This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’  

You receive a call from an unexpected person. Who is it, and what is the conversation about? Go!


by John Yeo

​   ’Hallo! who’s there?

Sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing lately, since my husband passed away. Can you speak up please dear?’ 

‘What’s that you say you’re not selling anything? That’s OK! I have nothing to spend my money on, I don’t need much.’

‘Oh! You say you want to make lots of money for me. I don’t need any more cash at the moment thanks.’

 ‘You sound like a nice young man. I bet you are wealthy, if you can show people how to get rich quickly. Are you married?’

  ‘It’s so good to have someone to talk to. I get lonely here on my own. I spoke to someone this morning and we had such a lovely long chat. He wanted to sell me something nice, I asked for more details. I explained my situation clearly, so nice to have a friendly ear. He asked for my bank details in such a nice helpful way.

I asked him if he was married and how things were with him.

He finally got exasperated and rudely slammed down the phone.’

’Hallo! who’s there?

   You say my computer needs a new service plan!

Tell me more, sounds interesting, so nice to have a chat.

What is your name and where do you live? I would love to meet you and get serviced by you. Are you a married man?’

‘You would like to have my bank details to start the service plan?

Great to hear a friendly voice. Give me your bank details first! We can then plan a future together.’

‘So nice to have someone to talk to. What’s your name and where do you live?’

 ‘Hello! Hello! Oh, he’s gone, I thought I heard the phone slam down only I’m a little hard of hearing now.’

’Hallo! who’s there?

“Hello! Yes, Double Glazing? That sounds so interesting .

I would love to hear more about that, you have such a friendly voice.

What? You haven’t got time for a chat? I love the sound of your voice. Who knows we could become really good friends. I might even buy some new windows, in a few years time.

Are you really going to cut me off before we get to know one another?

Call me again, just say hello. I promise to never hang up the phone;

It’s so good to have someone to talk to, I get lonely here on my own.

​Oh! Please don’t cut me off yet.


© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.



This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’ ~ 


S/he said
Pause whatever you’re doing, and ask the person nearest you what they’re thinking about (call someone if you have to). Write a post based on it.


by John Yeo

 The person seated next to me responded with ‘I’m reading the newspaper.’  Which happened to be an online version of the ‘Daily Mail.’  I am aware that one of the prime reasons for this  choice of newspaper is the crossword puzzles and mind games that go some way to the alleviation and defence against dementia. The news is almost a bi-product of the investment in purchasing the newspaper. I then asked,

‘What would you be reading if it wasn’t for the puzzles and mind games? In that particular newspaper?

 The unsurprising reply came as, ‘I’m not sure, probably The Independent.’ This reply was obviously based on the more serious aspect of buying a newspaper as an independent slant on the news.

   This response got me thinking about the influences that shape the mind. Most people’s habits of thought and inspiration come from the newspapers that we tend to devour on a daily basis. A constant flow of opinion and the slants on what is happening in the world is ingested and percolated from our reading habits. Usually our choice of newspaper is not so much dictated by our parents, but largely influenced by their choice of newspaper. Until we get to our further education establishment where we develop our own instinctual choices. 

 The wide variety of news sources today allows us to ingest the news in many different ways including the single daily take of our regular morning newspapers.


by John Yeo

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘The trail is very obscure,
Many twists and turns
Millions have come this way
The path is very well worn.’


‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Across the seas, another shore,
There are many signs,
Many corners, many directions,
Many examples to follow.’


‘What are you thinking about?’

‘One door unlocks another door,
The instinct quickly learns
The only way is forward,
Be kind, be gentle, be firm.’


‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Your trail began at birth,
Already the myriad clues and signs
Were building a pattern to follow.
The learning never ends.’

© Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.



This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’ ~ Prompt ~ DECISIONS, DECISIONS

How are you more likely to make an important decision — by reasoning through it, or by going with your gut?

Personally I tend to tailor my decisions to the situation I am making the decision about, as I humorously describe in my little piece of poetic Flash Fiction below.


by John Yeo

   The fictional garden needs a lot of work and we are at the planning stage. I would say this internal dialogue suggests that in this case there was a lot of reasoning through the problem involved.

  ‘I think if we cut the trees down, we can lay lawns and have a lake for wild-fowl, with flower beds and borders. We can build a summer-house with many arbours and marble statues everywhere. Nature can be modelled, shaped and controlled.’

   ‘No! Why not have a forest garden and encourage wildlife with deer, squirrels and much birdlife. A natural garden would be best, we don’t need the artificiality of manicured lawns and borders, that is too much like hard work. Nature always wins in the end, whatever we do.’

  “We can always concrete the whole area over and build high-rise flats, we could make a lot of money that way. Nature would take a long time to win then!’

  ‘Now you are being silly, I know you don’t like to be overlooked and feel crowded, I see a natural garden, where we keep the trees and shrubs. We would have our isolation with privacy to write and create. We will have a vegetable plot with chickens in the middle of our own forest. Nature would be our friend and we would both win then.’

  ‘Yes! We can build a small gallery with workshops and encourage a community of artists and writers. We will build cabins in the yard and sell our work in the gallery shop. Nature would be our partner and our friend.’

  © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved



This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’


Go back to a blog post you always thought could be better, or were unsatisfied with – now, fix it.

( Blog post resurrected from Wednesday 6th March 2018)

  This post was deficient in that there was no indication that it took place in Eastern Australia and it was lacking any photographs. I hope this has fixed those unsatisfactory problems.

I had a habit of getting up early and walking along in the local nature reserve. I went for my first walk through the natural woodland in the park with the camera, the weather was cloudy and threatening to rain, I had decided to risk a soaking. There were not many birds around to photograph, although I was aware of the usual cacophony of sound from the trees and scrub in the woods. 

  The first bird I came across was my old friend the brush turkey who was in the process of building a nest in exactly the same spot as he did fourteen months ago when we were here last. I shot some photographs of him hard at work and wandered along the track which was quite muddy from the incredible rainfall here of late and I was forced to turn back and retrace my steps. 

On the way I was met by my friend the dog walker, a man who I had met in the same place walking his dog when we were here last. Then the rain suddenly came and I was soaked to the skin, within minutes I sheltered under some enormous Palm tree leaves and waited for it to stop. I heard a rustle behind me and I was just in time to  photograph another brush turkey. 

The rain stopped and I was able to continue on my way.   As I was nearing home I noticed some movement in a beautiful Golden Penda tree which was in full bloom and covered with lovely yellow flowers. These trees are everywhere in this area, and they are all covered with pretty yellow blossom at this time of the year. To my surprise and delight there were several rainbow lorikeets feeding on the nectar produced by these wonderful flowers, and I quickly snapped a photograph of the lorikeets feeding, until I was noticed by the birds and they flew off.

© ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.



This prompt is from the ‘Story a Day’ site. Wednesday writing prompts. Hosted by Julie Duffy

The Prompt ~ Your character is searching for something…and time is running out.


by John Yeo

There is something I desperately need to know,

I must find out where I am! My location!

I lie here soul-searching for a solution,

My mind slips in and out of the flow.

My thoughts are the centre of my meditation.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

The answers are there and they come and they go,

I must find out where I am! My location!

I search hard to get control of the motion.

Of the patterns of thought fast and slow.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

I am paralyzed with mental frustration,

The clues are there and I know as I follow

I must find out where I am! My location!

My memory was good, many years ago,

Instant recollection, free from sorrow.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

My character of the moment is a solitary man who is recovering  consciousness from a massive car collision. He crawled away into a nearby thick, woody, copse, at the side of the road, where he became unconscious. Slowly, as he recovers his sense of awareness, he realises he is losing blood fast, drifting in and out of reality, he begins to search for himself with the slow realisation that his time is running out.

©  Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.




This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Daily Post on WordPress’  

Prompt ~Share the Love

Tell us about another blogger who has influenced your own online journey.

Crows roosting by Patrick White – 15/09/1948 – 01/03/2014.


by John Yeo

  It was ten years ago when I first came into contact with a man who had a big influence on my writing. 

  I followed his writing on a daily basis, overwhelmed with his poetry. He would write a long powerful poem on a daily basis and publish it on his Facebook page. It was to become a joy for me to wake in the morning and to start my day by reading his latest overnight post. I began commenting daily on his published poem and receiving a response. We became good online friends, to the point of him signing off by always sending. ‘Love to Margaret,’ my wife.  

He was also a brilliant and accomplished artist, often displaying and selling his work online.

Sadly he passed away on the first of March, 2014.


by John Yeo

Tragedy; a situation that can be woven into verse?

Not a difficult question for the power of the pen.

Read the question closely, memorise every word.

Take whatever comes into mind and spin it.

I remember a friend I made on the internet once,

A creative poet with a magical mind.

I would wake every day and devour his work

Then we would take time to greet each other.


The poetic spells he had woven overnight

Were gems of wisdom and poetic thought.

With the communication of his imagination 

He became a friend, a guide and an inspiration.

Slowly his verse became darker and darker;

My friend was living on borrowed time.

A terminal evil began to darken his verse

As he described in poetry his fight for life.


