Author: Tosha Michelle

Poet. Author. Podcast host- Chit Chat Chicks. MS Purdue. Proponent of words, creativity, kindness, and humanity.

Just Stop

Published on by Tosha Michelle34 Comments

I want to reside inside the voice
of a Tibetan monk
And be lulled to sleep by the silence.
Instead the irritating cadence
of political discourse
Uncivil and unholy
The hills alive with the sound
of madness.
The breeze tinged with malice
even the birds
feel forsaken. Aimlessly looking
for just one branch
of grace. The tree limbs breaking
under the weight of
an uncertain future.
We beseech the earth for guidance.
Warring with hot air.
Hoping the world will revolve anew.

The axis and rhetoric
spin on.

-Tosha Michelle

Interview With Tosha Michelle

Published on by Tosha Michelle6 Comments

I was interviewed by the exceptional and talented Amanda from Mandibelle16 If you get a chance check it out. She really came up with a wonderful set of questions.

Amanda is also a gifted poet. Her poetry is full of depth and beauty. If you aren’t following her, you should be.

Mandibelle16's avatarMandibelle16

Happy Monday! Welcome to my bi-weekly interview series. I am happy to share with you September’s second interview: the fascinating, beautiful, and gifted poet,Tosha Michelle from the blog — Everything I Never Told You: Lucidly In Shadows, Poetry From A Hand That Writes Misty. 

Please take a look at her blog here: Everything I Never Told You

Tosha Michelle

1. Tell Us About Yourself Tosha? 

My name is Tosha Michelle and I hail from the land of grits and sweet tea. I’m a poet and author of two books — Confessions of a Reformed Southern Belle and Self Help toSelf Harm. The first is a chapbook and contains some of my earlier poems. The latter is my silly take on the self help genre. I’ve written things since I was a child but I didn’t take up blogging until about five-years-ago.I’m also an abolitionist and Academia addict. I’m…

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Talk Me Down

Published on by Tosha Michelle9 Comments

“I wanna sleep next to you
But that’s all I wanna do right now.
And I wanna come home to you.
But home is just a room full of my safest sounds.
‘Cause you know that I can’t trust myself with my three A.M. shadow.
I’d rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone.
I wanna sleep next to you.
But that’s all I wanna do right now.
So come over now and talk me down”.

Reasoning 

Published on by Tosha Michelle29 Comments

I must write to make sense
of emotions eclipsed,
sometimes before they begin.
I must write to find congruence
with those brief flashes of reality
that my heart likes
to distort in an effort
to help me live a life
that sometimes fails.
But it’s always infused with a
dysfunctional shot
of sugar and optimism.
I do my best to honor the upsurge,
but wallow in the gutter of melancholy
from poem to poem,
memory a friend and foe to
living, is cleansed through the
written word. The language
clotted by how I chose to
abandon or fashion the
hour of my regret or reprieve.

-Tosha Michelle 

Unsustainable

Published on by Tosha Michelle48 Comments

image

That fall he carried his notepad everywhere.
And on those crisp evenings,
I felt him shape and merge
words with paper.
Above us an inky sky,
and I longed to be nothing
but the syntax and nuances
taking form in his mind.

I rest my head on his shoulder,
watching the swaying of his pen.
I become one with the shuddering lines,
that won’t be still.
They reach out and caress my heart.
Stalling my breath.
Touching me here and here.
For a moment, I’m what he shapes.
What he imagines.
I glimmer in edges of the dark lines,
until the words splinter from me

The lines, like the writer,
elusive as the stray wind.

-Tosha Michelle

Old Love Letters 

Published on by Tosha Michelle64 Comments

Imagine discovering a box
of old love letters.
At first glance the language
is hard to decipher,
written in the secret code
of lovers.
A past you can barely
recall. The girl
you were long since gone.
You marvel at his
dotted Is and counterstrokes,
knowing now he had
something to hide, that he
left no clues.
But now you know to read the
movement, the pattern
of his hands. You’ll trace
the beauty and betrayal
of young love by
the placement of
the periods, the allusions
and faulty script.
The blueprint of  heartache
and blue  eyes.

-Tosha Michelle

No Turning Back.

Published on by Tosha Michelle47 Comments

The well-traveled river has been everywhere one could imagine. Discerning, dividing, cutting deep into rocks. It’s seen it all. Everything has been done and said where it comes from. Yet, it still longs to return to the sea. I dip my toes into its water. The tide pushing against me, the waves echo another time and place, and a long ago hurricane far enough away now that the river should have forgotten. Yet its heart is still filled with rhe memory of seaweed. The shore, not satisfied with the sway of the waves taunts the river. Flaunting its erosion in its face.

-Tosha Michelle 

Leaving on a Jet Plane 

Published on by Tosha Michelle53 Comments

This covet goes out to my friend Randy. Lovely woman  You can find her blog here.

https://newsnotes1.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/the-i-team-the-pupils-final-examination/

I would also like to thank my friend Danny for his keyboard work and harmonies on this song.

Hope you enjoy

To paint the day in joy, a birthday poem for Tosha Michelle by Tracy Diane Miller

Published on by Tosha Michelle84 Comments

The very talented and always thoughtful Miss Tracy was gracious enough to write me a poem for my birthday. It was unexpected but such a lovely surprise. She truly is a gem.

Tracy Diane Miller's avatarlifeisawalkingshadow

To paint the day in joy, a birthday poem for Tosha Michelle by Tracy Diane Miller

If I were an artist
Do you know what I would do
I would paint the day in joy
All to celebrate you
What color is a smile
To decide may be tough
To capture the vibrancy of laughter
What color is enough
Could I call upon a Renoir
Might a Monet know the hue
A masterpiece of emotion
Leaves work for a heart to do
Maybe the heavens know the answer
I could ask the clouds to speak
The wonders framed in nature
Surely must know these colors my heart would seek
To paint the day in joy
A poet writes the words
For poetry holds no judgment
In the love that is often heard
A Muse may be tired
A Muse will not rest
To journey through my soul
For the words…

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