cedar’s press, maple sapp,
oppression seared lightly in
mailboxes,streetlights, and stop signs
many times have I washed,
but the soap of justice
has yet to cleanse my moral mind
-
while the wall close in
no waters to pour in my cup
not God or man can change
the hurting tongues
-
A lonely place,
with salvation and intention
Running waters while I weep:
Dredging undefine pipelines
dredging underneath insecurities
dredging backward toward
gravity’s feet
separating the void-nothingness
In the beginning…
-
Open doors to me
lover dance so gently
like summer’s heat
like silver streams of mercy
like silver honey
like healing doors
for all of me…
-
No smoke No fire:
I don’t know where the sea joined me,but the sea had come.I noticed along every path,through tunnels and useful roads the trees were meaner. Their presence just like me giggled at the chance to see single drops pouring sideways .I stood there in foggy bushes,evergreens and hogweeds.The trees danced with swirls, I tried to mimic. Pillowing further into my thoughts, rushing to steam off such bias helpings, the trees .
As if to say, remember the void. Nothingness ,thee great gulf that separated the waters. That holy occurrence, that made heaven real and called light day.Upon this firmament- rested during the night and breathed into man’s nostrils. To make the first souls.Or else, Noah would return – preach good tidings once more. Earth would be destroyed. Instead of holy water he’d bring the hurricane -the ocean and all its power. Elated into joy, there was no more need of one pitiful suicide but all of us could die together.
I have taken time off to finish a fictional Novel I’d started. I am learning so much about life and myself as I attempt to edit and rewrite 147 pages.Yes I am a newbie when it comes to writing books. I am enjoying the ride.Any editing tips would be gratefully appreciated .
If you like what you have read, please consider making a donation in any amount in order to build a better website and reach Visionariekindness goals…
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Hope is
but a mere
faithful
friend
-
Morning Breeze
brings me
Happiness
I have taken a small blogging break. It feels good in this space. Still loving life and dancing to the wind.I’m not quite sure when I’ll blog daily. After-all the wind is magical landing in my ear. Whispering to me write,dance and sing, This is me, doing my weekly Poetry…(all rights reserved2015)
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Ode my spirit
strumming
chimer -ing straws of memories
I was called here
bumming rides on-wombs of mercy
Ode spirit – shivering greatness -in birth
Ham-bone and grinning
Junes’ Snow
Blueberry oak
Expanding in Milk and Honey
Ode spirit,
I’ve come…
I’ve come, home.
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(Free google image)
His hat hung just above the tiled brow.
Formerly he wore his best,
High altered pursuit -Ivory Grey
Drinking -dusty winds
Perching, gently its blue-ish bill.
Practicing his craft on human-rubbish
Gliding his hallowed cry – eeeer.
Against ghetto ‘s, sand-dunes,war zones and cliffs too
Robotic faces shhing feathered hands
still on he came,
Proudly, shaking the bear,
Resiliently, greeting lion cubs,
Flying parallel with each blustery storm.
Protected by the universe, Mr. Sea Gull.
Today I did not follow the prompt, I’ve gone my own way. I meet a beautiful friend today and thought I’d share my feelings. National Poetry is coming to a close.I felt much pressure writing. I’ve enjoyed each fresh rhythmic line. I have much to be thankful for. Writing is my water,my glass-slippers to the ball.My healing. Writing is my friend. All Rights Reserved 2015.
Please check out NaPoWriMo here for today’s prompt if you like:
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Sanity -Night,
Hog-weeds are much taller in late-spring.
Miles of untapered
Normality-falling into
shard-glass.
Hearts-pumping in misery
Watching the sun and moon hold hands
pressing breast to breast -ironsmithing, effervescent
breathing…
Fabric-wrapping Emerald’s
Violet kisses through subway tracks,
stretching printed patterns that make each girl,
Rich,
giggling in spoons of love.
In this poem I give my abstract attempt of bridge in love…So as I saw the moon and I saw the sun too I say “well now these two gift me such a delightful treat…and that’s when the words came..
Today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.
Happy writing!
Krissy Mosley Ministries 