LOST IN LAVA SWIRLS

FRIDAY 19th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~LOST IN LAVA SWIRLS

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

LOST IN LAVA SWIRLS

by John Yeo

Snow builds in mountainous waves

Lockdown travel, harsh restrictions

Meandering, drifting thought-waves 

During dreary snow-encrusted days,

Lost in deep imagination’s sunshine 

Miles away across the ocean.

~

Thoughts of Mount Etna’s last eruption

Sunshine with swirls of ash descending

Colourful, dramatic, awe-inspiring,

Lava; scorching everything in its path,

Thickening ash darkens the Italian sky

My mind meandering lost in the lava swirls.

© Written by John Yeo.

(Image ~ Daily Express)

Mount Etna erupted on 17th February 2021 with no injuries or damage caused.

~

The Italian volcano Mount Etna has erupted for the first time this year 2021.

The volcano which is located on the island of Sicily, erupted on Tuesday, sending jets of lava into the sky.

Pictures shared on social media showed a plume of smoke rising from the mountain and ash raining down on buildings.

A nearby airport in Catania, was forced to close temporarily due to ash in the air making it unsafe to fly but there have been no reports of injuries or damage from the eruption.

(Report by April Roach in the Evening Standard.)

FACELESS FACES

THURSDAY 18th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~FACELESS FACES


FACELESS FACES

by John Yeo

  I find whenever I’m writing a story or piece of poetry, it’s inevitable that my characters will start out completely faceless. 

My job is certainly to word my description in such a way as to gently suggest the characteristics that would build the type of person I’m introducing. 

   My favourite author, Charles Dickens was adept at this, cleverly introducing characteristics that helped the reader form a picture of a person from a faceless face.

  One way is to concentrate on the five senses when thinking of how to construct a character’s face.

Sight~ Eyes, colour, cold blue etc , shape, deformities

Sound~Ears, pointed, flat etc, sharp hearing, loss of hearing.

Smell~Nose, Large, small, pointed, nostrils, hair.

Taste~Lips and tongue, Fashion of spectacles, nose-ring, makeup,

Touch~Rough or smooth velvety skin. soft facial hair.

Written by John Yeo ©  All rights reserved

BURYING YESTERDAYS

WEDNESDAY 17th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~BURYING YESTERDAYS

BURYING YESTERDAYS

By John Yeo

I put everything I’ve got into this post

I hope and pray it will go down well.

Someone 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 inspiring 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 had a good 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 went 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.

~

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

THE CANDY CABINET

TUESDAY 16th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below.

Prompt ~THE CANDY CABINET

THE CANDY CABINET


by John Yeo

I promise porridge oats for breakfast every single day

If in the coming elections you cast your vote for me.

My cabinet will make you wealthy after we break away.

~

We’ll be better off going it alone in every possible way

Vote to break the chains and everyone will feel free,

I promise porridge oats for breakfast every single day.

~

My chancellor will relax the annual tax we have to pay

There will be riches for all by my government’s decree,

My cabinet will make you wealthy after we break away.

~

Whisky with mIlk and honey will wash over the highway 

Mixed with tax-free champagne and imported chablis

I promise porridge oats for breakfast every single day.

~

Lochs and glens will be rich with my candy-cabinet in play

Vote for me to lead you, I’ll be your independence key

My cabinet will make you wealthy after we break away.

~

Vote for my cabinet to enrich us all in every possible way,

Our candy-cotton independence will start immediately,

I promise porridge oats for breakfast every single day.

My cabinet will make you wealthy after we break away.

~

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

PAINTED WORDS

MONDAY 15th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~PAINTED WORDS

PAINTED WORDS

by John Yeo

    Joe Young was 18, the second youngest in his family, his elder sister was at university studying to become a nurse. Joe was a budding painter keen to take up an art course in college. The postman had delivered an invitation to attend an interview and he was excited.  He quickly dialled up his friend Betty to find out if she had received her invitation.

   ‘Hey Betty!’

    ‘Joe! I tried to get you earlier, but your phone was busy. Good news! My interview is next Wednesday at 09;00, in London.’

   ‘Wow! My interview is at midday! Maybe we can go together if you like.’

   ‘OK Joe!  Are you worried about your recent experience when the local police caught you writing slogans with a spray can about global warming and big business?’

   ‘Not really Betty, they gave me an unofficial warning as they caught me decorating a derelict building. I won’t even bother to mention it.’

    ‘That’s great! I’ll meet you at the station on Wednesday, Joe.’

The week dragged along slowly with both Joe and Betty on tenterhooks. They both called each other almost every day, rehearsing their responses to the questions they were likely to face during their interviews.

   Joe actually contacted the local police station to enquire if he should raise the worrying issue and he was assured there wasn’t any problem.

  In spite of this they both arrived late at the railway station. They were soon running down the platform at top speed as the train had been sitting in the station for several minutes before they arrived. 

      “C’mon Betty! Keep up, we mustn’t miss the train, I’ve been waiting so long to get this interview over with. Means a lot to both of us.” Joe said, literally tugging her along.

