Krissy Mosley Ministries

The words we write

the words we tell ourselves in secrets

seep under the door cracks into the hallways

flushed in turning facets, running to the rescue

of words often said merging in the dark

riding the waves we’ve built – untapped potential

essential-salt

kindness sis Krissy :_)

Losing has taught me that when there’s darkness,

and trust me there will be

darkness and will have its stare,

come alive in you

bare you into being

prepare a table before you

dainty golden living

picks you clean off the bone

then you can be yourself

when the lights finally turn,

you’ll be ready.

kindness sis Krissy

In the mini lives, I’ve lived

I’ve been

a social worker

a maid

a wife

a teacher

a street sweeper

and now I must write…

kindness sis. Krissy

So many thoughts are dancing across my mind. As I try and post this. In the past, I was cracking 50,000 words by the seat of my pants.

Oh no, its’ here again it’s here! Deep breaths, Krissy.

This year I’ve taken a more even kill -attacking my novel with a little more planning. Do I suck, yeah! Most likely I will. Cracking up, as I spill the tea. Okay, so I’m a terrible speller. Which many on my blog may know quite well. I think poetry has been my vain for so long it’s hard to flip the switch sometimes. ( which even in poetry my flaws show)

Nevertheless, year after year, I try and suck -onto the page as fast as my- long bony fingers will allow. I do feel more prepared this year. Strangely, yes, which can easily be my downfall. Call me superstitious, like the runner throwing up before the whistle blows -that’s me- my inners they’ be flying all over the place. Somersaults, backflips and the landing is somewhere -novel- somewhere- poetry. Somewhere questioning why in God’s green earth, why do I keeping trying my hand at writing. Only to have writing call my bluff.(sucker!)

In between all that in my head. I tend to drink plenty of water, eat my kids’ junk food. Hey! Only when they’re not looking( don’t judge, I got issues okay). My husband does try and pick up the slack for the month since he knows, I’m in writer’s mode and having all kinds of self-talks- character trips.

So here’s to another year if you’d like to be buddies my user name look for me under  Krissy Mosses and I’ll be writing at the stroke of midnight or rather crying whichever happens first. 🙂

Cheers to NaNoWriMo kindness sis. Krissy

There are multitudes of blessings waiting…

everywhere I go in my dreams,

I ‘ve been an old woman,

a goat, a slave, then I am young

Phillis Wheatley, reading wa-a-y before my time

on the precipice of tiny clad-anchors, holding mighty ships

together, the bit in a horse’s mouth carrying precious cargo by the saddle,

sobbing up direction,

relics of fleshy-pound clay.  Sutures of umbilical cord strung long lineages/women spilling into children- children spilling into themselves – themselves spilling back into graves

laughter hanging out with baptist…

post-slavery we-free-people – still understanding freedom/exhausted/spoiled on another mans’ misfortunes

that freedom might not have been an understatement – blue haze/ built in-spoon

making revolution /never been pretty in pink

dress for the ball.

smell death coming/running/trying to get the blood out the bone/

running/moving up yonder/playing song and shadow

kindness sis krissy