Promote a Poet/Writer Thursday, December 12, 2019

Please come and join in The Cafe’s Promote A Poet/Writer Thursday. This is a free event. Come share the work of a poet/writer that impressed you this week with The Cafe’s over 5,000 patrons!! Please let your followers know about this event by reblogging it.

Go Dog Go Café

Promote a Poet.Writer Thursday

Welcome to Promote a Poet/Writer Thursday! This is the day of the week where all members of the Go Dog Go Café Community are invited to introduce a Poet or Writer they enjoy reading.

Participating is really fast and simple- in the comments below, post the link for the Home Page of the Poet/Writer you are introducing to us and tell us briefly why you think they are special.

We encourage all of you to visit these blogs (or social media pages) and get acquainted with some great new writers.  You never know who you might meet. . .

Happy reading!

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Dark Poetry ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

It comes from the darkness
Late night to just before dawn
A chilling form of poetry
With a darkness all its own
Filled with evil spirits
Death, Devastation
And the Devil’s Daughters
Featuring the Devil herself
Everything good becomes evil
Everything evil is dominant
It is the dark side of a Poet
When he opens his mind fully
And the darkness overtakes him
When the dawn comes
The Poet puts down his pen
Closes his notebook
And prays for forgiveness

~The Tennessee Poet~

©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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Daily Prompts- Pearls of wisdom

Keep it alive

The ocean cannot be drained of water

The mind never vacant of ideas

A rule of thumb you can say is that

Never touch liveelectricity wires

Some truths of life are obvious and

Then there are others that you need to search

If you don’t tie a knot in the learning thread

You can gather wisdom pearl by pearl

In response to the following prompts;


Tie, Thumb, Electricity





Word of the day Challenge;







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Sarah Doughty

“These bones. They are branded
with your name. And I wonder, can you
hear my skin whispering, calling for you?”

These bones. They are branded with your name. And I wonder if you can hear my skin whispering, calling for you. As the moon rises, the iron of your grip will connect with my flesh, leaving nothing behind. My lips beg, “Please,” and you revel in every sound I make. You don’t respond. Because you don’t have to. I can read the hunger in your eyes as they devour me inch by agonizing inch. By the time our worlds collide, at long last, nothing else remains but the thundering of my heart, the sounds of our breathing, and the last coherent thought I hear, says, “So it begins,” before I become flame.

© Sarah Doughty

And so it begins.

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