One deep, black moment before the dawn,

I looked for my friend but his magic was gone.

Gone to new horizons to record infinity,

A comet travelling through the universe

Swamped in the starmud of eternal time.

As dawn suffocated the starlight completely

I knew my friend had breathed his last.

Leaving a brilliant legacy of poetic tragedy.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.


Advice from a talented well-respected poet and artist

Patrick White (15/09/1948 – 01/03/2014)

‘I Often employ a Sufi practice in my poems, called scattering. You seed the wind with so many flowers, stars, images, the border guards of front door consciousness are overwhelmed by them to the extent that they start coming in the undefended… back door of the subconscious that listens to and hears everything without missing a thing. The point is to get in first, and then let the conscious mind find a place for them to settle. As for the form, its dynamic, not static and runs like a northern river back to its source, with all the inflections of water, whitewater, still water, falling water etc. reflecting the various moods and intensities of the poet along the way.’ Patrick White



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..



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.


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..


I lay on the mountainside seeking inspiration. I examined my problem to solve the conundrum. It began to rain, I looked at my watch. A drop of rain landed on my nose and supplied the answer. 



by John Yeo

Every day, with the warming return of the watery sun, the snow would melt, then seep and freeze again.

Forming pools of water that would rise and trickle and soon flood the surrounding plains.

 It starts in the mountain peaks, flowing and falling down rocky slopes, creating rivulets and cataracts descending into well-worn river beds. 

Tiny drops of water that little by little would wear away and hone and shape the boulders and rocky escarpments.

 Erosion over time smooths hard rock. 

Water, dripping on a rock over thousands of years, can eat through the rock. 

A river pounding against rock can cut through the rock over an extended period of time. 

Caves, set in the mountainside, created by rainwater slowly seeping through limestone rock, are formed little by little as the centuries turn into aeons. 

Stalagmites and stalactites are formed by traces of dissolved rock deposited by water dripping from the ground above.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


I realise there is a lot of truth in the old adage, ‘The sands of time grind exceeding small.’ Perhaps a parallel should be, ‘A drop of water can create the sand.’


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..



by John Yeo

  A mysterious man entered the marketplace in the town of Northchester carrying an ornate, richly decorated chest.

       ‘Gather round folks I would like to reveal an instrument that could transport your innermost soul to places you could never dream of. I bring an instrument that is capable of changing your life forever.’

 Then with a flourish, he pulled off the lid to reveal the contents of the box:

 An ordinary antique black plastic telephone. A scratched, battered, extremely well used, old fashioned telephone.

 The telephone suddenly rang! 

    The mystery man said.  ‘This proves this is not just any old telephone, this is a special telephone.

A line to the timeline of history revealing the twists and turns of the life of the planet since time began.

To travel through the timeline one just needs to dial the year one wants to visit. No kidding! Past, Present or hopefully the Future.’

  The worrying thing was when you dialed the future there was no response. 

‘Why was this?’  You questioned the powers in authority.

 Mr. Optimist replied. ‘There is no reply as the future hasn’t happened yet.’

    Mr. Pessimist said. ‘There is no reply because there is no future. A bomb has wiped out the entire planet. There is no future!’

   There was a third person present. An old man who shrugged and said. ‘Hang up the phone; it is written.’

 The wise old sage in the company then addressed the mysterious stranger.

     ‘Sir! Excuse me please. I don’t think there could ever be such a thing as physical time-travel. The end result would never be the same. People would surely travel backward and forwards in time to undo or change an unfortunate action or to rectify a mistake. Surely one person’s mistake is another person’s gain.

Some of us may not actually exist. How many times have people admitted their child sadly was the product of an unfortunate mistake?

 The past surely should be left in the past. The future is surely best left in the empty mists of time.’

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved




by John Yeo

The answer always at the end of the fingertips 

We are sure it will never drift far out of reach

Beating the virus is becoming a battle of wits.

The world has been overtaken by a mutual crisis

Nations collaborating and sharing the research

The answer always at the end of the fingertips.


The death toll mounting widespread contagion befits

A closedown of society, widespread fear of defeat 

Beating the virus is becoming a battle of wits.

Confinement essential borders just close to friendship 

Perhaps death and sickness have a lesson to teach

The answer is always at the end of the fingertips.


Science searches desperately for a vaccine to contain it

Prayers for the families with no solution to the breach

Beating the virus is becoming a battle of wits.

The rallying call to the carers, healers and medics

To stem the tide of desperation with a caring outreach 

The answer was always at the end of the fingertips.

Beating the virus has become a battle of wits.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved