Quote of the Week


You don’t get better on the days when you feel like going. You get better on the days when you don’t want to go, but you go anyway. If you can overcome the negative energy coming from your tired body or unmotivated mind, you will grow and become better. It won’t be the best workout you have, you won’t accomplish as much as what you usually do when you actually feel good, but that doesn’t matter. Growth is a long term game, and the crappy days are more important.

-Georges St. Pierre

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Promote Yourself Monday- October 29, 2018

Come share your best work from this last week at the Go DogGo Cafe! Let over 4,400 viewers see what you’ve done.

Go Dog Go Café


Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday.  All Go Dog Go Cafe readers, guest writers, and baristas are invited to post one link to one specific post (600 words or less please!) from your blog into the comments section below.

If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.

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On This Date ~ #Poetry #encore

Come wish our friend, Dorinda, a Happy Birthday!!!

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

With each flickering flame, my years unfold

Tapering down, leaving days of untold

Dripping memories, of past events

Happier times, still I’m not quite content

Candelabra in hand, a welcoming light

The fire, still burning, with no end in sight

Celebrating the day, reaching for more

Wondering what this life has in store

As closer to Halloween, comes the time

Knowing I still haven’t yet reached my prime

So, I’ll blow out the candles, let the wax seal my fate

On this day in October, 2018, twenty-eight

In case you haven’t figured it out, today is my birthday. I originally posted this two years ago and have amended it to reflect this years date. I’m off for the day!  See you tomorrow  ❤

©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay

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Sweet Hell – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Mephistophelian – Word of the Day


Photo: pexels.com

Sweet Hell

I catch my breath,
though everyone else seems oblivious
that the air is acrid,
the night charged
swirling and dangerous.
I pray you won’t notice me,
and I would make some other pact
to sell my soul, because
if you look up,
I am gone, done for, bedevilled,
And if you smile that deliciously wicked smile
of promise I could never resist,
I’ll have no escape,
and the kind of sweet hell I dream of,
ache for,
will possess me once again.

©Paul Vincent Cannon



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