Author: Tosha Michelle

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

He Is 

Published on by Tosha Michelle54 Comments

He’s that something to lean

on that doesn’t give away

under the weight of my fears.

He receives my light and

returns it.

He unlocks my secrets and hides

the key.

Into his ears he listens as I speak

my demons in an inexhaustible

language.

For once I’m not afraid of the wind

breaking my flowerpots.

He pulls my hands away from

my eyes and encourages me

to look at the beauty of the sky.

He takes my hand and we follow

the blue bird into the woods.

My soul lights up with every

sways of the tree branches.

I breathe in the golden air.

Knowing it will linger on

even if there is a change in

the atmosphere.

Let the wind announce rain.

Let it stick to my hair, muddy

my feet.

I’ll just slip closer to his light,

closer to his arms, back to

dreams where the world opens

endlessly for me.

Tosha Michelle

Almost Do

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I bet this time of night you’re still up.
I bet you’re tired from a long hard week.
I bet you’re sitting in your chair by the window looking out at the city.
And I bet sometimes you wonder about me.
And I just wanna tell you
It takes everything in me not to call you.
And I wish I could run to you.
And I hope you know that every time I don’t
I almost do,
I almost do.

“Almost Do” Taylor Swift

And Everything 

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He makes my heart leap

But i’m so very careful of the rocks

In the distance I see the lush

greenness of the vineyard.

The roots true. The vines ripe

Do I have faith in the landscape?

It still looks abstract from here.

I walk on with my shoes of hope

wearing clear blue skies and a

thawed out soul.

 

Still I worry about a change in

the weather, falling into a ravine

My spirit like a sacred dare

challenges me to forget my fears,

to journey on deeper into what

could become less or more.

 

His voice in the distance

permeates my darker self until

all I see is sunlight.

Who can say what dust will bring?

Wine or a cloud spun our of

misguided fate?.

 

For now the light glimmers

How freeing it is branching

it’s way out into the unknowns.

 

-Tosha Michelle

 

Show me some discipline – Runaway American Dream

Published on by Tosha Michelle15 Comments

My thanks to the Anthony for the poem dedication. If you aren’t following him, you’re missing out on some stellar writing, photography, and music. Oh and most importantly, his ongoing romance with Jersey girl. If you think his poem for me was lovely., check out his amazing verse for his girl….so beautiful and romantic. Sigh worthy stuff.

Follow him and the yellow brick road, but mostly him. Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

https://runawayamericandreamsite.wordpress.com/2016/07/27/show-me-some-discipline/

Doll Friend

Published on by Tosha Michelle29 Comments


My voice is a tiny grain
in his skull to be devoured
by vultures or fertilized by madness.
Evey morning as I rise I
pay homage to his stony
face. I read novels into
his stature that never moves
He never remembers anything
beyond his well preened shoes
I type with one eye open well
into the day. In stillness,
he stares narratives through me
Frantically , I write nightmares
in bold font until I am spent.
At midnight I place him back under glass.
My eggs firmly stored in his basket.

Still The One

Published on by Tosha Michelle36 Comments

They said, “I bet they’ll never make it.”
But just look at us holding on
We’re still together, still going strong

(you’re still the one)
You’re still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You’re still the one I want for life
(you’re still the one)
You’re still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You’re still the one I kiss good night

-Shania Twain lyrics

My cover for The Lonely Author and his wife Allie, Anthony and Jersey girl, John and Terry

https://soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/still-the-one

Why?

Published on by Tosha Michelle92 Comments

When I get tired.
I sometimes wonder
what’s this poetry
thing all about?

What am I writing for?
During these times
I’m usually stuck
in a creative muck,
I still don’t dare
call it a rut.

There’s no food
in the picnic basket
so I eat drudgery instead.
My mouth full of lost time.

I’m so hungry for words
that have run off
with my silk dresses.
I dream of nouns, adjectives,
and verbs, sinking
in a sea of syntax.

I try to dive in
but get stuck in the sand.
I sit along the shore
I wait. As seagulls fly
from under my bed,
my silk dresses hanging
from up above.
I reach for them
while I still can.

-Tosha Michelle 

Collide 

Published on by Tosha Michelle52 Comments

For David and Jen and Tony and Jersey girl 

Tonight I feel more alone than the moon

overthrown by the clouds.

I take solace in the rain, the sway of the trees

being shaken out like a well loved blanket by the wind.

I know you are out there under the horizon. We’re on the same Earth.

The moon plays peekaboo with you too.
I understand how time zones float like helium balloons across the globe.

But the sky and this poem know how much I want you here.

I want to look at you

and mark how time changes you,

as it changes us.

I want to love you up close.
It’s true as you say, distance doesn’t define love, we do.

We always find each other. I look up at the sky,

just in time to see the moon sneak through the clouds.

It whispers to me in sibilance.
For a moment you come closer. Comforted by the knowledge of you,

I speak to you in trees and air.

The gray eyes of the night translates my love diction,

as the Milky Way pours itself over two lovers

swept up on a star yet to be named.
-Tosha Michelle

Stairway to Somewhere?

Published on by Tosha Michelle45 Comments

Here under the tent, we say
our final goodbye. Soon your
coffin will be lowered into the ground.
The crowd folds like fall foliage,
with promises that it will get better
and death is not the end.
What will they remember of you?
Your smile? The broach you always wore?
The photo of you on the beach
in your Sunday best, with sunglasses
as stylish as Jackie O’s.
Please send me a sign,
a popcorn kernel of hope
that your spirit lives on.
That your soul is in a peaceful
place. That days and years
from now, we’ll find you again.
I question the sky. It reflects
back light then dark. No
definitive answers there.
Yet still I search eternity,
for you. This depth of feeling
keeps me pondering infinity.
This anguish spurs me on.

-Tosha Michelle

Grace 

Published on by Tosha Michelle67 Comments


I’ve inhaled tbe spell of honeysuckles
I’ve invented my own fortune,
spinning them into the fabric of my skin.
I leave poems behind for you to read
I sing you songs made of
moonshine and starlight.
The keening of my heart
in every note.
I no longer believe in stories with no endings
but I do believe we create
our own beginnings.

-Tosha Michelle