HOPE

Thursday 5th April 2019

DAY FIVE

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-A-Day on Writers Digest

For today’s prompt, write a stolen poem. And no, don’t steal anyone’s poem! But you can write about doing such a thing. Or stealing hearts, stealing time, stealing minds.

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

HOPE


by John Yeo

My child has left and gone to work
I lie here alone with my thoughts,
I will not stir, I will not move, I am in pain.
My little girl Hope is twelve years old
Takes care of everything for us both,
Since her mother left us alone again.
When the sadness descended on me.

Hope gets up at dawn to prepare our meal,
Fetches water to wash the clothes,
She cleans the room and takes good care of me.
Hope hides when visitors come to the door
We both need her here to be free, with me.
Hope works in a sweatshop making clothes
for the fat people over the sea.

As I lie here alone the rats appear,
They scuffle around then leave, foodless.
When the landlord calls to collect the rent,
I have noticed the way he looks at my Hope
As she pays him from her paltry earnings.
Mischievous, malevolent lascivious looks
That bode no good for my child.

School for Hope was a couple of years
In a shack for a classroom until;
Her mother left us and Hope went to work.
She has no time for friends or parties
New clothes or games and playing sport,
No time for laughter or enjoying a book.
Hope is too busy working to stop and look.

Selfishly I lie here and let things be.
I know I can never let Hope be free
We are tied to each other irrecoverably,
It is too late for all but my sympathy.
I know I’m a thief and I can clearly see
I have stolen a precious commodity.
The innocent freedom of childhood.

©️Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

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THE GIFT OF LIFE

This article  was written for “QUINTET,” our Parish magazine, requesting submissions on the theme of Christmas Presents

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Image ©️Copyright John and Margaret ~ All rights reserved

THE GIFT OF LIFE

by John Yeo

 The Jackson family were well-known to everyone in the village, regular churchgoers they had made many friends over the years. Speculation had it that branches of the family had resided in this village since the days of William the Conqueror.
Tom Jackson had passed away five years before; he had been a churchwarden, chairperson on the Parish council and his wife Gina had been the hon.treasurer.

Their two sons, Ricardo and Ernesto had been a great comfort to their Mother.

Ricardo became a special forces soldier, serving in Afghanistan, with the SAS. Infrequent letters would arrive, describing the horror of war and his narrow escapes from the enemy. “We are involved in battles before they are officially fought, our undercover forces are on the attack. Our forces are involved in dogfights all over the city,”

One fateful day in November a telegram arrived Ricardo was missing in action, a hero who had saved many lives.

 Gina was devastated, many parishioners rallied around offering help and support. The situation for the family was looking grave, with Christmas the season of goodwill just around the corner.

 Then, without any warning Ernesto, her younger son was diagnosed with advanced kidney disease forcing him to undergo dialysis three times a week. Gina was absolutely shattered and asked for his name to be included in the church prayers list. A kidney transplant was the only solution.

Then one memorable day there was a knock on her cottage door and Ricardo her eldest son stood in front of her smiling. “Hello, Mum! I’m home! I escaped and I have some leave to use up.”

Shocked, Gina could hardly believe her eyes. “Welcome, home son!” Was all she could say with tears in her eyes.

When Ricardo heard about the plight of his brother Ernesto, he was quick to offer one of his own kidneys, which was obviously a perfect match.

Christmas Day arrived, and old Jeb the gardener displayed the perfect Christmas rose in Gina’s garden. “What an unbelievably beautiful rose, they say everything comes in threes. I have been blessed with three perfect Christmas presents.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Picture it and Write~~The River of Peace.

This is the latest Picture it and write prompt from Ermilia’s Blog

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2014/09/28/__picture-it-write-91/

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As usual the picture is supplied and credited to Nikita Gill by Emilia

The River of Peace

by John Yeo

Magically the river of forgetfulness will take all our troubles away. Trouble will float from our side of the river to your side. To balance this we will receive candles from your side containing all your troubles, then blow the flames out. This will destroy the evil and send your troubles away. I light my candle with hope, I fill the flames with my despair. I float the candle to you over there. Knowing you will blow it out and disperse my troubles with the wind. I will receive your candle with a prayer, Then blow your troubles away.

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

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