I thought I would spend time writing about freedom from writer’s block.
FREEDOM
by John Yeo
Soaring freely with the winds of time Writing requires much persistence Expressing feelings is so hard to define. ~ Eyes searching the terrain sublime Looking for inspirational assistance
Soaring freely with the winds of time. ~
Swooping low before you can climb Searching for continued existence Expressing feelings is so hard to define. ~ To stretch imagination is never a crime In spite of harsh critical resistance Soaring freely with the winds of time. ~ Fulfilling a hunger hard to prime Pushing hard with a sharp insistence Expressing feelings is so hard to define. ~
Hunting for perfection in any instance Fighting against a passive resistance Soaring freely with the winds of time Expressing feelings is so hard to define.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Daily Post on WordPress’
Prompt ~THE TRANSPORTER
Tell us about a sensation – a taster, a smell, a piece of music, that takes you back to childhood.
The boyhood of Raleigh by John Everett Millais 1870
THE TRANSPORTER
by John Yeo
The sensation that is the strongest transporter back to my childhood will always be a strong smell of ronuk fXxurniture and floor polish. Our school reception area was full of highly polished panelled wood, with a polished wooden floor. These wooden areas were kept highly polished by the school cleaners, using ronuk, floor and furniture polish. The powerful smell of this wax polish will live with me forever.
However, there was another sense at work in this area that will always stay with me and that is the sense of curiosity and wonder every time I gazed at a painting that was prominently displayed in the main entrance area. Every time I passed this work of art, I would spend ages just standing, soaking up this image, surrounded by a strong smell of ronuk floor and furniture polish.
In the foreground of the painting was a bearded man
wearing a distinctive hat, seated in front of a beached fishing boat.
The fisherman was in conversation with two young boys
pointing to a distant horizon with one hand, while holding a fishing net with the other hand.
THE HORIZON
by John Yeo
A distant horizon, where the clouds meet the sea
An unbroken line as far as the eye could see
Representing mystery and imagination to the schoolboy mind.
A gateway to the unknown an escape route from reality,
The sailor, telling tales of wonder across the waves.
~
Waves as high as mountains and fish as big as a man.
Huge sea monsters with many humps spouting spume
Swordfish, mermaids, sharks and pearls in shells
I would stand and be transported to distant lands
Journey to places I was encountering in classes.
~
Ivory and the slave trade, copra, with spices
Sandy islands with Palm trees and Robinson Crusoe,
Cannibals and treasure with footprints in the sand.
Pirates and corsairs with cutlass and gunpowder.
Gold-filled galleons sailing the storm-tossed seas.
~
Hornpipe, sea shanties, shipwreck and disease.
Colourful birds flying high above the waves
Leading the traders to many distant lands,
Jungles, filled with lions, bears and monkeys,
Elephants and tigers, and strange perfumed flowers.
~
Faraway lands filled with milk and honey
With many peoples of the world in traditional dress.
Contrasting strange lives of splendour, and sad distress.
Deserts with oasis and camel train routes from the east.
The mystical oriental thousand and one tales of wonder.
~
Magic lamps with genies granting wishes galore.
The science of Arabia, the wisdom of China and more.
The perilous journey home across the seas braving storms
Carrying the cargo from ports and people round the world.
Unload a hold full of fish mend the nets whilst ashore.
~
A dream-filled reverie cut short with a caustic shout to implore.
‘You there! Stop daydreaming boy, and cut along to classes’.
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..
The block is in place and creativity is impossible. Life pressures build, and priorities change, the writing and the creative process have ground to a halt. Tossing and turning in bed at night, seems just to make the block far worse, almost insoluble. How to alleviate the misery and begin to write? The way to deal with a dam is, of course, to puncture it and unleash the contents.
Relaxation is the key and the first step in the process of unblocking, is just to breathe and allow the creative juices to flow. A wide ranging reading session of some very good books will help to generate ideas, and start to puncture the dam, fertile thought tends to generate fertile thought.
The fertility and the greenness of “Mother-Nature” and all things growing and fighting for survival, make up a very very large slice of the creative oeuvre. Walking the lanes or working in the garden, will do wonders to stimulate thought and to germinate the seeds that will turn into wonderful creative ideas.
The puncture of the dam is now well and truly under way a tiny trickle of ideas for creative writing has now become a continual seep.
Never be afraid to ask for help along the way, many people have suffered and overcome the dreaded block, and the road to inspiration is well travelled. Guidance is always available, sometimes in unlikely guises, as well as the obvious leadership that is always available.
Lastly the secret of turning that regular seep of ideas into a flood of inspiration, is to look around you. Take careful note of how others are learning slowly to cope, in a generally uninspiring world, and come to terms with the block through belief in themselves and belief in a far greater inspiration.
CRIMSON CLOVER COMPASSIONS 
