms have an extremely delicate perfume, so fresh and enticing to easily intoxicate any passing bees and insects to promote pollination.
However in my experience, roses are one of the hardest plants to grow in the garden and need a great deal of tender care and protection. In Spring the shrubs need to be pruned and all the dead wooden branches removed and a good measure of rose food needs to be applied around the roots. They need careful, regular examination to detect any attacks by pests, in the shape of greenfly, black fly or aphids. A good quality bug spray needs to be applied at the first sign and regularly throughout the season. Then there is the dreaded rust-like fungal disease that looks unsightly and causes the leaves to discolour and drop off. A regular spraying with a fungal deterrent is the only method I know to counteract this.
Regular watering in the dry spells is essential to encourage the buds to swell to produce new wonderful blooms. Another measure of rose food should be applied halfway through the Summer.
Sometimes spurs pop out from well down below the bush, I always remove these as they take energy from the bush that could go towards promoting the flowers. Finally at the end of the flowering season, which can last through to the years end, I have to prune the branches right back to prevent wind-rock. The winter wind blows fiercely and rocks the plant, loosening the roots in the soil, causing weakness or in extreme cases, death.
In my mind looking after my roses is simply a replacement for taking care of small children, keeping the roses fed, watered and protecting them from predators. The reward of my labour is the smile on Margaret’s face when she picks a perfect rose to photograph and view again year after year.
I took this brief paragraph of the origin of roses from Wikipedia, there is a lot of information, myths and information there.
‘Ornamental roses have been cultivated for millennia, with the earliest known cultivation known to date from at least 500 BC in Mediterranean countries, Persia, and China. It is estimated that 30 to 35 thousand rose hybrids and cultivars have been bred and selected for garden use as flowering plants. Most are double-flowered with many or all of the stamens having morphed into additional petals.’
© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
SPORT
by John Yeo
Freedom to do as one likes is a hard-won state of mind.
Freedom to enjoy life with the diversification that is Sport.
Support the team, follow the trials of athletics.
Sportsmen and Sportswomen displaying incredible feats of sporting prowess.
~
Many levels of entertainment come under the title of sport.
A beautiful creature torn to pieces by a pack of snarling dogs.
Such is the fate of some beautiful Stags.
‘All in the name of Sport, you know.’
~
Then there are Pheasants,
A male bird has a colourful plumage, that can only be described as magnificent.
Sadly they are shot in their millions.
‘All in the name of Sport, you know.
No harm done, they are bred to be shot.’
~
Wild Ducks are killed by the sporting hunters.
Killed for food and pleasure
The exhilarating thrill of the hunt.
‘All in the name of Sport you know, culling is essential sometimes.’
~
The Fox can be a nuisance, randomly killing for the sake of it
Leaving dead carcasses all over the place.
Traditionally Fox Hunters wear a smart red outfit,
Mount splendid Horses and follow the Hounds,
~
Revelling in bloodshed as a Fox is torn to pieces.
‘All in the name of Sport, you know.
No harm done, their death is all part of the fun.
The hunt is an established tradition.’
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
WEDNESDAY 27th MAY 2020
NOT HOMELESS ~ JUST HOUSELESS
by John Yeo
Saturday night, the stores in the mall put the shutters up for the night. The last shoppers made their way to the exits, joined by the last of the mall staff. The night security staff arrived and manned the CCTV cameras continuously filming the whole of the shopping area. Joe and Pete were night security men who did regular foot patrols outside the mall.
The Saturday midnight patrol was always eventful, many a time they came across drunks arguing with each other or young lovers canoodling in the rear doorways and entrances to the mall. This Saturday was different, one Joe would remember for the rest of his life. The two men came upon, what looked like a bundle of rags heaped in a shop doorway.
Pete, a large stocky man with a shaved head, and a tattoo on his right cheek noticed it first.
“Hey Joe, look at that! Someone has dumped a heap of rags in the doorway. No, wait, it’s moving, someone is asleep under there. We will have to wake them up, we aren’t allowed to let people sleep on the mall property.”
“You’re right Pete, I will just shake the bundle with my foot, to get a response!” Then without thinking he kicked the edges of the rags gently. Joe was the shorter of the two men with dark, greasy hair, he was the most aggressive of the two.
Both men stepped back, extremely wary, as the bundle of rags came to life with a squeal and a thin, unkempt woman, began furiously attacking them with a tatty umbrella.
“Please leave me alone you ignorant sex-starved animals, I have no money and I am afflicted with an STD, that will infect you instantly.” The lady screamed.
“Now hold on,” said Pete. “What are you doing here? You can’t sleep here, you should go home and sleep! We are security officers, doing our job. What’s your name?”
“Mary,” said the lady, now noticeably calmer. “I have tried all the night shelters and hostels, even the Salvation Army hostel is full. I knocked and the duty security man just said. “Sorry we have a full-house, there are no beds available.”
Joe said, “You can’t sleep here, it is more than our jobs are worth to allow that!”
Mary started sobbing uncontrollably. The two men were both taken aback at this turn of events.
Pete turned to Joe and said, “We may be jobsworths, but we are not made of concrete.” Then he turned to Mary and said, “Come and have a cup of tea with us, we have a storeroom you can use, for tonight!”
Photographs Mary carried, revealed she was Maria Popova, a famous ballerina who had been missing for weeks. Joe gained her confidence and informed the authorities. It turned out Maria had suffered memory loss, becoming isolated from her family.
Joe and Pete became her personal security guards, both men were substantially better off for their kindness to a stranger in distress.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved
Bereavement single parent dad
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