Something Else?

Life is an imperfect story
And the poet leaves things out
My poem is telling.
But is it telling me?
Is my wordsmithing soulsmithing?
My pen taps on wood, in hopes of getting somewhere.

My mind uses words, as grapes uses wine
Glass by glass I pour myself
into the narrative
Endrunken wishes and longing,
secrets and half truth spill
red on the pages. revealing my broken
rain song, my ink crazed brains

-Tosha Michelle

High Praises


Oh Goddess of rejections,
insecurities, sleepless
nights, and the sink
that always seems to leak.

Oh Goddess of loneliness,
depression, evenings spent
looking for hope in the
foggy light of isolation.

Oh Goddess of endless
chores, mundane errands,
always lurking around,
watching me toil and spin.

Goddess of painful memories
collected in a heart jar.
Unfulfilled dreams and desires.
The oil slick of wasted time.

I love you for forcing me to feel;
As I stand here holding onto
the railing of my sanity.

I thank you for the hands
wrapped around my neck.

For each tussle with the sun,
that always hides behind
a cloud of chaos.

At least I’m still here, kicking,
and dodging, the shadow crop of
my mind. I know how to make fire,
while others still struggle with flint.

For you it was never about high praises.
You live for the forlorn.
You know the insincerity of the thorn bush.

I praise you for the shattered,
the weeds, the bee stings, the
thunder clouds, every skinned knee,
wilted flowers, the dove that
refuses to eat from my hand.

Oh Goddess of imperfection,
You know that despair is the beauty
life and poetry are made of.

Thank you for teaching me this.
My tears and words sing back
a hallelujah for the pain.

-Tosha Michelle

Gravity, Heathcliff, Cathy- Music and Friendship

For my lovely friend Alex.  Thanks for being my pal, confidante, partner in crime, and fellow foodie.

You can follow his blog here:  Lots of wonderful stuff there.

Alex’s blog

A good friend is a connection to life – a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world



Don’t let the memoirs
of your life
become the journey you
wish you’d taken
No matter how far inland
the air is sugar.
Savor it’s sweetness.

Let the soul gather trinkets,
while there’s still time.
Create your own republic.
Let the moonlight follow you.
Find your huckleberry friend.

Lie down in the tweed of him
Love the wool of him.
Take refuge in the heat
Even if one day it becomes a
spectacular tragedy of ruins.
Believe love isn’t just a conspiracy
There’s always more waiting
around the bend.

After all the poet ask
How many hours do we have
to feel beautiful, to be alive?

-Tosha Michelle


Tonight I surrender everything
I have left undone to the wind
broken promises, letters I wrote,
but never sent, almost loves,
lost loves, regret. No questions.
Why or how no longer matter
They’ve been used up by yesterday.
Some just hallucinations
along my misguided way.

I’ve lingered too long in bramble
My skin marred by briars
Looking to find my way out
by the light of others eyes.
Hoping someone would decipher
the hidden shapes of my soul.

Alone with the begotten shadows,
iilluminated by the moon
I find clarity. The answer in release..
In letting go, I become lighter
Besotted with the fever of liberation.
A lomg time gone now
I find myself.
I am free.

-Tosha Michelle

Misguided Ghosts

Sometimes everything is rhetorical
Everything is monochrome
My limbs wracked with rain
I tread gingerly.
I make promises I may not keep
Go on with my soltuide,
my soliloquy.
I’m almost out of words.
Knowing you cannot grasp
what you cannot hold
Things vanish all the time
And what is only left of me, is
me only.

-Tosha Michelle