Flying high or flying low- still requires you to get off the ground…
She breaks open her morning doors’
as I stand before the communal- floors
coded behind the windows of my soul
the eyes of secret life…~ Poet Krissy Mosley 2022
when rain speaks she has no shallow dexterity
she holds the bosom of skies in peaceful mothering’s
broken drops of purpose, going back before the days of moses,
she smells familiar, like the beginning,
a leaping exodus, barring wide -stirrings
billows, openings and moaning’s to songs of mercy
ditty-breaks, of breathing rain,
heaving -heavy her chorus, of holy wonder,
dimensions and multitudes will look upon her…
she is poet, and prophet,
falling with the sunrise, and rising with the
A List of things that bring good feelings:
1) Working in my garden, I have two strawberries growing from my milk carton hydroponic …
2) Staying in touch with friends and family
3) Enjoying the journey, relishing the small steps
4)Doing things without judgment or self criticism
5) Keep going, you got this…
6) Take the gentle reminders, nothing wrong with that
7) Giving Self Hugs -trust your worth it
I’ll continue the journey because of this understanding. Being in the journey: relishing in the good times, the rejection times, the times of uncertainty, in the times where I feel limited, in the times when the limitations come off.
I’m finally to the point where I can, feel good about the process. Not so focused on -what I can accomplish. More so, allowing the peaceful mindset of no matter what happens to be the center. And no matter what comes, stay in the center. Make peace with it. ….💙
BUT WRITE SISTER, WRITE: Write sister, write, says that voice inside your head, Which echoes too, within your heart & in your soul, Write in rhyme, prose, haiku, in sonnets & quatrains, Write in any form you wish, but write sister, write.
Write poetry & stories, of your life, & lives of others, Of folk from other parts, & those to you, who are near, Pen your hymns & psalms & scribe your songs of praise, To your God & the Gods of others, but write sister, write.
Write of world’s lost histories, of life’s mysteries & of sex, Of loves lost & gained, fairness & battles that were useless, Write with quill or crayon, pen, pencil, charcoal, chalk or ink, Write with sweat, wrenched gut, or blood, but write sister, write. Write of all you know, see, hear, taste & feel, of every joy & pain, Write of Heaven, Hell, life & death, & of all that is in between, Tell us of purging, of purgatory & Limbo, of ecstasy & sinning, Of everything that’s pristine clean & dirty, but write sister, write.
Write upon paper, parchment, on screen in typed clicked fingers, In sleazy bars, upon beer mats, on tissued napkins, or upon sands, Whisper your words or shout them, to mountains, seas & rivers, Write love letters within all your dreams, but write sister, write. Write of leaders & losers, cads, cadgers, villains & Don Juans, Of Saints & babies, of tramps, soldiers, & the aged so well lived, Of mystical beasts, of mystics, monks, Druids & everyday men, Of all women, all children, of you & me, but write sister, write.
Write of grey street corners, of green forests & of floral fields, Of moons, suns, stars, of blue & grey skies & deep rolling seas, Of meandering rivers, scudding clouds, lone islands & deserts, Of the faces & places you know & don’t, but write sister, write.
Write of birds & beasts, but don’t write for anyone else but you, Write of wishes yearned in prayers, write it messy, write it neat, There is no right way, nor wrong way to write it, just do it, write, Make love to words, those friends & foes, but write sister, write.
Write of all countries, states, nations, villages, towns, & cities, Make it beautiful, scarred, or ugly, quirky, or downright pretty, Write it dangerous, write it safe, make it irksome & even easy, Make folk feel uneasy, happy or queasy, but write sister, write. Write all of it, put it down, jot it, note it, scribble it, write it all, And when you think all is written, done, finished & completed, Those voices within your head, heart & soul will pay you a visit, They’ll whisper, shout & sing with passion, but write sister, write, For it will never ever be done, it is merely something called life. POETRY BY – SUE LOBO
For those of you that may not know’ she’s the poet of all times…
truly thank you for sharing these words with me Sue Lobo🖤💙❤💛🧡💕
Even in all this
words are still worth the page
or tears which ever may fall first
~kindness sister Krissy
Come holy spirit, somehow now I need it
things that are broken
– hidden pieces, scattered like weeds
bones I’m becoming,
didn’t know, they were worth-growing
turning stones into seeds
sowing broken things,
Dear God, I pray this time,
you wake me,
replace the hole, in my heart,
replace, the “cage bird, for the sparrow, still watches over me,
I don’t always sing “because I’m happy”,
sometime, I sing to take what’s broken and make them wings-
fly, fly far away,
fly towards the sun, burnout the shadow that lingers near
fly again- touch the soft stream and deer’,
fly above the weary mind
fly against storms
fly between bombs and men of war
fly and bring back the olive branch
God and I,
“you are my peace”
Kindness sister Krissy
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