Category Archives: Uncategorized


Hope is

but a mere



Piece of Joy Haiku

Morning Breeze

brings me


I have taken a small blogging break. It feels good in this space. Still loving life and dancing to the wind.I’m not quite sure when I’ll blog daily. After-all the wind is magical landing in my ear. Whispering to me write,dance and sing, This is me, doing my weekly Poetry…(all rights reserved2015)

About Me: `Kindness Sister`

Welcome to my page:

I come from a long line of women. I was raised, partially in San Antonio TX. The latter teen yrs onward in Philadelphia PA. I not only observed but also engaged in the daily bread-winning process in my family. My mother and her three kids: picked cans, served at church, washed our clothes in the bathtub saying our prayers like mantras toward a mellow-yellow sky.

Growing up, I could not wait to be on my own. Thinking that I’d make better choices than my mother. The days and years turned, like pages of fire,  burning strong. The test of times against my skin.

The most unforgettable moment as a child was my mother coming to my basketball practice to pick me up early due to the pouring rain. We didn’t have a car at this time. So she used what she had.

There she was, my mother, soaking wet on her “ten-speed bike.” She told the coach “yeah I’m here to get  Krissy,  so she doesn’t walk home in the rain.” The coach looked in shock like a deer in headlights.

Coach: Krissy, your mom’s here.

I could hear the laughter from the other girls as I rode away with my mother in the rain on the only source of a vehicle at the time.

Stars, moons, and suns later, I went to college. To better myself. Taking out school loans like any other youngster without an inheritance. It was my sophomore and junior years that challenged my faith and commitment. I was diagnosed was rare allergic environmental eczema which made my skin irritated, itchy, swollen all over, unable to attend class regularly and taking cortisone steroid shots.

Needless to say, I got well. I pulled my grades up and graduated. I  journeyed on, like a lioness crossing the Sahara desert. I got married and changed jobs like the weather- wearing jeans on a cloudy day.

My motto: I’m not dead yet!

Thanks for following me~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley


A fine Paper-Bag Day(7)Napowrimo

Just like that

brown paper bag,

her ninnies began to sag.

But it didn’t make her feel

bad to have holes in both her pockets.

Neither did she feel poor,

just rubbing two nickels together,

waiting for her next out-pour.

Dancing drops in summer’s drought,

not that she had any doubt

that her girth, had given supple-supply

for every one of her babies.

And just like that,


We’d be,

just fine.

Still Alive Day (5) Napowrimo

No greater Gulf between hell and I

Perhaps the rupturing twilight

could speak

For I never saw a man with holes in both hands and still be alive

Betrayed for pennies of  fear

Ah-that Christ must die

watching the dust

settle,  under seeds that

refuse to do any thinking of growing

For I never saw a man on fire and not be turned to ash

weakened by devicely


the serpents’ crawl

bitten with just one kiss

I pray to understand

these wages of sin has given dollars of death that do not spend

Upheaving Justice, that suppose our souls, wern’t worth the saving!

Here I am -again,

if we can’t overcome

and we can’t ever overstand,

Then what’s a man gotta do to get a little water his thirst!

For I never saw a man whose only kingdom was the cross

Some men have it all, some are lost,

some earn their freedom, and others shout crucify ,crucify

For I never saw a man,forgive like this

Filtered and pushing into the dark abyss

Great drops of blood ,

if only this, cup could pass, then earth would shake with witnesses beyond the mass

No greater gulf between Hell and I

For I never saw a man with holes in both his hands and still be alive…

This ain’t it. Day 4 (Napowrimo)

This ain’t it.

She swallowed a little more,

Slightly drowning in Mississippi’s River bed

it should of been holy

it should of rocked her to sleep

it should of taste like honey,

but now it was just sadly unpleasant

Pumping her legs further into the deep.

Salty-night came calling.

Soup of Love Day (3) Napowrimo

napofeature2She wore her cotton purpled sash squares through each yard.

For I never saw a mother with such a discerning eye.

While the day withered from sunshine to bitter night.


For I never saw a mother feed the dead.

In her kitchen with each tool and recipe,

sweeping rounded pipes of potted meat


For I never  saw a mother with such a piercing look

tumbling in and out of oven-soot.


Her humbled feet grounded by the gardens leaves,

just to sing a mumbled tune.

Ah- if that mother’s son could only breathe

For I never saw a mother feed the dead,

with such a discerning eye.

Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts

In Honor of National Poetry Month before -the writers Burst into writing with first sign of ink ,I thought of Alice Walker 

by Alice Walker:

Never offer your heart
to someone who eats hearts
who finds heartmeat
but not rare
who sucks the juices
drop by drop
and bloody-chinned
like a God.

Never offer your heart
to a heart gravy lover.
Your stewed, overseasoned
heart consumed
he will sop up your grief
with bread
and send it shuttling
from side to side
in his mouth
like bubblegum.

If you find yourself
in love
with a person
who eats hearts
these things
you must do.

Freeze your heart
Let him—next time
he examines your chest—
find your heart cold
flinty and unappetizing.

Refrain from kissing
lest he in revenge
dampen the spark
in your soul.

sail away to Africa
where holy women
await you
on the shore—
long having practiced the art
of replacing hearts
with God and Song.

by Alice Walker