Skip to content
    • Welcome To: A Poet’s Vision

Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • The History of Blooming & Becoming

    April 5th, 2025

    The story of Krissy’s Mosley  Ministries is “Where Wholeness Begins, Truth Transforms and Love Supersedes”

     It began,

    16 years ago, I sat in the hospital room – wrapped in a faded blue and white gown, drowning in grief and anxiety. A gnawing sense that my life had run out of room for me.

    Numb. Hollow. No smoke. By then, a nurse walked in. She didn’t offer therapy or a scripture. She simply asked, “ What are you doing? I remember replying, through cracked breath, I am becoming a writer. Right there, on the back of my own discharge papers, and a shaking hand. I wrote my first poem. 

    Not because I had a plan, but because I so desperately wanted a comeback in myself. That act of writing lit a match in my darkness. And I’ve been writing, to write myself whole ever since. From that sacred beginning, I learned kindness isn’t passive. It’s a force. A ministry. A movement. 

     I came here. Because the world is always changing. And  I am too. 

    I believe kindness -poetry can be felt chirping off the page. even now, there is this gentle nudge that lets me know, I’m not alone. That’s kindness. 

    I believe in kind words that can grab you from the edge of defeat. Place you in the center of everything, and watch your spirit rise. In the words of Alice Walker, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by The Color Purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”

     That too is kindness.

     I believe in kind -poetry in this kind- way. Lifts voices out of ghost towns and ghettos and prisons and elevates our Human Experience- transforming it From what it has been into visions of hope, growth, and miracles of strength. Lifting us from the invisible margins of merely living and merely dying. 

    We all could use kindness as a way of loving ourselves.

     We could all use human kindness to rebuild extraordinary lives from what has been, to what, human- kindness still must be. 

    Krissy Mosley Ministries’ was never just an organization. It was a promise to the shattered version of me – and to – everyone like me – that we would not be forgotten. 

    That we would rebuild. That we would rise. That poetry would become prayer. That wholeness would become real. This ministry was built from the raw pages of healing from the sound of singing bowls and silent prayers, from stories that the world tried to ignore, but God chose to use. 

    This house is not just mine it’s yours it’s ours. 

    We are living proof that kindness can echo louder than trauma.

    We are what it looks like when wholeness begins. 

    We are where truth transforms. 

    We are where love supersedes.

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • 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)

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • Run On (Prayer Poem)

    April 18th, 2021

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • Come On In the Room (Prayer)

    April 11th, 2021

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • Day 6,(Hero) I’ll Fly

    February 24th, 2015

    This Poem received a lot of positive feedback so Thank you for all the likes and comments ..I’m feeling the love

    From One Artist to Another thank you all ,blogging World means so much…

    For https://mutafariqkhayalat.wordpress.com/ who invited me to do this .I’m not good at these kinds of things such as:links and tech savvy stuff..  Thank you

    When I grow up I’ll fly…

    with silver cufflinks

    chained to the free

    engaged for their own sacred prosperity.

    When I grow up no need for money man against man

    One toward the penny the other toward the land

    Rigid cold,freezing

    Broken legs ,so learned to fly

    Taking to the bitter dirt

    I moved sluggishly on my stubby joints

    Parting the mud between

    the soul and body

    when I grow up

    I’ll fly  ….

    Thanks everyone the most comments on this poem.I’ll Fly, so much love…

    photogrid_1423989823545-e1424283873546 Best

    <a href="

    “>

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • Homage to My Hips by Lucille Clifton

    February 21st, 2015

    Poetry PotLuck: I Love Lucille Clifton Homage to her Hips even though I am small frame I see my hips as magic too, and her words lift me…  the power in a woman…  Her Poem moves me to have that Self love talk in the Mirror  hey “My life loves me”…

    Homage to My Hips
    BY LUCILLE CLIFTON
    these hips are big hips
    they need space to
    move around in.
    they don’t fit into little
    petty places. these hips
    are free hips.
    they don’t like to be held back.
    these hips have never been enslaved,
    they go where they want to go
    they do what they want to do.
    these hips are mighty hips.
    these hips are magic hips.
    i have known them
    to put a spell on a man and
    spin him like a top!

    Lucille Clifton, “homage to my hips” from Good Woman. Copyright © 1987 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179615

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • (Day 4 Animal)Queenie

    February 19th, 2015

    Her name was Queenie

    I watched her,

    swallow down her babies,

    then I thought

    A mother who consumes her young

    Watch out,

    Life is Crazy…

    true story when I was a kid, My dog must have been sick or maybe the puppies…

    Poetry challenge to write about an animal

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • Space

    February 13th, 2015

    Dear clutter, it’s been swell. Living underneath the piles of flimsy wash-cloths and moldy shelves.

    I’ve tried, and you’ve lied, about the mess nobody makes.It takes courage to thoroughly clean,

    Beneath basements and baseboards.

    Look what we’ve become!

    Shabby and raggedy,always nagging bout the times when you was as fine as oatmeal.

    Please.

    I’m not asking.Still my space..

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • The loaves

    February 12th, 2015

    My tears are no ordinary waters.

    It was here, my gut rose to take its place.Its gonna be alright.

    My life, is gonna be alright.Have a small bite,

    These rainy cycles of loving me.All because I indulged in dark cherry, brownies …

    Wait never mind the calories…

    Got down in the bottom of skillet,

    feeling good…

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
  • When my soul speaks

    February 9th, 2015

    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….

    Share this:

    • Share
    • Share on X (Opens in new window) X
    • Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
    • Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
    • Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
    Like Loading…
1 2
Next Page→

Loading Comments...

    • Subscribe Subscribed
      • Krissy Mosley Ministries
      • Join 1,523 other subscribers
      • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
      • Krissy Mosley Ministries
      • Subscribe Subscribed
      • Sign up
      • Log in
      • Report this content
      • View site in Reader
      • Manage subscriptions
      • Collapse this bar
    %d