Writing by far is the hardest -longest relationship I’ve had with myself in a long time 🙂
kindness sis. Krissy
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It is truly, a honor and an unexpected surprise, to be nominated by two wonderful bloggers; who live in happy worlds where the people are free and so warm and bubbly. These beautiful souls who are: creative,compassionate and humble. The world is better because of strong women like themissiontomars and Fatmawaty.
If you have not check out their work please do. Both of these women have encouraged me in my writing,I say, we are truly writing sisters. I know for certainty our W-P Family is one of the best. I am growing in leaps and bounds as I write.Thank you Fatmawaty and themissiontomars
*2.Rules are layered out below.
*I would like to propose the dates: One Time: Monday Post
*April 13, or April 20, 2015 (Feel free to vary here and there)
Accepting this award, comes alongside the rules :
Rules:
1. Pass the tour on up to four other bloggers.
2. Give them the rules and a specific Monday to post.
3. Answer four questions about your creative process which lets other bloggers and visitors know what inspires you to do what you do.
Q1. WHAT I’M I WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT ?
Q2. HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN MY GENRE ?
Q3. WHY DO I WRITE OR CREATE WHAT I DO ?
Q4. HOW DOES MY WRITING/CREATIVE PROCESS WORK ?
4. Compose a one-time post on a specific Monday (date given from your nominator).
*1.Four amazing bloggers that I would like to pass on
3. Answer four questions about your creative process which lets other bloggers and visitors know what inspires you to do what you do.
Q1. WHAT I’M I WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT ?
First and Foremost, Its been two years since I started this blog in (2013) I’d hee-hawed with writing. I got serious and begin to really put in the work. The First-Lady of my Home Church presented the question of blogging my Poetry. Then I realise, my Poetry is worth something.
Currently, for the entire month of April I am following (http://www.napowrimo.net/ ) National Poetry Writing Month.My goal is to post a bit of poetry daily for 30 days. I am also working on my first (ever) fictional novel, “Churched-Out” (in the rewrite stages) I have yet to post any excerpts from this fictional story. Hopefully when the time is right, I’ll bring my blog deeper in the fictional zone of more story-telling.
I am currently recording Poetry and its the most scariest and exciting thing to do on a weekly bases. As I present my work to several platforms of Jazz and Traditional Church, along with Historical Sites. In other words, a Sista can use some sleep…
Q2. HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN MY GENRE ?
Welp at heart, I’m a southern girl, who likes good food, jazz,blues and gospel. As a result, I like the sound of ink on paper. I like abstract poetry and clean drama. I gotta get my feelings out! My work is from a womanist perspective; in which I reference my own struggles. I like to re-tell old stories and bring a certain level of passion in my work. Most importantly, I try to keep it short!
I don’t have a whole lot of time, so I gotta make this writing-thing quick, life happens.i.e.(kids,cooking,cleaning,church, me-time )
Q3. WHY DO I WRITE OR CREATE WHAT I DO ?
I write because at the end of the day; maybe I want to let loose or moon -somebody. I could never pull that off real life – so I write to see me. I create Poetry to feel humanity. The ups and downs (on the wagon off the wagon)
I want to stay happy and writing can get me happy…
Q4. HOW DOES MY WRITING/CREATIVE PROCESS WORK ?
This process for me, works after meditation or a good steamy shower. Most times, if I could write naked – I would. (laughing out loud, because I just told on myself) Although it appears, when the moon and I are up together, I can just flow. My writing works when I’m honest with myself. I become vulnerable to discover what’s really happening on the inside. ( like talking in the mirror) Then that space is clear and I can create.
*4. Compose a one time post:
I was given the date April 6,2015 Here I am!
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Hand Made
“Mandalas’ Sands”
silently awaken
Hope
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/just-a-dream/”>Just a Dream” title=”Haiku Just Dreams (Rice Bowls)”>
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Black Waters Spice,
You do something nice,
A comfy currant with cinnamons and cayenne.
Inside my Low-days,
Fishy-grey thoughts.
I do blame,
wash away with Lavender & Sage.
My black waters spice
I found my happy, smells good too…
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I write to keep my rhythm and string.Sometimes Its all I have, while life abandon’s me.Centering all my ticks and tocks.Cultivating these itchy thoughts. A healthy word a day keep the demons at bay. Regenerating word-cells ; if it were not for writing I would be alone.
Poet:Krissy Mosley
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She took her mind out for a short walk.Along the way,the left brain said to the right.
“They divided us and now we must work together!”
The shadows we boxed ,longing for stillness.Fragmented cavities of uncertainty.
Turning onto Cherry street; ant piles shaped the X sign on the sidewalk.
Little dirty children we use to be.Her spirit whistled like the wind.Her body found new land with skin and algae.Under holy waters she bathed daily.
Erupted tides of new beginnings.
Poet Krissy Mosley
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This time when I grow up.I do it right.With no hashtags,scratches toward the back.When I grow up,I’ll see the moon souls’.When I grow up in this world,I’ll start over at hundred and four. Smile at little more.Cry a little harder.Scream a little louder,venturing in and out of sleep.
Poet:Krissy Mosley
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While the shoes are gathered together
I think of Philly,
no feet walking, just shoes
of where we could go
aligned with blue-black night
I think of London’s skyline
I think of my people
Old man Jack
frozen in the snow
Of “Maya Angelou”
“All God’s children have shoes”
I think of El Paso
and I’ll put on shoes
Poet:Krissy Mosley
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I came here, ready to write the day away.
I stubbed my toe against a corner closet-step.
I warmed my coffee pot instead.
Flopping down to the chair that needed me, like everything else in the room:
the children crying, my plants are dying, the cold called me too.
I grabbed my socks put them on, fed the babies with tiny spoons.
Sipped my mocha piping hot and then I could not write.
Ah-ey, there goes my day.
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I saw a homeless man,shoveling urban trash,
broken glass and all the city’s gumbo;
boiling with winter’s feet.
No pity he plowed
Philly’s streets.
His ringing cell phone surprised my empty pockets.
Rolling onto highways asking speeding cars for change.
The iron cage spoke plain.
“God Bless you girl,
all men are human,
we all just the same.”
Poet Krissy Mosley ©2014
Krissy Mosley Ministries 