Monthly Archives: December 2019

God Always Gives Tiny Surprises: Aka Growing in tiny steps with you: 1,000 & Counting

1,000 Follows!
Reaching 1,000 supporters:
I’m amazed those who’ve stayed, those who’ve cheered me on. Added many words of value. Given much feedback. Cried and prayed I’d find my way. Loved me, in spaces that helped me grow. As a writer, a mother and simply little ole’ me. Thank you. We’ve reached 1,000 supporters -I just know the best is yet to come…
P.S. I sat my butt in the chair, and the words started pouring out -alive again.- kindness sister Krissy.


I’m sure of the Sunrise

Photo by Simon Matzinger on

In many ways we dream almost golden, the thorns that might arise breaking the nightfall. beyond the need of intelligence or intellect. A flower unveiling petal by petal, knowingly, the day awaits us to the sweet looming light,

Soft timid blooming- press

turning the world around in a spec

that it is the earth’s kindness as she brings

icy lakes, black and white snow

mud piles on the road

journey attending,

as we go …

kindness sister Krissy

Off the Shelf: Aka: Sometimes I Roam & Wonder:

Photo by Wendy van Zyl on

It feels as if I am a cork bottle, on the blue wide open sea. Good things floating all around me. Why is it? Am I not floating? I have no control on which way the wind blows or the course my life seems to be…

but I do appreciate calming tidal waves, bouncing, boisterous spiced aromas drifting.

There’s a longing, to never be alone, another to one to be found hiding. In arms of something called home, something called -ones’ own.

Virtuous finding,

kindness sister Krissy

Dear Writers’ Burnout:

Photo by Ivan Bertolazzi on

Dear writers’ burnout, I’ve stepped lightly under your thumb. Ghastly, recording -jet-lag, blistered-sketched. Riding on fumes alone

alarming ping, the hum, the blow-

singed by the leak of my own.

Habitual crawling towards more white-paper,

the rugged red/table-legs of fire,

I no longer sit down- while oceans are bleeding

I no longer stroke black and white keys,

I no longer dig my heels into my wounds- so I let them…

I no longer key-up the engine

I can’t feel the motor-less hum

In that way, I play the frolicking multi colored peacock

feathering a pretentious prance.

In that way, I am a fool, foolishly

chewing up words/undigested at the red table

Come dine,

sit with me, til the smoke has cleared

and there will be words to write/mountains to climb

and there will be more…

I pray, that my hour of darkness does not cast her shadow

I pray, that you and I find a simple answer

I pray, your stay is not prolonged

In this note you’ll find your bags,

P.S. I’ve kept my pen.

kindness sister, Krissy

I Never wake up Pretty:

while today is today, my mind might as well be a someday kinda brain, with all its’ trash-talking, ideas that be a load of crap in the morning, wannabe- hoping that its gonna be , and by then

I’m standing outside on checkered white curb,

with a muddy puddles of water

one-inch from my brown good-will suit.

On my way to the rest of my life

and a dark blue Sudan drives by

splashes rounds and rounds of puddles onto my good-clothes.

Now I’m heading home- telling myself

well’-there’s always tomorrow. 🙂

kindness sister Krissy