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Kimmery Moss - Poet

@kimmerywrites

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šŸŒ™ A poet in the wild!
šŸ’„ Helping humans make more art - @moms.who.make
šŸŽØ Art classes for Mamas & Kids!
šŸ’Œ GET MY NEW BOOK! Amazon #3 Bestseller! šŸ‘‡šŸ¼
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Iā€™ll let the prompts speak for themselves šŸ˜ Write some poetry & tag us so we can read your beautiful words! šŸ’‹ Xoxo, K and all the wild women poets of this new era
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POETRY FOR WOMENā€¦ hereā€™s why: Friends! Countrywomen! Poets! Lend me your ears: Itā€™s time we stopped feeling overwhelmed, overworked and under appreciated. I canā€™t solve all of it, but I can help you get a jolt of power and self-love every month. Say it with me: NO MORE BORING MAIL! No more forgetting how powerful words are. Get a real poem on paper every month šŸ¤— Every poem is written fresh by me, packed with little goodies like watercolor art, seeds for planting, a sticker for your water bottle/laptop/etc. or something else wonderful. But most importantly, these poems are a reminder to cherish yourself. To remember who TF you are! And letā€™s be honest, we can all use a reminder from time to time. Comment ā€œMEā€ and Iā€™ll shoot you the link to sign up Or you can check the link in my profile or stories. Spots are limited (because obviously I canā€™t send out thousands of these puppies) so sign up now to join the Wolf Pack! Spots are almost booked up for July already! Other deets: Shipping is always free. Poems will be postmarked the 1st week of each month. Letā€™s be pen pals šŸ˜ I love you all. K
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Whose idea was it to put happy endings in the middle of the story? Maybe if I am 30,000 feet in the air Iā€™ll be closer to God Today I walked into the New Orleans Church of Immaculate Conception It was all for herā€” She who birthed a God. Was she holy because she accepted Godā€™s proposition Or because she birthed his Son Or because she washed his lifeless body when he was taken from her? I am wondering why every church isnā€™t the church of the Mother Every single Disney princess lives happily ever after before she ever meets her children Today I heard someone I admire say married women of children die sooner She almost spat it Single and untethered by umbilical cords is the elixir of life But what if I donā€™t want to live forever? My art will live on when I am fertilizing irises and blueberries but the flesh and blood I bear will be the legacy that lasts Paper, when wet, becomes irrelevant Inevitably, the Ink will run. Iā€™m telling you these babies I made can make new worlds! Write new languages Grow new crops with this same soil Birth my own descendants Iā€™ll reunite with hundreds of years from now My blood will find itself trickled down through the different ages of civilization I cannot even contemplate I sat in the front pew of the church that made me and caged me and thought: how could God create woman with so much power? Cue: enslavement and slander Any opposite gender must be mad to be unthreatened If man made life I would beat my fists against their chests in rage! Forget sex and beauty and poetry that feels good This has been about life the whole time Maybe I can bless these winkles and this wide womb Maybe I can thank the juices that come from me and fertilize these dry lands Maybe I can speak sweetly to those who have wanted what we have had all along God blessed the women, Women bless the men! We are mothers, we are stewards, we are the gods of this whole place And I wonder: How will we wear these heavy crowns? I will not etch pure or saintly into my skin But I will move with more reverence to the power within. - @kimmerywrites Heartfelt thoughts about this in comments (Iā€™m out of space again, ha)
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FROM TODAY UNTIL FOREVER! These are the rules of the baby gang delta club: Stop apologizing! If one of us get stuck in a chimney, we disassemble the chimney We disassemble parts of ourselves that others assembled for us I am talking a full inner revolution! Buy the damn shoes you like and wear them on ordinary days You must stop thinking of days as ordinary Remember: the universe wanted you pretty bad If thatā€™s not stamped into the soles of your feet then get new feet We donā€™t microwave plastic or let our stomaches growl We eat, we eat, we eat! The Baby Gang Delta Club takes no prisoners: youā€™re with us or youā€™re forgotten Iā€™m telling you, there is too much to do! Reconfigure the confines of your own mind Take adventures into the wilderness of Alaska Dances, parties and dance parties! Buy more paint and let it splatter on all the fine furnishings You are the finest furnishing There is a fierce and unbreakable rule that you must savor yourself There are no more critical thoughts! Iā€™m telling you, love that misshapen breast of yours Rub the scars with oil and love and thanks You must understand this means a full reckoning A full-fledged forgiveness of fissures and failures There is no google for this. Sometimes the Baby Gang Delta Club will bleed sometimes there will be pus sometimes you will be the one with the open wound on your ribcage You must not mistake this for weakness. If you are to join the members of this society there will be rewards: Total unadulterated freedom of the largest kind I mean shouting at the stars from the open top of a red convertible on a perfectly temperate summer night An uncensoredness that may leave you shouting for a whole month The people will come! They will want to know what you have said. But you must always remember the one last rule: You do not belong to them You belong to what beats beneath your skin. šŸ’„ - @kimmerywrites BLAME JULIA CHILDS AND CHELSIE FOR THIS ONE! @poemsandpeonies Who wants in the club? šŸ™‹šŸ»ā€ā™€ļø
