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Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • The Soul of Poetry Reviews & Words From Friends

    March 25th, 2025

    I enjoyed every moment of the Soul Poetry, it was well organized and each session kept wanting me to come back for more. This program gave me a reason to write out my thoughts it was complete therapy for me . My sister thank you so much for unleashing your God-given talent in the world and allowing others to speak their emotions. ~Tasha

    I want to sincerely thank you for inviting me to such a great experience.  Much success in all your undertakings.

    Peace and Blessings~Lydia

    With love and gratitude, this is a poetic witness of Reverend Harry/Butch to the loving support he received upon the loss of his son.
    When no words between us could suffice, Like a soft pulse of the morning, I heard his name. 
    I heard – I felt a beat from my soul beckon, I could not know,
    but to a farewell with new words to exchange. 
    Never suspecting they would be our last. 
    How full my arms came to feel, as we grew together in ways never imagined. 
    How absent they feel, like losing a body’s part
    That last day, with a brevity of challenges, but
    Deep was our laughter, 
    Recalling our adventures, 
    Our cold bodies and
    Our warm bonfires.
    Reflecting on a Good God, and a Loving Jesus.
     
    The kind of love that led me to experience what seemed to be strengthening-from-thousands…
    From ALL OF YOU – EACH ONE OF YOU – FRIENDS AND FAMILY
    who gave a monumental moment to share your love in memory of Edward Deshawn Spencer…
    Thank you for being there, for your prayers, and kind words. For the phone calls and laughter. For text
    messages that smiled. For your support and encouragement. For showing up in your own way. Thank you for
    giving your heart. 

    For The Sake of God’s Love (Rev. Harry)

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  • Day 28 #WritingMyselfWhole: Freedom

    May 28th, 2022

    I’m right where I’m supposed to be and this is what freedom feels like

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  • Many Meetings’ With Love Poets’

    September 28th, 2020
    Kindness sister Krissy

    If ever I should become a Love~ poet of sorts’

    and I should answer love’s highest call

    to be won like thunder on cloudy days or

    quietly sit in God’s terrain, smell the sweet fragrance of prayers drifting by

    dripping with desperate pleas’ and why, why why,

    but suddenly in the foggy trance of grace.

    in the midst and in the haze

    there but only love should appear,

    to drown out our puddles of gloom and fear,

    lead us to a secret place,

    change our dirty garments, give us holy names

    with no more worry, no more pain

    wrap us in infinite arms…

    I’ll say I met the poet’ of poets’

    all that God is, and all that love is,

    and all that God is,

    Love…

    kindness sister Krissy

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  • Something God made while laughing:

    July 7th, 2020

    Thought I’d slink back into the 3rd grade without a hitch of having to look over my shoulder at Christopher Jones. Or Kwanna Brown. You see I’m not your typical wanna-be, 3rd grader with all her ducks in a row. Art is was my thing and still is my thing. Accept I can’t draw or paint or doddle. That didn’t matter much, seeing I’m an artist, with all the heart and soul of an artist. All the making of what an artist should be.

    Drafted somewhere in the pain of 3rd grade staring me down on the blue and white lines. Blobs and blobs of something and a prick of blood in the middle where I’d once stuck myself with left handed scissors. My pop-up monster didn’t glow. Or have fangs or six strange eyes. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was human or maybe it was me.

    I had it etched in my brain that art was supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be mysterious on the journey of the greater, unimaginable that God like thing. Maybe becoming apart of the big blue sky, of the dreary clouds so heavy, on the pulse of rage and pollution. Drooping with the possibilities of footsteps.

    The kind droplets that etch in deep in the brain,

    sounds of God laughing, walking on water. Stepping out of heaven for a quick moment to lift up a little girl or a dying world, to feel wanted like art and accepted like something God made while laughing. ~kindness sister Krissy

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  • Drive Through Worship

    June 14th, 2020

    I attended a drive through service

    not like the fried chicken joint on the corner

    or the liquor store that’s never

    close. This worship, broken, by parked cars in cramp

    parked spaces. Horns tutted, as tambourines.

    the shocks on our SUV’s are gone. Reverberating

    communion, the preacher dressed in gladness

    through the madness of a pandemic

    we joined car to car to worship

    under the sunshine, under the decaying cross

    dripping with mortals singing.

    Three block away from where I live

    in nature we drive away

    having received God in our cars.

    kindness sister Krissy

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  • Kindness Conversations Of Hope:

    April 13th, 2020

    Dear kindness, I may see through a glass, in a half figurine. Tables turning. Blood rushing to the scene. Where have we laid our conversations? Where have we laid our un-prayed, prayers?

    pixabay image

    Over- yonder down by the riverside.

    In the foggy-haze, taste a pinch of hope

    see the sky, curl-over against the legs of the sun

    bills unpaid, missed days, hair- all in blob, and done,

    conversations now, are more than others got.

    And God this is just a thought, if only, your hinder part

    leave a spec of glory, that we pass through

    so we may know, God has not forgot.

    God has not, forgot.

    Kindness sister Krissy

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  • God's Math is different when God does the adding…

    March 21st, 2020

    Bring back the days, Mama would say, “its’ okay to be crazy

    its’ okay to be afraid” – stores running empty, people running insane,

    I read in the good book, one woman and child,

    had only one jug of oil, one last cake – “that they may eat it and die”,

    the prophet replied “make what you have for me, you won’t go without”

    her faith lead her to believe and they were satisfied for many days.

