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


SUNDAY 21st MARCH 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..



(A sonnet for Sunday)

by John Yeo

I love adding the detail to a very fine drawing   

Then painting a picture for sensual pleasure.

I love the satisfaction of producing real art,

The pure creative pleasure of building a picture.

A feeling of accomplishment at the completion

Positive reinforcement of my own interpretation

Producing a likeness, a creation of beauty.

The application of paint in glorious colours

To produce a picture to match the mind’s eye

This relaxation has benefits beyond measure

Blocking out mundane thought by contemplation 

Of the subject, and the total intense concentration.

Leading to a final interpretation. Hard to resist.

The question. Why did I not become an artist?

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved 


Photo by John and Margaret



  I thought I would indulge in some flash fiction today.

The photograph is a picture I snapped in a theatre Margaret and I visited in Stratford-upon-Avon, five years ago. The bust that is central to this display is of course the immortal bard surrounded by colourful costumes. There is a small fountain tinkling away in the foreground giving some wonderful atmospheric sound effects.

Supposing, just supposing, the great playwright came back to life and applied to act the leading role in a production of one of his plays.



by John Yeo

A letter received by a would-be Hamlet.



Dear Sir.

 We are pleased to inform you that your application to play Hamlet in our current production has been successful. In view of your extensive past experience of playing this role, and the excellent performance you treated us to at the interview. Please report to the director at the theatre next Wednesday morning, where you will meet the rest of the cast.

Yours faithfully,

Jonathon Milton


Wednesday at the Authentic theatre

  ‘Hello Luvvies, wonderful to meet you all, I am here to replace your leading man, I hear he is not very well, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m William! I understand if we have a successful informal rehearsal first, then we can have a full dress rehearsal this afternoon.’

    ‘That’s right William, Grab a stool and start following the lines when we begin. You were very impressive during the interview, everyone was amazed at the way you read your lines from memory. Although there were a few anomalies and variations from the script. Nothing we can’t iron out though. After all, we don’t want to change the words of the immortal bard.’

    Later in the pub, the talk is all about the wonderful, trouble free rehearsal of the morning and the full dress rehearsal to follow, this afternoon.

    ‘William please  have another good home brewed stout! Sorry they don’t serve sack here, perhaps if we ask them to order some especially for you, then you can enjoy it while you are working here!’

     ‘Fine thanks! I won’t have another drink now. If I drink too much then I will be heady this afternoon.’ Replied William.

    Back at the theatre, William is shown to the star’s dressing room. ‘Here are your costumes made to an authentic Elizabethan design. Good job you are the same build as our previous leading man. The makeup artist will be along shortly.’

     ‘WHAT! I was under the impression this was an authentic production. You have even altered the original words out of all recognition. I know the author, William Shakespeare would never have applied modern day makeup. I am not a circus clown man!  I would like to see the Director.’  Shouted William irritability. ‘Get him at once!’

    ‘Yes Sir!’ said the stage hand.

   The Director arrived and was stunned to hear about this turn of events.

   William shouted at him, before he could open his mouth.  “If I’m expected to  mouth incomplete sentences and words that have been subtly altered, then to have this muck applied to my face, then I refuse to play the part. It’s bad enough that the original play has been altered forever over the centuries.’

  The Director scratched his head and firmly replied, ‘Are you mad? This play is a word-for-word adaptation from the Folger library, based on the First Folios. Now I suggest you get your coat and clear off back to where you came from!’

  William was taken aback by this attitude and as he was putting his coat on he shouted,  ‘I will refer this non-authenticity to the trades description department of the Lord Chancellor’s Office.’

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.



photo of black ceramic male profile statue under grey sky during daytime

Photo by Mike on

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.




Gunton Lake

I thought I would like to share this beautiful picture of Gunton Lake again. Margaret captured this image from under some trees using her iPhone. I like the way the gold Autumn leaves on the trees are reflected in the blue surface of the lake. The deep blue colour of the water gets increasingly lighter as the water flows beneath the direct sunlight. With a scattering of wind-transported golden leaves floating on the surface of the water this picture is a magic carpet ride into meditation.



A prompt response for  Inspiration Monday ~ MUSICAL CHAIR


Image courtesy of



by John Yeo 

The natural sounds are music to my ear
Resounding round my comfortable chair,
My life will begin and end as I sit here.

The magic of the sound swirls far and near,
Harmony soaking through melodic air;
The natural sounds are music to my ear.

Smooth melodies drifting sweetly clear,
Sounds around my chair answer a prayer;
My life will begin and end as I sit here.

Life becomes love becomes music clear;
A dreamy soulful symphony where
The natural sounds are music to my ear.

Trance becomes a pre-hypnotic tear,
Memories sing of a future I will share
My life will begin and end as I sit here.

The music with my chair wings steer
Mind to crystal clarity without care.
The natural sounds are music to my ear
My life will begin and end as I sit here. 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


grafitti (2)

Image courtesy of

A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: ARTISTIC DECAY

Grafitti (1)

Image courtesy of


by John Yeo

  We ran down the platform at top speed, the train had been sitting in the station for at least fifteen minutes.

  “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 they. 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 together.”

 “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 the large blocks of flats and terraced houses with washing lines on the balconies, 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, the 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 millions from 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 when I was young.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved



I am taking part in Mondays Finish the Story 16/02/2015, which is a challenge that provides a photo prompt and the opening sentence to your story. The rules indicate that the story you come up with must be between 100-150 words.

The link below takes you to Part Ten

Image supplied and credited by Monday’s Finish the Story


by John Yeo

Little did they know when the photographer took their picture they would find themselves trapped in a painting. 

They say life is an ongoing ever-changing picture, when Diamond Jack arrived to say goodbye on his very powerful motorcycle, he presented Marg with a painting as a present. Jack is an artist, he had many sketches and photographs of Marg and the team with the wolves, to turn into paintings. Marg said goodbye before catching her plane to London.
The Brigadier was upset, Dr Dickus was still on the loose, last reported on the way to Dubai, with Angelo on his trail.
The Brigadier was very interested in the painting that Diamond Jack had passed on to Marg, he never revealed how he knew about it, there were two well known international scientists among the musicians. When the painting was examined, there appeared to be writing beneath, that turned out to be a very valuable formula. Marg was rewarded with a huge bonus.
Several months later death struck swiftly……….

(150 words)
To be continued…………..

The link below takes you to Part Ten


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS ~ 100 words on the pictured prompt ~ EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY


PHOTO-PROMPT Copyright Douglas M Mcilroy



 Every article, alive or dead, is physical matter made up of universal molecules, part of the whole. Each section has a unique story to relate. Every seashell was once a part of a life-form and has lived through a story. Timeless pebbles illustrate seas where waves washed and polished them over and over again. Empty wine and water bottles, beg the question, who consumed the contents? A timeless clock sits above the scene, displaying jumbled numbers obscuring the time. The artist constructed this work of art using driftwood from wrecks, and material from the seashore. Thereby hangs another tale.

Copyright ©  Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved