Tag Archives: Napowrimo

Chipping At The Window Of Goodbye: NaPoWriMo

(me -Krissy as a kid- gotta get back to my 3rd grade stories one of these days, photo taken in 1989)

I wanna live like love’s never dying

never saying goodbye, see ya later or next time, for now our goodbye’s are getting cold

there’s a lake camping out on my eyelids – east winds, blowing

southbound and strong, I remember the smell of old writings,

I remember fear eating away at the day -we’d say goodbye,

I’m still looking for the sun in Indiana

still growing-up to be a grow up – one of these ole’ days

still love to taste dark cherries of summer

still love to daze into the dawn of the open-sun

still love to feel small against river’s rapid drums

and know home-home is never done.

kindness sister Krissy…(one day at a time)

Resurrected Hope — praypower4today

[Note: The following is a collaboration between Krissy Mosley of Visionarie Kindness and Lori Strawn of Praypower4Today. Krissy’s words are in bold; Lori’s in regular type.] In the deep dark depths where lost things go Outside, at the bottom of ourselves three steps down before the sidewalk begins where the heartbeats are faster against the […]

Resurrected Hope — praypower4today

If you want to keep reading click the link above and experience “Hope with us”

Things I’ve taken for Granted

And just like that I’d missed another day arriving far away from my knowing. I was so busy, doing nothing, so busy running into myself, turning around in dog tails, wagging in place. Panting, with my ear touching the cold floor, that held me down for a little while. Tile, black chalked lines, this is the memorial for leisure. Nowadays, when the sun is out and I’m shut in. When the wind desires to pick me up and take me for a spin. I won’t say no,

this is the memorial… I should have said yes.

Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Pexels.com

kindness sister Krissy

A Call Of Grace

 There is a surrender under pain.

It flows gently like water.

From the cusp of shoulders to the bed of ruddy nails.

Things -forgotten. Things we left unsaid.

Made in sparkling white folds and deep dark trimmings. 

Its’ grace of the morning.

Grace that comes soflty and calling,

grace that leads me home

kindness sister Krissy

Kindness Conversations Of Hope:

Dear kindness, I may see through a glass, in a half figurine. Tables turning. Blood rushing to the scene. Where have we laid our conversations? Where have we laid our un-prayed, prayers?

pixabay image

Over- yonder down by the riverside.

In the foggy-haze, taste a pinch of hope

see the sky, curl-over against the legs of the sun

bills unpaid, missed days, hair- all in blob, and done,

conversations now, are more than others got.

And God this is just a thought, if only, your hinder part

leave a spec of glory, that we pass through

so we may know, God has not forgot.

God has not, forgot.

Kindness sister Krissy

Whichever Way The Wind Blows Collaboration (He’s Risen Sunday)

Lori and I are back! She’s my writing sister, from another mother. Sometimes I think, I’m the little sister while she has her noetic-pulse of poetry. She’s the great master mind when it comes to and arrangements’ of poetry. Might I add a powerhouse of words. https://praypower4today.wordpress.com/ (go over and see for ya-self!)

Having said that, I don’t take lightly the words, He’s Risen! On a day of all days, so many things have change. From churches, to supermarkets, to take out, to cooking at home, service in the living room. We still feel the wind, taste borrowed tears from sky-jars

I see prayers being answered. 
I see clouds gather like a furrowed brow.
I see miracles so clear, light blue skies before the evening
I see storms mounting, a menagerie of shades of gray
I see nations closing the gap not out of fear but faith.
I see faith fragile as an old bone.
I see a faith that crosses religious lines
Wind whipping, blowing change faster

interconnections — preceding daybreak.
than we ourselves can follow.

Purified waters in hyssop, “washed whiter than snow”
God spreads his hands and smiles.

God with blue ink, he writes upon our red hearts
Nothing is written in stone

just so you know.
God visits our tears
He wipes them with holes
in his hands
He says to me — He says to all of man
I bear it, my child, you’re not alone.
And, in an instant, Easter morning.

Poetry by, Lori Strawn ,https://praypower4today.wordpress.com/

( Lori’s words are in Italics, mine in regular type)

kindness sister, Krissy

Crucified but Not Alone:

Photo by Vanderlei Longo on Pexels.com

I know I’m nothing like Jesus and those who would be crucified 

the smell of fear bombards across county lines
Salvation in the air, in these troubled times,

coming to the creator,
earnest pining cry, budding from its curdled shell

thrown upon ourselves, for the saving ourselves 

to learn the mysteries of a fallen cross, in between two thieves

athirst, bursting, piercing in his side

humanity comes alive, in the darkness

a pinch of glory

communion wafers, paper thin,

and waters in the blood 

nobody but nobody can carry this cross 

alone.

kindness sis Krissy