  ‘Alright Joe, I’m coming! Please don’t pull my sleeve like that. You will ruin my new coat, I bought it especially for this college interview. It will be great to go to the same Art college.’

    ‘Wait, please wait!’ shouted Joe to the Guard who stood on the platform with a flag and his whistle, which he raised to his lips ready to set the train in motion. He smiled as the young couple dashed up and jumped into the nearest carriage. 

   ‘Phew, that was close!’ Joe went on, as Betty collapsed in the nearest seat to the door. The train soon pulled away from the station into the leafy countryside speeding through the rural beauty of England on the way from their hometown of Ware to the city of London. It was then that they took notice of the other two passengers in the carriage, an elderly gentleman with a smartly dressed young lady, both were politely smiling, as Joe and Betty settled back into their seats.

   ‘Look at that wonderful view Joe,’  said Betty. ‘Beautiful farms and country houses set in acres of rolling countryside.’

    Joe grunted in reply, as he put his head down studying his iPhone intently. The closer they got to the city, the more derelict and decrepit the buildings looked as large blocks of flats and terraced houses became views of factories and industrial units. The buildings were covered in graffiti; an amazing variety of shapes and patterns and pictures that seemed to accentuate the general state of urban decay. 

    Betty was shocked at this change of scene. ‘Joe, that’s disgraceful, look at that shocking rubbish and abandoned litter, piled around the buildings and the graffiti all over the walls!’

     Joe looked up from his device and said, ‘Betty, I hate the rubbish and the piles of junk all over the place but I think some of the graffiti is good and actually has the effect of brightening up the urban landscape.’

    Betty then replied, ‘Joe, that graffiti is mostly rubbish and has no meaning, just block initials and hearts and zigzags.’

    There was a polite cough as the elderly gentleman in the opposite corner of the carriage broke in. ‘I beg to differ, young lady, graffiti is an example not only of urban decay it reveals the underlying artistic decay of the population. This is an example of youth expressing themselves in the nearest they can get to pure art.’

    Joe then looked closely at their traveling companion and gasped, ‘You are Sir Larry the television artist, who has made money from urban art! We are off to college to be interviewed for our places.’

   The young lady then smiled and said, ‘Sir Larry will be on the selection panel!’

 Betty said, ‘I hope I haven’t put my foot in it by what I said.’

 The gentleman smiled and said, ‘I am sure you will get a place; both of you, I am a prime example of artistic decay, I was a graffiti artist once a long time ago.’

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

BALMY DAYS

SUNDAY 14th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~BALMY DAYS

BALMY DAYS

by John Yeo

Spring into Summer with floral delight

Blooms and blossoms fill the air.

Farmers fields are bursting with growth,

Green shoots and yellow rape everywhere.

The weather forecast has the pollen count.

Nothing to worry about, no surprise

A fit of sneezing with watery eyes

As hay fever sets in again.

~

Autumn into Winter with frost and rain,

Windy weather prompts the leaves to fall.

Reds, gold and russet, a beautiful sight,

The shorter days with dark icy nights.

The weather forecast predicts heavy snow.

Nothing to worry about, no surprise

A fit of sneezing with watery eyes

Resort to bed with the flu.

~

Seasonal affective disorder strikes

With a low mood and depression.

Regularly during the Winter months

Sunlight is reduced during shorter days.

The weather forecast is dire.

Nothing to worry about, no surprise

The doctor’s diagnosis is incomplete

Sit in front of a lamp and soak up the light.

~

Seasonal affective disorder retreats

With the arrival of early Spring.

Lightness and happiness sets in again

Balmy breezes and very light rain.

The weather person is smiling.

Nothing to worry about, no surprise

The world wakes up in a blaze of glory

With thoughts of relaxing balmy days.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

ONE LAST REMINDER

SATURDAY 13th FEBRUARY 2021 ~ BLOG POST

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~ONE LAST REMINDER

ONE LAST REMINDER

by John Yeo

  Time is moving inexorably, passing almost unnoticeably fast, catching up with us all, unaware of the passing years. It seems just a short while ago I was a young man with a head full of dreams, breaking away from my roots and embarking on my life as a confident, independent young man. 

  Yet somehow, it seems like centuries ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I have certainly lived through them all. I have memories of how it was and of all my hopes and dreams for the future.

   It seems as if the winter of my life has stealthily arrived catching me by surprise. 

   How did it arrive so fast? Where did the years go and when did my young man’s dreams disappear? 

   I remember meeting older people through the years and thinking that those people were years older than me and that the later years of my life were so far away I couldn’t understand or fully imagine what it would be like.

  Looking back over the various chapters of my life, I realize that as I’ve matured my later years have been a kaleidoscope of contentment. It has been almost two decades since I met and married Margaret. During these 17 contented, love-filled years, we have both matured and gracefully aged together.

