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Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • To My Grieving Friends: #NaPoWriMo Day23

    April 23rd, 2022
    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

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  • My Body is the Temple: aka Holy Ground Day22 #NaPoWriMo Happy Earth Day

    April 22nd, 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

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  • Bones of the Poem: Day21 #NaPoWriMo

    April 21st, 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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  • Symphony of Trees Day 20 #NaPoWriMo

    April 20th, 2022

    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

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  • Day17 #NaPoWriMo After The Cross: Happy Easter

    April 17th, 2022
    Photo by David Dibert on Pexels.com

    rising in the silence,

    sweeping softly

    on April -winds

    leaping bountifully in all that life is,

    bushy-tail and wide open sky

    serenade our prayer meetings

    with cherry evergreens

    on the wings of evening

    affirming a

    renewed-resurgence

    I relax on the

    precipice of peace

    I release my need to worry

    I lean into paradise

    paradise leans into me

    after the cross , there is glory

    after the cold winter there is spring

    after the weeping-waters

    there is joy in the morning

    Poet: Krissy Mosley2022

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  • This is Not Goodbye : Just See you Later: #NaPoWriMo Day16

    April 16th, 2022

    Whew! Day 16 Truly this has been a challenge to write everyday- hats off to all of you that do. As a mother of three kids, and so much going on. This poem took me by surprise.

    After the death of my mother- its’ still very early to touch this cord. So to honor Mommy’s two year, passing- the irony of life she left here on Easter, like Jesus, she rose with the choir of angels to meet her. Love you mommy- sing on! ( I know you will)

    Today I felt like I wasn’t ready to dance, but I tried it anyway. 

    thought I wasn’t ready to pray you into the sunset, but I had no say,

    I thought I wasn’t capable of sitting still but the more I practiced

     the more peace and sometimes tears , 

    Sometimes laughter came to sit  with me. 

    Though this is the anniversary of your passing

    and right at the end it seems I kept asking…

    Dear God, so many souls are passing 

    you know each warm-light by name

    born-again, as you shed this mortal-tube

    as we all must do.(to be continued)

    Poet Krissy Mosley 2022

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  • Day15 #NaPoWriMo :Heal

    April 15th, 2022
    Poet Krissy Mosley 2022

    Closer than the

    natural eye

    deeper my stillness

    abides

    empty out the old places

    surge me a love-resurrection

    a compassionate connection

    the hem of our garments will meet

    answered prayers to our spirits

    and with nothing left to say

    our spirits will moan out their affections

    unburden the quest of their questions

    and heal our wounded souls Poet Krissy Mosley

    #NaPoWriMo

    Photo by Italo Melo on Pexels.com

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  • Just Like a Movie #NaPoWriMo Day14 #WordpromptGreen

    April 14th, 2022

    His back was as crooked as a question mark,

    doctor said “the braces would straighten him right out 

    opening scene,  “Forrest Gump” sits on a bus stop 

    offering his listeners a box of chocolate, as he tells his story

    How green and plush everything was, 

    green moss, green bushes and green

    trees swollen in beauty 

    afterall, what is destiny without 

    a feather flying on a flimsy? And what is 

    poetry without its breaking stance? 

    I was green like that 

    thought I was doing something 

    by writing poetry, but all along 

    these poems’ been writing me

    all along,

    straightening out my own stupidity 

    just as crooked as crooked can be 

    10,000 moments/ fat ones, skinny ones,

    often loosely lopsided, 

    catching buses,marching off to the wars inside my head 

    “Run forest run”!!!! I may not have a Jenny, but momma loved me 

    I may not have legs to run like Forrest ,but sooner or later 

    these words will catch me. 

    Catch me a sunset 

    wrestle awhile with God 

    don’t let go, til you hollow 

    out – a walk for me to follow 

    the angels braid my hair in my dreams

    cherry blossoms, floating lily pads downstream

    and I take a deep breath 

    and breathe 

    and breathe 

    and breathe 

    and breath  Poet Krissy Mosley 2022

    Me

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  • Day13 #NaPoWriMo: My Fire-Joy

    April 13th, 2022
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    My joy returned home

    after her restless 

    sabbatical with weeping warriors 

    dripping their dreams 

    into the leopard wide-oceans 

    panting to quench, a single thirst

    This time  my joy will be more

    than the joy I remember …

    I said my goodbye- too many times

    to misery and company 

    the joy, I let you have

     I wouldn’t want it back even if you paid me

    My joy, shaved her head bald 

    after mommy, found out about her cancer 

    My joy, is a survivors’ joy 

    My joy, has danced with angels 

    said her prayers with the saints 

    shed her bread of tears with the ain’t’s 

    My joy, is shut up in my bones – like fire -joy

    laughing, the good laugh, on the right side, my belly-ache

    my joy holds me down til there -are no-more- rivers

    Yes! “No more rivers to cross”

    that’s my Joy

    Poet Krissy Mosley 2022

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PiEvavFpMtE&t=16s

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  • Day12 #NaPoWriMo : Resurrection

    April 12th, 2022
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyY2mMS1xQI



    Poet Krissy Mosley

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