Day: June 19, 2019

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, June 18, 2019

~ thereluctantpoet

Come and join the fun with The Go Dog Go Cafe’s free event!! Get your creative juices flowing and come share with over 4,900 patrons. Be sure and reblog the Event Page so your followers can participate too!!

Go Dog Go Café

Devereaux Frazier and Beth Amanda are currently hosting the Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge which was started by our star writer Christine Ray. We hope to offer all of you something that will spark your creativity and willingness to participate.

The prompts are designed to be quick challengesthat can be written in 10 to 15minutes,inspire you creatively, are fun, and get everyone interacting. Please post your response to the prompt in the comments below and show your fellow posters some love and support. All members of the Go Dog Go community, including Baristas, are welcome to participate. Feel free to share this post on yourown blogs and/or Facebook.

Today’s prompt: Use broken children in a piece of writing

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3 Day 3 Quotes (Day 1) – Power of Smile

~ thereluctantpoet

Confab With Me

I was nominated by Lyndsey for the 3 Days, 3 Quotes challenge. Lyndsey is an amazing person, possess a charming personality, and a beautiful soul. Her unique writing style is intriguing and witty. I will highly recommend my fellow bloggers to visit her site and enjoy reading her thoughtful, funny and lovely posts.

I prefer posting my own quotes. Let me know your views.

Day 1 Quote 1

img_9120Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

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The Wall – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

~ thereluctantpoet

parallax

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Fretboard of Poetry

bike-1505039_1280.jpg

Photo: pixabay.com

The Wall

The wall,
amalgam of clay and fire
stands boldly,
but time smiles benignly
knowing full well that it must
eventually give way
slowly,
frittering and fretting
as washed by life,
revealing
a softness so strong
it has no need of that
hardened,
calloused skin.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Fret refers to a number of things – worry, to be consumed, and to be worn down. It was an old masons term for the deterioration of bricks.

Paul, pvcann.com

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Birth Of A Poet ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

~ thereluctantpoet

Walt's Writings

My nights are filled
With sweet dreams and starlight
I am always overcome with wonder
As my dreams carry me through the universe
Rainbows and lollipops float by
Choreographed by the spirit in the sky
As celestial voices sing their songs
My angelic guides fly me to the moon
As I float along on my sea of dreams
Every night brings something new
Mr. Sandman is dressed in indigo blue
I realize then what I must do
I was born a poet
So that’s what I do

~The Tennessee Poet~
 ©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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All I Have Of Us

~ thereluctantpoet

Sarah Doughty

“Until my last breath, I’m going to fight
for what we were, what we are,
and what we could be.”

All I have of us are tiny grains of sand. One brush of your fingers on my cheek here. One gentle kiss — warm, soft lips against mine there. A laugh here, a cry there. Those grains were us. All that we were. All that we could be. And as I feel those grains slipping between my fingers, I feel us disappearing with them. I feel those moments slipping away. I’m faced with an age-old question — do I fight? To keep you mine. In my arms. In my life. Or, do I let you slip away, right along with the sand?

I choose to fight. Until my last breath — or you tell me it’s over — I’m going to fight for what we were, what we are, and what we…

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Free to let My Beard Grow, a poem by Mark Tulin

~ thereluctantpoet

Crow On The Wire

I may live unsheltered,
not knowing when my next meal
will come;
my shoes may have holes in its soles
and my pride ripped and torn,
but I have no care in the world.
I’m free of convention,
free of the balls and chains
that restrict and bind.

Don’t feel sorry
when you see me pulling a cart
across a busy street
‘cause I’m free to let my beard grow,
free to collect bottles and coins,
free to walk at my own pace
without a clock to control my time.
Nothing’s chasing me.
Nothing’s stopping me 
from exercising my personal liberty.

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