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Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • Bathtub Prayers 3

    July 9th, 2015

    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…

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  • Send me (Day 30 NaPowrimo

    April 30th, 2015

    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.

    Day Thirty

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  • Safety (Day 29,NaPoWriMo

    April 29th, 2015

    Ivory Gull Svartnes harbour Vardø march22nd 2015 in flight over water sign © Amundsen Biotope

    (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:

    Day Twenty-Nine

     

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  • Higher Call Day 18),Napowrimo

    April 18th, 2015

    Our spirits groan deep within.

    Yearning for each mountain to climb.

    A subtle gaze to look upon,

    ancient-land.

    The wooden staff ,

    healing-breeze

    For when the mountain calls you- go

    Go-home to the “burning tree”

    and listen closely,

    the mountain speaks.

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  • Sheep-less Day 13) Napowrimo Riddle

    April 13th, 2015

    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.

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  • Exhale Day 12)Napowrimo

    April 12th, 2015

    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

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  • When Skies Sing Day(9)Napowrimo

    April 10th, 2015

    Today I saw the rain landings pregnant with drops of love

    saturating empty                                                                                        riverbeds

    The sky sang

    The pinecones swam in the wind

    All the while peaty soiled-souls tried to stay alive again.

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  • A fine Paper-Bag Day(7)Napowrimo

    April 8th, 2015

    Just like that

    brown paper bag,

    her ninnies began to sag.

    But it didn’t make her feel

    bad to have holes in both her pockets.

    Neither did she feel poor,

    just rubbing two nickels together,

    waiting for her next out-pour.

    Dancing drops in summer’s drought,

    not that she had any doubt

    that her girth, had given supple-supply

    for every one of her babies.

    And just like that,

    Baby!

    We’d be,

    just fine.

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  • Still Alive Day (5) Napowrimo

    April 5th, 2015

    No greater Gulf between hell and I

    Perhaps the rupturing twilight

    could speak

    For I never saw a man with holes in both hands and still be alive

    Betrayed for pennies of  fear

    Ah-that Christ must die

    watching the dust

    settle,  under seeds that

    refuse to do any thinking of growing

    For I never saw a man on fire and not be turned to ash

    weakened by devicely

    pleasures,

    the serpents’ crawl

    bitten with just one kiss

    I pray to understand

    these wages of sin has given dollars of death that do not spend

    Upheaving Justice, that suppose our souls, wern’t worth the saving!

    Here I am -again,

    if we can’t overcome

    and we can’t ever overstand,

    Then what’s a man gotta do to get a little water his thirst!

    For I never saw a man whose only kingdom was the cross

    Some men have it all, some are lost,

    some earn their freedom, and others shout crucify ,crucify

    For I never saw a man,forgive like this

    Filtered and pushing into the dark abyss

    Great drops of blood ,

    if only this, cup could pass, then earth would shake with witnesses beyond the mass

    No greater gulf between Hell and I

    For I never saw a man with holes in both his hands and still be alive…

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  • Love’s Tree

    March 22nd, 2015

                       Inflamed earthquakes

                       Invisible to my cry

                       I saw love tenderly tending,

    Exchanging her life for me

    I saw love marching to a lovers’ drum

    I saw love hanging between two thieves

    With vinegar stained lips

    “The Temple’s Veil” torn in two

    “Forgive them,” that’s what I saw love do!

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