  Yet here it is! As I enter and accept another season of my life, I’m prepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things that I wish I had done but I never did!  At least I know that my winter has arrived; I’m not sure how long it will last. I accept that when life is over; it’s over.

   I  certainly have regrets. There are things I wish I’d done. and things I should have done and there are so many things I’m happy to have done. It all goes to living a lifetime. A final reminder if you’re not in your winter yet, let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in life. Do not wait for tomorrow it may never come.

One Last Reminder – Finish Your Book!

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

FREE WIND

FRIDAY 12th FEBRUARY 2021


This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~ IF I WERE THE WIND

FREE WIND

by John Yeo

If I were the wind my spirit would be free,

Gusty and uncontrollable, a free wild wind

Dancing with breezy thermals over the sea.

The wind is a spirit set free.

~

My cool breezes wafting, fanning gently

A cooling calm wind can be a passive friend

If I were the wind my spirit would be free,

The wind will always be free.

~

A wild wind raging, blowing relentlessly

Angry power unrestrained without end,

Dancing with breezy thermals over the sea.

The wind is my spirit set free.

 ~

Wafting fluffy clouds across the topography

Gusting sandstorms with a desert whirlwind

If I were the wind my spirit would be free,

The wind will always be free. 

~

When we generate wind power constantly

We harvest the power from the whirling wind

Dancing with breezy thermals over the sea,

The wind is my spirit set free.

~

With squalls blasting and blowing relentlessly

Powering sailing vessels expanding tradewinds

Dancing with breezy thermals over the sea.

If I were the wind my spirit would be free,

The wind is my spirit set free.

~

© Written by John Yeo all rights reserved.

SPLASHES OF INDIGO

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

THURSDAY 11th FEBRUARY 2021

Prompt ~PLASHES OF INDIGO

Image credit ~ Indigo banded Kingfisher ~ courtesy of Pinterest 

SPLASHES OF INDIGO

by John Yeo

When the Kingfisher comes inland 

It’s  always a sign of rainfall.

With his splashes of indigo plumage

Reflecting the skies illumination

He announces the arrival of welcome rain.

Living under indigo skies.

~

Everything is burnt and sere,

Parched people on a parched earth

Scratch the dusty soil to survive.

The drought has been severe.

Acacia and Palm trees thrive.

Under the indigo skies.

~

Rainfall arrives with a cool fresh shower

Flushing the dry scarred land clean.

The dust we have been breathing 

Turns to mud. Life is a celebration,

Dancing, laughing and singing. 

We have free, fresh water to drink.

The crops breathe a sigh of relief.

Living under indigo skies.

~

Birds fly down to bathe and drink

In the swiftly forming puddles.

Dry river-beds begin to fill

First with a trickle, then a flood.

Flowers bloom fresh and smile.

Our crops grow green with welcome

Under the indigo skies.

~

Women fill stone jars with water

Balancing the weight on their heads.

People dance and sing once again

Coming together to appreciate the rain.

Clean, clear fresh water is everywhere,

Flushing away the forgotten pain

Of the sad dry months of drought.

Living under indigo skies.

~

 ©  Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved

Image credit ~ Indigo banded Kingfisher ~ courtesy of Pinterest 

WAVING WINTER WHEAT

WEDNESDAY 10th FEBRUARY 2021

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

Prompt ~WAVING WINTER WHEAT

WAVING WINTER WHEAT

by John Yeo

   Restivo was an urban rat; the leader of a large rat pack that inhabited the maze of London sewers. Life had been comfortable for everyone in the pack, with the families enjoying gourmet meals, scavenged from numerous restaurant bins and the discarded remains of takeaway meals carelessly dumped on the city streets. 

  Things began to get strangely difficult when their food supply suddenly dried up. Restivo made enquiries among all the senior members. 

 It was Bertram, an aggressive fearless brown rat who provided the first clue.

   ‘The two-legged giants seem to have disappeared overnight and there’s been no food scraps available. Our food-sources are dark and locked up, with nothing to eat anywhere.’

   Lady Belle, a handsome brown rat said, ‘How am I going to feed the family? Without the giants we will starve. It’s bad enough losing my friends to vicious poisoning.’ 

   ‘Don’t forget it’s the giants who are poisoning us. Now they are staying indoors, locked down so there will be no poison.’  remarked Bertram.

   ‘Yes; but we will all starve in the city without the two-legged giants,’  cried Lady Belle.

  Within a week, food was becoming scarcer and scarcer, during the disappearance of the locked-down two-legged giants. No-one was eating in their restaurants and discarded food was becoming scarcer. Restivo, the leader of the pack, called the rats to a mass meeting. 

  ‘Listen friends, we’re moving out to the green fields of the farms with huge grain stores, and mounds of food growing everywhere. There are vegetables and fruit freely available, growing in orchards. Beautiful wheat-fields with gentle summer breezes and crops of waving winter wheat, ready to be harvested by our families.’

  There was a chorus of agreement, then Roberta Rat shouted.

‘ Where are we off to Boss?’

‘The hinterland just outside town.’

.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.