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…
-
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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In the words of my -Great Aunt Ella ( I attempt the Persona Poem)
This is a story often told as a child growing up- I never met my Great Aunt God rest her soul.
Chile-
“S-O-B treat me like that I’d kill-em all over again!
And If ya wanna go to hell-let’s travel!
He kept makin- that uh-noise
so I’se kept stitching me -dress.
I called the coroner office -as soon as he stopped.
Honey,
I’ve,never seen a man raise -his hand to a woman and live –
not while I’m good and
Able”!
Today, I challenge you to write a persona poem – a poem in the voice of someone else. Your persona could be a mythological or fictional character, a historical figure, or even an inanimate object. Need some examples? Check out this persona-poem-themed issue of Poemeleon from a few years back.
Happy writing!
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Since these words don’t come out right
may it be, the language of the dead
outloud I have said
To be brave is my therapy
the daunting chance –
losing it all,
Worth every spence
Since it is
I who must
answer the final-call
-
Dear Pen,
Throwing water through the sky
sometimes I cry without any reason or any need
Yet the melodies of breathing loudly,
Ohay-Ohey ,
This joy,
I find -hiding and seeking
underneath the journey of my purse
in the back alleys, off sidewalks
Ohay-Ohey,
I stoop, breaking through silence-halls in my mind
I empty all my
worries-siftingOhay-Ohey,
growing up in courage
we’ll meet again.
-
A fiery-baptism
softens each wayward night
Speaking in tongues
of my ancestors-kin
laying under each stoney-neck
Purging the confessions of the wind
Swinging clicks
stroke of cotton
lead astray
One hundred and eighty degrees
I believe.
-
She had crumbled before
throwing hands right above the stippled light.
This time, her eyes were squared
distilling the faintest of frozen dust.
Her thirst was cleaver
anticipating her stage
She could really take flight.
Just,
Tonight.
Give it all you got!
Even if it is just another bust,
Exhale
-
I saw one withered creature
begging for an extra soul.
After-all he had spent
fixing damaged hearts
I saw one, without hands and yet he managed to play
the only game he ever knew
and so he begged
his life away.
Krissy Mosley Ministries 