    So though, it may rain, or sun has come to bring her gift to earth.

    I’m so sure this prayer may take awhile…

    God you feed the raven, keep the brooks and rivers full.

    you pull down the seasons of white snow and change

    you called us by name, you still hold the whole world in the palm of your hand, you breathed life down into my lungs,

    I give this prayer like sweet smelling rose,

    calm every nerve in my body, soothe every ache

    transcending the worlds on lock down,

    sending manna for bread, and oil that won’t run out

    Amen

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  • Saving the Best For last

    March 8th, 2020

    (photo- of my babies when they were small)

    Some things are never forgotten, laboring souls that go to church

    because we didn’t know, how to fight tired nights with weary days.

    or the systems of oppression-recession,

    systems that knock us down to the date, they go w-a-a-y back,

    systems that refuse to acknowledge more external,

    as to the wisdom of God

    the creator of all that is,

    both in & out-eternal

    Prayers flooding beneath the red cushion-stains

    the brown and grey wooden Briar-patch

    Attach to us the impossible,

    Miracles so wide spread they reach even the dead

    so let it be said ,

    we got up and walked

    walked on water

    moved mountains

    “stopped the mouths of lions”

    turned our “waters into wine”

    we “touched the hem of his garment”

    we “laid down our burdens”

    for the last time

    kindness sister Krissy

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  • Nobody but God

    March 2nd, 2020
    Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

    I wanted to count the days a little longer. Stay under the brightness of the winter-storm. Snow and sun, and snow, slightly picking up mesquite winds. Although our worlds are shifting.

    Our Merciful prayers have never been the same. The baby birds were cooing underneath the misty drizzle. The temperatures steady but dropping. The sky and I, weeping over something weak and terrible.

    I think we were enjoying too much of self pity as of late. Tasting salt droplets, like leftover pudding. Cream still there just harder, firmer now. Puppy wrinkles for eyelids and the sky too. Didn’t seem to matter much. Neither one of us seem to help the other.

    Then my soul goes off without me, as if it should, wondering about darkness, sickness bending one and the same ashy-twig, frantic but holding.

    Dear God, the weakness inside my soul seeps out like weeds.

    the needs of your people, ever-growing but God, this is where you crack our heads open with miracles unfolding.

    kindness sister Krissy

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  • Stories From a Third Grade Girl: with something to prove if only to herself, if nothing else.

    February 22nd, 2020

    Through the years, I’d stumbled lightly over the term “growing up” Looking over the silliest complexities in growing. I can remember the tender age of eight. The best thing ever, since slice bread. I brought to my class, on Show and Tell, a brand new rabbit. I was so happy, I could have slapped myself. (okay I probably did)

    When Mr. Luna said “good morning class.” My hand shot up like a rocket in the air. My bunny-rabbit was neatly tuck away in a cage, with a warm grey cotton top. I was’ leaping in my chair like it was a trampoline. And I was trying out for the star role on the Olympics.

    Mr.Luna : who would like to be first?

    Me: o-o-h, me, please, me, me.

    Mr.Luna: Alright Krissy you can go first.

    I slowly stood up, beads of sweat and joy building upon my forehead. I was prepared for it. I took out Kwanana’ brown’s birthday napkin. I’d saved in my desk for times like these. Usually in high pressured moments, I’m one to sweat heavily under the armpits. I guess all the extra toilet paper and baby powder that morning, the sweat had nowhere else to go.

    So there I was lifting the soft grey cotton top. My fluffy grey and white rabbit with its brown button nose. I could hear the class o-ohs’ and aw’s. I carefully lifted my rabbit, that I’d named Honey’ by 8:00 am that morning.

    Tasting nothing less, than sweet victory. I’d steal the crown, The Class’ Favorite Show-And Tell, starring Honey!

    I smiled, like I’d won the lottery on the 6:00 o’clock news. I presented myself, hi” everybody, my name is Krissy. This is my beautiful baby rabbit Honey. I’ve always wanted a pet. Mom always said no. Then she found out that the mail-lady had gifted me an abandoned rabbit almost three years old.

    Mom said the rabbit could stay as long as I kept up with: cleaning it, feeding it, washing it and all my other chores. I didn’t care that Honey was a lot of work. I truly wanted Honey.

    In the middle of my big speech Christopher Jones said “Whoppi-doo,doo. Honey can’t do tricks, can she? I shook my head, “not at the moment.” So what’s so special about Honey?

    I had to think fast. That’s when it hit me, all the church services I’ve attended. All the songs I’d listened to. Watching the saints’ and those who came close including me.

    “Yes,” I replied, Christopher Jones. You believe in God don’t you? Before he’d muster up an answer. I revved back in little girl preacher mode, swallowed a lump of spit and said,

    “Well this is one of God’s gentle creatures.” By this time with my church finger swinging in the air. “You know, they don’t bite. In fact, its probably proven, that bunnies, can alleviate stress. I know it does for me.”

    “Honey brings me joy when I’m sad.

    Honey has taught me things like rabbits don’t eat carrots.

    Honey is kind and sweeter than sugar to me.

    Honey has saved my life, more that I can count,

    probably even my childhood.”

    That being my last word, I wiped my face. Somehow drenched in a bucket of water and took my seat. The class cheered and applauded.

    your kindness sister Krissy (true stories from my childhood)

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