Promote Yourself Monday March 18, 2019

Come promote a poem or piece of yours at the Cafe’s event. Let 4,700 patrons see your talents!! Come join in the fun at the Cafe!!

Go Dog Go Café

Promote yourself Mon

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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“At least I understood that writing was this: an impulse to…”

Don’t Miss this quote by Brenda Ueland and the notes at the end

Art of Quotation

b ueland

“At least I understood that writing was this: an impulse to share with other people a feeling or truth that I myself had. Not to preach to them, but to give it to them if they cared to hear it.”

― Brenda Ueland, 1891-1985, author If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit, journalist, editor, freelance writer, and teacher of writing

More on Brenda at the likestrawberrytea Blog!

Sure, a writer writes, but is there more to it than that? Reading Brenda Ueland’s If you Want to Write, I have started to wonder if being a writer is also about seeing the world in a particular way—being present to what is happening around you, observing details that others might gloss over, and when possible, writing the down and storing them up for some later creation…

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Carnal Fuel

Go Dog Go Café

carnal fuel1

Fuel my fire

he did

erotic words

closely whispered

licking flames

needing to burn

famished hands

kindling aches

needing to roar

grabbing hips

forcing tight with his

ardent cadence

of carnal pulse

pushing slow with tease

deeper and deeper

my embers billowed

his body aware

quickened rhythm

taking hold

scorching nakedness

out of control

heated screams erupting

orgasm flooding fire

lust-filled blaze

slowly calming

smoldering desire

wrapped tightly together


©MidwestFantasy/Beth Amanda

March 2019


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Only He

Poetry & Stories

I wish to write,

A poem as beautiful as the butterfly.

As colourful and bright,

Shining in the sunlight.

Magical to the eye,

Floating in the sky.

Goes on without any reservations or map,

Like it’s wild sprit one can’t trap.

Silly me just writes,

But only he can create beautiful butterflies.

Copyright Word Hunter©

P.C Pexels

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