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Are you salivating yet?! I get so proud when I look back at all these words. Iā€™ve built a whole mountain of poetry over these years and maybe Iā€™m just feeling nostalgic because of my birthday butā€¦ what an accomplishment! This is for everyone whoā€™s still contemplating doing something about their dreams: START TODAY. Like, close this app and put your phone down and START. Because one day youā€™ll get to look back on the mountain of art or progress or whatever youā€™ve built and youā€™ll feel real proud of yourself. The time will pass anyway. Might as well make your one precious life meaningful and a hell of a lot of fun! Why else are we here anyway? And if you want to read more of my mountain of work, check out my book! Itā€™s called Wolf Mother and itā€™s an absolute flaming heart of a book. Link in bio ā™„ļø LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE!! Cheers to many many many more years of writing poetry šŸ’„šŸ’‹
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Tomorrow I turn 34! What a gift. Yā€™all know Iā€™ve been going through it lately, and the urge to fall into a pit of darkness forever was quite tempting. But Iā€™m stubborn as hell, so instead I did this: I started a note in my phone called ā€œGOOD THINGS ARE ALWAYS HAPPENING TO MEā€ and I tried to add one thing per day. This is the un-edited note, aka one of the best poems Iā€™ve ever written: Good things are always happening to me A fellow poet calls me and makes me laugh a hundred times in fifty one minutes Katie picks up on the first ring and soothes my scattered soul Christine clears my energy field and I tingle all over My son says he loves me more than cupcakes The biopsy results came back: itā€™s non-malignant He tells me he feels good again Do you hear me, heā€™s ok! My angels wrap their wings around me as I pray They pour warm white light into every cell in my body My friend reminds me to pick up my pen, and I do. I text her a poem about a cul-de-sac at ten oh five pm and she responds immediately She tells me she loves me My other friendā€™s home is at the intersection of Fury Street and Better Way Ave That says what it says. I sat with the mother tree today and I saw that she has scars too They never knocked her down. He tells me about how he dipped every mundane thing in gratitude and it all started to glow They rascal on the floor while we watch Tinkerbell Her front tooth comes out and the tooth fairy brings a chocolate donut (Sheā€™s a fairy like Tinkerbell, you know) My daughter eats the donut in the middle of the night, then brushes her teeth She tells me all about it in the morning My kids wrap up a cow and a lion in blankets and call them their babies They kiss them tenderly I come downstairs and heā€™s made guacamole! My elbows feel good. My knees feel good. I still have every single one of my toes My acupuncturist tells me my body is strong My best friendā€™s kid is best friends with my kid We ate veggies and hummus while they giggled like little hyenas in the grass out back Today the lupus tests came back negative Today we painted a whole bus with washable paint Today I have time for a nap (Cont. in comments) ā€¦THATā€™S RAD. My list is that long!ā€¦
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FAVORITE POEM EVER!!! (I mean it, I really did it this time) Who gets to live in my cul-de-sac? In another life i dwell in a sweet home with blue shutters The street is lined with one story homes Dandelions have taken over the grasses And we women are together Sarah is next door, and she always sneaks over after the kids are in bed and we drink tea or tequila on the floor We tell each other things weā€™ve never said before Nicole brings Sofie over for breakfast every morning and we sip our coffee and turn our faces to the sun She tends the blue hydrangeas and writes down all the funny things our kids say Liberty reads all our children books and makes sure there is always enough sidewalk chalk And always enough love Kassandra brings us fresh brownies and fresh eggs And there is my mother, my sisters, and their daughters all housed within one hundred steps of my own pink front door Marijo is the first house on the culdesac, she watches over us all She tells us to be brave Her daughter plays us rock and roll and we all dance! Our children run like feral animals in the fall, making piles and throwing them up into the sky In the summers they run through the sprinklers of our front lawn Candice leads the nature walks, in the forest behind our homes she teaches of nests and eggs and grown birds who can fly Erica is the one who speaks of the old gods and walks her dog between meetings She reminds us who we came from While we are all ebbing and flowing in this small space we are held Well-fed by Kaliā€™s bagels and Aliciaā€™s kale salad Sarah tells stories around the fire pit in her back yard: Japan, the army, IVF We listen, we love, we cry, we laugh My mother holds art classes for the children and feeds them all too much sugar I hug my nieces every single day! There is a book club and a pickleball court an overgrown garden because there is always plenty There is laughter blooming like the untamed dandelions we spread every time we wish Every once in a while Chelsie rides in on her red Vespa with red boots and red lipstick and no helmet whatsoeverā€¦ (Cont. in comments)
