Pay It Forward Thursday- August 16, 2018

Go Dog Go Café

The baristas at Go Dog Go Cafe are big fans of Pay It Forward Thursdays. We think it is a great opportunity to give a shout-out to another writer who has wowed us or creatively inspired us.  However, Pay It Forward Thursday has not been getting a lot of love lately, which we think is a shame. Dear reader, you are losing out on some great writing! We’ve decided to shake things up a little and the baristas will be reblogging our Pay It Forward picks for the week directly onto GDG Cafe so you don’t miss out on our favorites.

We like this idea so much that we will also reblog the posts you think were the best thing you read this week if you drop a link below. You are invited to post one link to one specific post (600 words or less please!) from someone…

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Love yourself first ❤😘😘

Ballet of Poetry

The Lonely Author

,

With a pirouette of personification
She ignited her carousel of fantasy
As slow enchanting adagio verses
Freed me from my loveless tragédie

Under my spotlight ballon rhymes
Made my heart skip a graceful beat
With her assemblé rhymes floating
She slowly swept me off of my feet

Who could resist such choreography
For her entrée had me from the start
When my prima ballerina performed
A ballet of poetry in my aching heart

.

Photo from Google Images.

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Turning

House of Heart

I feel the season changing,

the tilt of Earth’s axis,

the days growing shorter

the night’s  desire to linger.

Summer seemed boundless,

now the sundial casts long shadows.

I will miss  you with your

brand of ripeness,

August’s   lustrous brightness

inciting the senses with fields

afire beneath a summer sky.

Now its wheat is  stacked and

bound  in lonely batches.

Buried beneath autumn leaves

the earth  imbues the darker hues

starless skies of delft blue and

gray swathes  that cloak the dawn.

The ash of burning  locust wood

shrouds the wilting garden with

the musky scent of autumn ghosts

heralding the chill.

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Like moss

Haiku out of Africa

you have grown on me making the days much warmer ~ after years of cold — © Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa

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road regrets

My words

Megha's World

My words are falling incessantly

from that oak tree

lying in the refuge

at the bottom 

of that big old giant

waiting for the mercy of the wind 

to gently glide and take 

away to promised lands

where they were strewn again 

or kept in the folds of the 

those yellow pages to remind

us again

how beautiful 

our love used to be.

My words are falling as the 

broken star

deep in the thickness of the night

falling

and floating endlessly in the

trying not to get lost in the deep oblivion

of the darkness

not to miss the bereaved sight of my lover

so she 

can wish upon me.

My words are dropping as

the sweet droplets of water

those tiny globules

as the tears of the heaven

of all the broken hearts 

lost in their deep soliloquy

not trying to lose their identity

till it parches the soul

and quenches 

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You have permission…

Sacred Touches

**Photo taken in her yard by Natalie; text added by Natalie

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Secret

Poet's Corner

When the sands
of our deeper selves
shift, slide, scald
at 3 a.m.,
when buried grief
slithers out again,
the night holds its
breath a moment,
exhales and the Eastern
sky brightens.
Safe again, we wake.

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Swift as swallows

Jane Dougherty Writes

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt, a cinquain.

Moments

dear to my heart

pass as swift as swallows

on narrow wings, specks in the sky,

leaving.

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