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Promote a Poet/Writer Thursday | August 15, 2019

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

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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Fibbing Friday July 19 JULY 19, 2019~THE HAUNTED WORDSMITH

/ mbrazfieldm / 19 Comments

Friday is here and you know what that means! Time to take off the good boy and girl clothes and put your fibbing caps on. What are the greatest whoppers you can spin for today’s questions?

  1. Why is there an ‘e’ on the end of toe but not potato? “Po-ta-toe were triplets and they had an uncle To who lost his “e” in a jousting debacle. So that uncle To(e) wouldn’t bleed to death nephew toe donated his “e” to his uncle. Little toe didn’t need it, the “e” was an extra appendage like a tail.
  2. What did the lettuce say to the rabbit? “If you eat me you might get e.coli.”
  3. What is the best type of stick? “Oh ho ho, naughty naughty…tisk, tisk!”
  4. Why are wheat crackers so tasty? “I need to ask someone who eats them.”
  5. What happens at the rainbow factory on clear days? “They hose down the equipment and re-stock it with unicorn farts, they’re hard to get, like truffles.”
  6. Which item of clothing is the most jealous? “The panty is horribly jealous of the ski mask. Panty would rather be stuck to a pair of face cheeks rather than the bottom ones, poor dear.”
  7. How did a boat get in the middle of the desert? “That’s Noah’s he’s been lookin’ for it!”
  8. What kind of dessert is best served in the desert? “Rock candy, no wait, yes, a chocolate fountain, mmmmmmm……”
  9. What should an Englishman send an Australian for Christmas? “Personally, I think they should both be sending me presents.”
  10. What really happened in the Hellfire Caves? “Some person thought they could replicate Heisenberg’s recipe.”
  11. Why do ghosts exist? “They were in the Hellfire Caves.”
  12. Where do everlasting gobstoppers come from? “That cheap dude from Australia from question #9. He thought it was funny to send me one as a gift.”
  13. Where do dreams come from? “The Subaru commercials and too much extra cheese pizza.”

LAST DAY FOR BOOK PROMO!!

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

I Write Her

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I’m giving away one signed copy of Feeling Human and Every Day I Pause! To qualify in this giveaway, you need to go to both my Facebook page AND Twitter account. You’ll need to Follow and Like to get notifications from I Write Her. Everyone who takes these steps AND either shares or tweets this post is entered for a chance to receive a copy of each book!

Here, I’ll make it easy for you…

  1. Go to I Write Her FACEBOOK Page – LIKE THE PAGE!
  2. Go to I Write Her TWITTER Feed – FOLLOW!
  3. Share this announcement and encourage your friends, family or readers to enter too! You can do this by reblogging this announcement on your blog so it pings back, post on your Facebook page or Tweet it out with this hashtag – #IWHBOOKS.

And it starts NOW! Giveaway chance ends TODAY!!

Remember, you have to…

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Beautiful Little Girl

/ mbrazfieldm / Leave a comment

to all my sisters and brothers with much love thank you Precious ❤

The Brink of Insanity

Hey lovely bloggers😊. Let me share a lil bit of my personal experience with you all. Twas fun writing this and I hope it helps someone out there 😉

Happy reading 😁

Growing up I was labeled as ugly because of my beautiful dark skin and nappy hair. Beautiful was something else but definitely not my skin color and myself. So I started having self esteem issue, self hatred and low self confidence. I often wanted to change myself into something that woul fit their description of beauty but I couldn’t change who I was.

Beautiful was that light skinned girl with long straight hair and a thin figure. Something I was absolutely not.

Growing up I realised that what I was exposed to when I was little somehow affected how I see myself and that’s sad really. When someone would tell me that I’m beautiful I’d have that voice…

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Lenguaje cinematográfico

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un poema de amor bellisimo del Poeta
um lindo poema de amor do Poeta
a beautiful love poem from Poeta

Hernán Mejía Silva

Un suspiro ganado en historia pasada

Película vieja, historia olvidada

Un beso que se pierde, otro que florece

Al final, el día envejece…

Añoro tu compañía y tu brillo

Entre las imposibilidades de la vida, está nuestra historia

Grito fuerte que retumba sin memoria

Amar en lenguaje cinematográfico nunca es sencillo

Te busco y no te encuentro

Solo se que te llevo dentro

En olas de melancolía y añoranza

Guardando como un tonto, alguna esperanza…

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pink paws

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

The walls spun around as the grains of steamed rice rolled off the table top like drops of mercury. Asian ladies watched in slow motion as thick moisture atop my brow trickled into a stream. My mouth parched and cottony could no longer pass air through my teeth to form words. I used my eyes to find contact, to cry for help. Nothing. Just stares. The breezes coming through to cool down the sweaty wanderers in the buzzing basement had now spun into typhoon winds crashing into my body.

Guatemalan gawkers and Salvy breast touchers hovered over my limp body laid out in crucifix formation on the concrete floor.    

“Nina, nina, are you okay?” said one Oaxacan with a blinking Bluetooth on his left ear.

From where my head laid, I could see the plastic bags filled with pea green plantains, shrimp and Jose Cuervo. One woman with thick legs and a large camel toe bent over me, almost in a bowing formation. I thought I was saved.

“Rafa, Rafa, coll de fire meinz, andale!!” She belted out as she turned her great ass toward my face and the light went out.

No one read minds. Had someone known that my chest was imploding and my soul hovered above me playing poker with John Fante, they would have called for help much sooner.