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This is whatā€™s been upā€¦ -Nature as medicine -Conversations with the Mother Tree -Slowing waaaaaay down and trying to enjoy it -Affirmations in my new journal @manifestingbookmagic -Making art with the kids! And on my own. -Ocean views from my hospital room -Crocheted a new blanket for my daughter -Red onion + raw honey tincture for colds -Lots and lots of feels -ā€œMommy can tiger drive us to school please?ā€ -Hakuna Matata to fend off grumpiness -Spidey in the car -And attempting to smile, as much as we can Not pictured: Guava cheesecake, deep talks with best friends, naps, writing the most honest poetry of my life, dreaming whole plot lines for novels, antibiotics and probiotics, reading every book about witches, dragons, or strong women I can get my hands on, acne breakouts, belly laughs about the absurdity of it all, blood draws, building forts, poems & power (DUH!), trying to go gluten free and failing (again, LOL), stories before bed, and learning to love myself in a way I never have before. Itā€™s been a wild season. What have you been up to? I would genuinely love to hear! Leave it below ā™„ļø
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NO MISTAKESā€¦ Inspired by a very stubborn infection, big decisions and ā€œDissecting the Birdā€ by @johncraigie POEM: This was not a mistake Stop what you are doing. Look left, then look right This. It was not a mistake I know, I know Everyone is shouting darkness form their lips I am in and out of the fourth floor of Hoag Hospital My own daughter smashes her pain against mine like it is a war weapon We are not at war. You must rebel against the urge to believe them! Iā€™m not saying someone somewhere orchestrated this all We all orchestrated this all But we are also like the roots and branches of every tree we have ever seen The divinity The divinity! The intelligence in your own blood weaves through these things I cling to the statement: I am no weak woman I cling to the statement: I love my body and my body loves me I cling to the statement: this is not a mistake! God, god, do you need to bash us all across the heads with your lessons? Yes. A resounding yes! We are poor listeners. We are like my children at bedtime who battle pull ups and teeth brushing Again and again as if they donā€™t remember the night before We must remember the night before! We must rejoice again We must be warriors of our own wills I am horizontal again when I wish to be on two feet I wonder at my white blood cell count and how I have let them all down again I wonder what I am to learn this time Maybe it is all a waste Or maybe it is no mistake. - @kimmerywrites YOU ARE NOT HERE ON ACCIDENT. ā€œThe universe went through a lot just to have you. It must have wanted you, pretty bad.ā€ - @johncraigie All of you, not just the pretty, happy, healthy parts. The hurt parts, the infected parts, all the parts. No part of you is a mistake.
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You said you wantedā€¦ You said you wanted me to read you more poetry, and who am I to deny you?! Here you go. This poem and many other juicy ones in my book Wolf Mother, which turns 1 this month! (Link in bio) I love you all, KEEP GOING. ā™„ļø, K
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Moderation in moderation! Who needs it? Iā€™m talking two hour baths Iā€™m talking four plates of sushi and then some Truffles on top of the Sake Toro Iā€™m talking five hundred angels watching over me There are so many they canā€™t fit in this room They perch their gilded selves atop my roof every night as I sleep One is an old medicine woman One wears a leather jacket They wrap their wings around me and heal my hurting body They fill me with something I cannot translate to the humans of this planet Iā€™m talking enough courage to fight the American Revolution Did you know Abigail Adams inoculated her own children against small pox? She cut pustules and arms open and scraped them together She saved them all! Gave her own flesh the gift of medical freedom What if we all had that power? Instead of running from thoughts like a singular animal scurrying between lightning strikes on soft sand We could wield our own minds Carve our own neural pathways Make our own bodies immune We can we can we can I am I am I am! This was supposed to be about killing moderation and itā€™s become about keeping ourselves alive Maybe they arenā€™t so different. I have rested, I have waited, I have been satiated There is nothing left to do but stand on my own two feet and howl! No whispers, inside voices, respectable tones I will loudly declare: I am in control of myself In no moderate way, I speak to every cell and every cell speaks to me I love my body and my body loves me I heal my self and my self heals me. - @kimmerywrites Inspired by Julia Childs and @poemsandpeonies ā™„ļø
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THIS ONEā€¦ is one of my favorites Iā€™ve ever written! It was also the first poem I sent out for Wolf Words, my monthly poetry subscription šŸ˜ I love it so much because it describes how GOOD and LOVING humans can be when we donā€™t have to strive to feel loved, because we already know we are loved. Always. All the time. No matter what. See people act differently when they are slathered in love. At least one person on this earth loves you, and if they donā€™t then you get to take up the divine responsibility of loving yourself. We all get to take up that torch now, no matter how old we are. No matter what weā€™ve been through. Iā€™m beginning to realize there is actually nothing more important than loving who I amā€¦ every single piece (especially the ones that are hardest to love) Because Iā€™m a different human altogether when I act from that place of being loved. And my little world around me is better for it. Join me in believing you are loved! Deeply and fully! See how life unfolds from that vantage point. ā™„ļø PS This video is just a piece. The whole thing can be read in my book Wolf Mother! The real question isā€¦ what would YOU do if you KNEW you were loved?
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