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Poetry Written and Spoken by Krissy Mosley 2022 -
My little heart is full of joy as I woke to all of these beautiful poets cheering me on in today’s feature on https://www.napowrimo.net/ Never in a million year’s did I think I’d hit the floor like that! Thank you so much, I’m honored and humbled to be with all of the poets . Okay on with today’s poem….
Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com if I should be so bold to make it out
of my own head,
taste the sounds of stillness,
sit beside my own bed, as quiet streams,
melt away the frays of infirmity,
breathe that first breath of daylight,
fires that spark, that quake,
spindle, loom
aching in the dark,
burning candles at both ends,
flame, steam, huffs-
puffs of purpose
the sum total,
breathing,
where the
quiet bends.
Poet Krissy Mosley 2022 -
Photo by Artem Saranin on Pexels.com All night long I sat up listening to the sky
breaking herself into the day
clapping,moans, and thunderous -bay
causing me to wake, I stood outside
about half- a while,
listening to the sky pray.
eeking,and sinking heavy
emanations abundantly -full
smiling-rain,
fragrantly , she smelled like roses
picked after -thorns,
she smelled familiar like I knew her,
rain has descendants – tribal lessons on-the-go
on sidewalks you dare not be a child at heart and pass
concrete puddles, splashing into the green-glass,
beatitudes of leaks to bless your home,
of wet wood, and floors to drip
O’ you thirsty soul
you will sing -showers of blessings
even me, let some drops now fall on me
Poet Krissy Mosley 2022 -
Photo by Devon Rockola on Pexels.com In April I become as soft as rain
trusting the distance in landing
if every day was Sunday then I’d
paint the sky with the poets
awaken, Amiri Baraka, and give us your chisel edge stroke “Who blew up America”
awake, Gil Scott Heron, sideleaf brush as common folk “Living in the Bottle”
awaken, Phillis Wheatley, a fine stroke of transparency
“remember christan, Negroes Black as Cain
May be refin’d and join th’angelic train”
awake, awake, get up Mary Oliver “tell me what it is,
you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
oh I could go on & live in sky-meetings as words themselves,
where the dead poets paint my world brand
spanking
new
my sky would run -red with love
as love is..
Poet Krissy Mosley -
Photo by Pok Rie on Pexels.com Can I help stretch a smile across your face
relieve a tiny spec of stress in any place
can I give you hug, a taste of gladness
hidden-treasures throughout the madness,
even if the tears must run,
let them drop the dew,
of the you -you are becoming…
and after that spit -fire
slay dragons in their sleep
even the world can’t see you coming
A hidden-reprieve
to pardon the weary spirit
and put your soul at ease
sooner than later
we’ll exchange our holes of grief
fletch us some sunshine
P.S. I’m here for you, until it passes
your weeping warrior💜
Poet Krissy Mosley 2022 -
by me To pray you in the morning
as you reach the highest you
blue moons make magic awakenings
so rare, it only finds -you
at the moment of your whole self
anchored in the sweetest surprise of the gifts
that you are breathing in the sparkling fleet of angels
that ride, to carry into
God aspirations, breathing out -your soul is prosperous
and the bluebird sings her prayers in agreement
in answered prayers fields that moment you begin to pray
the prayer is heard, God thinking good- God thoughts about you
salt of the earth, a sound of many oceans, skipping out into the ethers’
leaping joy -glory- bearing-joy, the burning bush, is always with you
is always who you are,
so take off your shoes, you are
holy ground,
holy ground.
you are.
Poet Krissy Mosley 2022 -
Photo by Andrew Jones on Pexels.com Let this poem, be the poem that finally
swallows my ego,
where i have died a thousand and one
deaths, only to die again tomorrow,
Let this poem be the blade of judgment,
and bring back a compassionate plea,
blessed be the ointment of my soul,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
tears falling like monsoons out of season,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
broken like the alabaster box at the feet of Jesus,
and I will know how it feels to feel alive,
like the woman with the issued of blood,
twelve long years bleeding out
this single prayer,
and I will know this prayer sits at
the door, patiently waiting for me,
to come
home. Poet Krissy Mosley video created and spoken by me
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Beauty of uncertainty,
I am the one that is changing,
gathering in paper-poems,
the world is held together
falling apart in sunsets
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com trees bemoan their creaking
bowing branches are drummers
of the sky. What’s breathing me ?
The Tree and I are entities of the same
The tree is aware of me, and I silence myself,
in company.
dare to breathe, I say, tree winds knocking on my soul
dare to synchronize deep magic of leaf
dare to utter oak prayers in the park or in the pew
bless now I pray, the tree and I never stop ,never do
like hungry perspiration
in the spring,
rings of mysteries,
ancestral interceding’s,
intervening,
the tree has become my teacher
and I the ever-eager student.
Poet Krissy Mosley 2022 -
Water On The Moonlight by Joyce Campbell is licensed under CC-BY-NC 4.0 come on in dear soul
tip-away, the pointy shoes of your sole,
slip on these plushy comfortable(s)
let this be a great exchange, (soft note)
our bluesy screams, bend notes while fading
arrange every high-low,
if there’s still a howl in you, unintending,
swallow the breathless mountain, fill the holes
unburdened wholeheartedly
my syrupy- dreams gotta run, but sit in the note
falsetto’s gotta blow
come back tomorrow,
there will be
jazz and gladness
salt of the music
sits quietly in the moonlight
Poet Krissy Mosley -
Photo by Erika Quirino on Pexels.com tapping into love’s distilling light
with the devotion of aroma,
all of its own,
beckoning my spirit to remember,
tender-lifts of frankincense,
and cranberry teas,
I sip at the beauty,
I embrace the awakener in me,
retrieve the roots of my soul
and hold them lightly,
dripping coils of wonder
the golden lantern
I am becoming Poet Krissy Mosley
Krissy Mosley Ministries 