Monthly Archives: July 2017



I’ll drink from the sun
and in her pavilion
I find sweet liquors.

To be born…
call it, laughter, call it, joy
call it hope, call it healing…~Krissy

image by my personal camera

Cracks In the Ceiling:


The sun was stubborn as a mule,
around-bout evening I’d say go down already
but it’ would lite, tisk, tisk and burn to the bone
then around-about morning the sun feel real good
like a cold drink melting-stubble right off my chin.

Cracks.. rip nine, Skyscrapers rising, fire hydrants, and secret driveways, over policing poverty… somebody’s daughter, somebody’s river, somebody’s mule

some bone, some dish, some -late, some fall prey… round-about summer’s dying…~Krissy Mosley photo image by



On Being Called:


When wisdom crieth into the streets, who should hear the voice of one, the voice of many, and still…. relentless in her call, her voice breaks it will fall beneath the diadem, a royal stain to hark and beckon and roll and plead…. in exchange… rounded broken fields for hearts…who should listen ?

my response to Creative talents unleashed Inspiration Facebook prompt: