Biography of THEODORE MOSLEY
Theodore Mosley was born in Hopkins, South Carolina and raised in the South Bronx, New York. He now resides in San Diego, CA, with his wife and children and holds an Associate of Arts degree in Business Administration.
A prolific and brilliant rising poet, Mosley has been writing for many years of his adult life. Only recently in the past year has his creative relationship with the pen moved to a higher plateau. Theodore is now sharing his passion for writing with the masses and seeking to create a poetic name among the greats of his generation.
Theodore Mosley’s gift of writing displays itself vibrantly within the vivid pictures he paints in each of his original works. No subject is taboo or off limits to his probing, sometimes challenging, imagination that ranges from the power of love and nature to the personal struggles of relationships of injustice. All of his writings are encased by his great love for God and his desire for spiritual growth and development.
To date, Theodore has shared his poetic works in forums such as " The Upstart Crow Bookstore & Coffee House" in Seaport Village; online magazines " The Chocolate Voice" and " Ujima Magazine" . He has also written poems for his workplace group, African American Association of County Employees aka AAACE.
Theodore attends the Full Gospel COGIC Church in Spring Valley, CA where you will find him there every Sunday morning. He is an ordained minister, an avid worshipper and serves as Superintendent of Sunday School. He attributes all of his gifts and talents to the God that he loves and serves.
THEODORE MOSLEY Poems
I Can'T Breathe
I CAN'T BREATHE My life is not mine to sojourn with others, as I live within my corridors of hatred. I hear the silent thoughts of others, with temptations of actions that burn their desires.
Trees Dancing In The Moonlight
TREES DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT At the dawning of time we look and find creation on the eyes of the creator. The seas and the mountains are waking to the touch of smiles coming from heaven. We see the trees dancing in the moonlight and the stars begin to explore darkness for resting.
Cries In The Night
CRIES IN THE NIGHT The winter has our time and thoughts raging on the seas of flight we abandoned on the Nile. On a voyage of stolen dreams and stolen tears, the chains of their passions withheld our flesh.
Where Are We Headed
WHERE ARE WE HEADED The footnotes of the fields have taught us nothing as we wake up in the dawn of the morning. We were a people of kings and queens and our heritage was our proclamation of time. Forsaken in time we bled on the fields of cotton and on the monastery of waves of distant lands.
TREASURES HIDDEN Carved out of the mountains in time where we lived came the chains of transformation The hills of restoration and conservation became burial grounds for the first chapter. Detained and destitute we watched the stars disappear in the eyes of our captors.
Tulsa (Black Wall Street Massacre)
TULSA (BLACK WALL STREET MASSACRE 1921) History told us nothing about this history of slaughter as two lives changed the course of history. Shining shoes for wages of the day and now he is faced with a war waged on the color of his skin.
We Live Here
WE LIVE HERE Walking the streets of humanity with the intentions of living for life, we find our reward on the other side of bondage. Living for freedom, we hear the words of your chains holding our mind to the fields of your fires.
We Cry Out
WE CRY OUT Colossal fires of hatred and the sound of our liberty is extinguished with our resolve of life. Don't look upon me and see the phantom of darkness residing within your culture of righteousness.
Today (George Junius Stinney Jr)
Alcolu South Carolina in 1929 is where I received my breath of life in freedom as a young black man and in June of 1944 my history began with my death. Freedom of speech to 11 year old Betty June Binnicker and 8 year old Mary Emma Thames concluded my dreams of life.
Streets Of Time (Paul Gaston)
Walking the streets of time I became the enemy of the system that said you are not worthy of the streets you walk on. My life became the object of their disdain as I walked the concrete jungle for ways to live in my humanity.
The Color Of Our Skin
We were born a monkey out of the trees of Africa and our intellect is that of a creature worth burning. Our humane walk of life is the labor of your dreams that time created for our life in chains and feces.
Her absolute mind of independence while serving her king is her humility. Her battles are fought in the palace with her words of encouragement.
Taken From Home
He was on his way home from school and seen a puppy playing alone. Grabbing the puppy he was grabbed and his sight was taken from him. My name is Michael and I woke up inside a cage with other crying children. Scared and crying he wanted to run but his fear held him inside his cage.
Days of sorrow have passed and nights of wanting to find solace in arms of deceit are withdrawn. His body of troubles is being comforted with eyes of love and kindness.
The Moon Is Still There
THE MOON IS STILL THERE
The stars are crying in the night for the Milky Way to caress the speed of light returning to earth.
Running from space the meteor collapsed on the clouds and the rain began to submerge notes of love.
When the eclipse of the night subsided, the doors of heaven carried the Palladian of hearts to victory.
The moon is still there when the winds of the night captured the solar of the sun beaming upwards.