After the summer I miss blogging,I miss Mother Bethel family Peace and Many blessings,I’m not so good at posting but here is my latest …
Hi, everyone I originally wrote this poem last year. I am this this Mother
Finding her self while losing.To all women On the Edge of Life. Be Bless. Today I will believe in myself and my ability to do my best. Poet Krissy Mosley all rights reserved
Originally posted on kneal1:
She stopped to tie her shoe while cleaning up the broken home.
Bent up with rage and exhaustion.
The young mother still in her nightgown.
Her three children all fast asleep
thoughts gathered like a “New England storm”.
There was no turning back .
Silent with tears streaming the end was near ,
all she had to do was jump.
Throw yourself into your purpose,
leap into your destiny!
Let go of all the dead passion.
swim underwater ,
lift up your saggy breast.
Put on your best fashion.
Move out of the dark
pack up all the hatred,
its time for peace!!!
Poet Krissy Mosley
Please give us back our girls…Its been over two weeks.
Still we scream….
A time of peace
A time to fight
A time to restrain our tears
A time of Hope
It was her crooked places
That measured the distance
How far to walk
Then rain always told her run
Drifting in semi straight lines
Falling yet never crashing into ground
The hearts desire is to dance
With life’s fleeting currants
Lavender and greys
We made pots to catch God’s Sunshine
Poet Krissy Mosley © 2014 all rights reserved
Trees of my leaves
Leaves of freedom
Leaves of love
Leaves of hope
Leaves of my soul
Poet Krissy Mosley all rights reserved 2014
Written for: my ancestors, for humanity,”Yea shall be like the tree planted by the rivers of water.You shall not be moved.”
Multiplying Giants running Ball in the NBA.’
Slavery’s best dun-kin,squat-in’
Sundays’ a lying day.
“Owner Banned for Life.”
Clippers’ will be sold
Fishy-frothy butts baking’ cinnamon clothes.
Plastering over cigarette smoke
Only five minutes to loose religion.
Skitta was drowning in un- forgiveness
She spent her time birthing transformers
Cutting metal with her teeth.
Oh the singing got next to me
Ganga jamaa (healing community)
Ganga miti (healing Trees)
“The Sons’ of God went unto the daughters of men”
Racism bouncing ethnic balls camouflaged sports. ‘.
Following the writing prompt I really tried. Skita is my nick name because I was always skinny.Swahili my forgotten tongue.
In-which I had to look up these words. I truly try to follow the ways of Christ but stumble sometimes.Peace,my fellow writes.
Poet: Krissy Mosley all rights reserved