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- Love is my feel-good tea.
- My Sunday Morning Hey-Ya,
- My shake and bake,
- Love is the things I can not see.
- Love is my power, no man can control
- Love is letting go.
- Love is effortless.
- Love is how the trees are made.
- Love is my whirlwind
- Love is leaping through the universe.
“God is Love”
invited to Love in ten Sentences posted by: themissiontomars
Sending it forward I invite these Artist to share what Love is In ten Sentences
Post on your site and share the link with us.. Peace and Love
keep it going…
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Steel blue salt,
In the waters that doth not stale.
The greatest fear is to fail.
Salt blue steel.
Soulful lessons with each tide.
Till I, shake the need for dying.
Til I, manifest, solid visions of my dreams.
Til the Urchins of the sea, find a home past the thieves.
Caught between the thickets of its kind.
Reeled forward holding lines.
Hook in gills
Gills in hooks
Reflections, of unsung stories
all that lies before me
tis but, Pearls of Opportunities.
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Naw,naw naw.
Don’t go crying down my kitchen sink.
Shadow-calling God in Make believe.
Somewhere past the moon squares.
Where men are made of snow.
Fiery rains a comin,
Ya can’t fix stupid, everywhere you go.
Poetry Writing Challenge Fog-Today’s form, the elegy ,poetic device Metaphor
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Skipping light,gotta find time to be,
Kind,letting go suicidal humming;she’ll rise above, wrinkled lines.
If she could only see, the colors in her own glass.
Never then, would she pretend to be trapped, instead she’d be free.
Today’s word is trust:Writing Poetry 201 Challenge
To trust myself is a challenge after so many falls and let downs…(trusting the skin I’m in)
Happy writing….
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Can it Be?
Borrowed Love.
And she ain’t dead.
Inside my head.
Stupidly sitting.
.
On highways left side.But she can’t spare, her own socks full of sorrows,
all because,
she borrowed love.
Day 2,Journey
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She was not just a pretty orange to peel.Her vitamin c, drove back the mucus of icicles.
Hacking deeply like rusty faucets,
sputtering brown,
then yellow ,almost pasty clear.
She would not quit, come too far in the snow.
Open the oceans wide and you’ll find me.
In the arms of hope,
I’m finding my way to life….
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I saw a homeless man,shoveling urban trash,
broken glass and all the city’s gumbo;
boiling with winter’s feet.
No pity he plowed
Philly’s streets.
His ringing cell phone surprised my empty pockets.
Rolling onto highways asking speeding cars for change.
The iron cage spoke plain.
“God Bless you girl,
all men are human,
we all just the same.”
Poet Krissy Mosley ©2014 -
Judah’s Birth
Men say, giving birth is a beautiful thing…
I agreed silently until my turn came.
Laying flat on a table.
exposed, vulnerable,
anticipating the cry of a newborn.
Nightfall – raining, pouring, down on the windows.
my body traveling through multiple changes
10 centimeters deep Dilating…
Sounds of medical staff in the distance.
I could hear doctors say to get her prep right away.
What was wrong?
Having my baby too soon.
Underdeveloped lungs, bad prenatal care, transferred from here to there.
Throwing up my bowels.
Eight months three weeks
Bleeding internally.
“Count to ten”, said the doctor,
placing the oxygen mask over my face.
Reflecting,
making peace with the soul maker.
I thought I was eating right; working so hard to keep my status of medical care and salary.
Going to school did I mention working.
The daily stress of being a wife, friend, keeping up w/ the status of my foes.
Pursuing my dreams.
listening to crowds, testify ,suck it up girl, don’t quit,
Legs and arms were swollen from being on my feet, consuming too much salt.
A prizefighter black eyes, white lips
I gave birth on the emergency table,
cutting my baby, out of me…
The nurse leaned, she said, “its all your fault you know”.
Day three up on my side.
Wheeled around to NICU, observing my daughter, fight for her life.
Three pounds 13 ounces tubes everywhere.
Staring at her frail body, watching her bones breathe under the hot light.
Crying and praying asking for forgiveness.
Telling God I didn’t know.
Pumping milk for a baby who couldn’t suck for several days.
I named her Judah.
Poet Krissy Mosley
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