“Say something, I’m giving up on you
I’ll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would’ve followed you
Say something, I’m giving up on you”
My vocal cover of “Say Something” by A Great Big World
Author: Tosha Michelle
Poet. Author. Podcast host- Chit Chat Chicks. MS Purdue. Proponent of words, creativity, kindness, and humanity.
Steady
Last night I dreamed I was
a blackbird and you didn’t get
my song
I was a wild flower but you
couldn’t see my beauty, only
the cracks in the sidewalk
I tried to shimmer, to show you
my grace
But you see through me
dissolving my bones
Again and again I come back
to you in some form
You look at me but
do not know me
I keep hoping that one day
you’ll remember my name
An Introvert Goes to a Party.
Tonight, I’d rather be home
getting lost in antique spines.
Craving the casual, yoga pants
and T-shirt. .Ditching this party
and dress. I can’t relate to
razzle dazzle, hoity toity
The desire for loud. My
symphony has always
been quiet.
These people
are a splinter in my isolated
hope chest for one. They
are a complex Allegory of
celebratory nothingness
Outward they glimmer
Inward, just a flicker.
I’m my own mistress of
distraction, mapping out
a poem in my head,
as some fool
in a too tight corset
tells me stories
about her latest boyfriend
who has a love for the
voluptuous and shallow.
The latter is just
an assumption on my
part.
As the clock ticks
inside my head,
sounding more
like bedtime, bedtime,
than tick tock. I note
the exit, I must reach
it before I’m tempted
to try hemlock.
I escape into wallpaper
border and sit down by
a napping cat. I stencil
my name on a gravestone
of banality and toss my
party dress off a bridge
I dissolve into particles
of light and reemerge in
bathwater of blessed
tranquility. I find kismet
with my bath mate, the
one I love-Solitude
We celebrate lavender and
quiet things. Afterwards,
I put on a night gown
of silence and
climb under a blue
comforter, under the
bluest of moon.
Finding serenity
in the stillness
-Tosha Michelle
Framing the Scene
You’re always fluttering around.
I watch you, scared you might fall.
I want to lead you to the right song, to the right flowerbed.
Instead I spin in the air. My form lost among the pines.
The light I had to lead us home, long since gone.
Should we follow the glow of the moon?
Sing to the wind? Give it a few days to answer.
Perhaps I should leave my heart in a wicker basket.
Cover myself in morning dew.
Abandon the very thought of you.
-Tosha Michelle
Almost Lover
Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind
Images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick
Listen to Almost Lover by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud
Hands of Gold
Spring whispers when you are near.
Breathe your name into my ear.
Tell me your stories,
especially the ones
written on ancient tapestry.
Give me flower seeds I can plant.
I’ve stumbled through the bramble
to find you.
I was not seeking this knotty retreat,
but look how my leaves
have taken to the light.
Carry me to the highest treetop.
Fly with me on the wind.
Watch over me when my mind
plays peekaboo with the dark.
When I can’t locate myself on any map,
and I’m lost a land wishing to destroy me.
Give me the gold of your heart.
The stream of your resolve.
The pixie dust of your hands.
For me, at least, your magic is enough.
-Tosha Michelle
And So It Goes
And this is why my eyes are closed
It’s just as well for all I’ve seen
And so it goes and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows
https://soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/so-it-goes-billy-joel-cover
A Scholarly Gentleman
One of my best friends is celebrating his birthday soon and I wanted to do something special for him. Niles and I go way back and we’ve been seen some (insert curse word here) Twelve years of friendship and our bond just grows stronger.
This is my tribute to a gentleman with a lovely creative soul. Niles, thanks for being you and always getting me. Love, respect and snark always.
“The Gentleman Writer”
Seemingly readable and uncomplicated
Underneath he burns like the red sun.
Unruly ghosts tapdance in his head
He orders them in poetic verse
Laying claim to a writer’s vocation
Here his imploded dreams come to fruition
He spins his hope into a July moon
Ink becomes his salvation.
as he basks in the white heat
moments of no sound.
Knowing words are a gift
His fingers loosen the bow.
-Tosha Michelle
Listen to For Good by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud
https://soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/for-good
Happy birthday, sir
May the
be plentiful.
always win
And
find her way to your door.
Again and Again
I know I mention this guy a lot and honestly, it’s because I like him so much more than the rest of you. I’m kidding. I adore you all but I am super fond of this lovely Brit. You will be too. Check out his poem and please encourage him to write more. Oh and follow him. He’s sure to return the favor
Happy Friday. God save the Queen and us all xx
https://alexraphael.wordpress.com/2013/12/10/the-hand-of-nature/
What Would Keats Do?
Beautiful, meaningful poetry
is always possible.
Think of Shakespeare
and his sonnets.
Frost and his road
less traveled.
The poem I’m writing now
may be beautiful
and full of meaning.
It may not be.
Perhaps, it’s too early to tell.
Should I keep going?
What if I’m trying to hard
to create art?
The verses will show the pressure.
I want my poetry
to remind the reader
of themselves,
not so much the poet.
I want them to listen alone
with their own minds and hearts.
Maybe the secret
to beautiful poetry
full of depth
is not caring.
Perhaps, when I leave
poetry behind, abandon words
and have no desire to write,
that’s where great writing
will find me.
As I sit reading Anne Sexton,
I’ll remember what I once
would have sacrificed
to create art that matters.
And I’ll pick up my pen and paper
and write the poetry I dreamed of
as though I was another poet,
and as if i were the poet,
I may never be again.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 