Author: Tosha Michelle

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

Silence

Published on by Tosha Michelle103 Comments

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Sometimes even the flutter
of moth wings is too loud.
I crave silence. I even write
in hushed tones under an oak
tree where nature seems
spiritual and serenity touches
me through the dew filled daisies.
I raise my pen to the sun.
I take in the charm of fresh air,
a storytelling of peace. It’s easier
to trust in the smell of honeysuckles
and the blueness above than humans.
People vanish with the seasons and create
noise and chaos inside my head. But the sky,
today, at least, is a reliable ally.
It whispers to me in
calm meditative tones
In the quiet I breathe again.

-Tosha Michelle

Understanding

Published on by Tosha Michelle86 Comments

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I always want the things I can’t understand.
And I want understanding
from the things I can’t understand.
I turn them over in my mind like a Rubik’s Cube,
or an outdated reference.

This is regardless, of the things I have and do understand.

What’s the demarcation between settling and unrealistic expectations?

Why am I more interested in the mist than seeing the horizon?

What is it I think I’m missing: sex, romance, adventure, simplicity, humidity?

Blocked by what- responsiblility, obligations, discipline, weather?

I don’t want the mist to clear.
I play keep away with the sun.

The wheels on the bus
turn round and round but
I’m not waiting on a ride.
I’m going nowhere.

Maybe my mind just has a grudge against me.
Look at it always wanting something more,
in spite of….

-Tosha Michelle

Loving You

Published on by Tosha Michelle80 Comments

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Something sweet and romantic
____

Loving you is a Saturday
feeling and a Sunday stroll.
For you, the encrypted
become unencrypted.

You will never not love me,
even when our weekends turn into
Mondays.

Even when our photos
become monuments of us,
a still life of
sunlight and cedar,
the girl I was, abloom
in a field of beginnings.

Love that can’t hide
in a napkin, a coffee spill
or a blade of grass.

Liveable lives.
Forgivable.

Serene seas and mountains,
and the artifacts of
a champagne flute,
periwinkle shirts
and promises.

The litter of swoon
and our once in a
lifetime constellation.

-Tosha Michelle

Vicious Cycle

Published on by Tosha Michelle74 Comments

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Unseen memories.
Thoughts of yesterday,
Circle an empty room.
They don’t make a sound.
Scars commiserate with
what was in a silent benediction.
Nothing stirs, except my soul.
The past is everywhere.
The past is nowhere.
Years have gone by, and
still I can’t stop collecting
dust of spent regrets.
The particles a reflection
of what is left of the light.

-Tosha Michelle

Listen to Fields – Of – Gold -Vocals and Guitar by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud

Fault Lines

Published on by Tosha Michelle54 Comments

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Why is happiness so fragile?
It can disappear so quickly,
like the dandelions along
the roadside in spring.

Have you noticed how
quickly judgement comes
with those unfamiliar with
the scope of the night,
the serrated edge of
life, the blunt
edge of depression?

I sit in the grass watching
the moon rise and I
wonder if we can live
our way into happiness,
into being. I’ve spent
the whole of my life
on the precipice of
sinking deep, and far
into the bottom of
darkness. I’ve been
drawn to my limit, but
I always spring back
anchored by hope, by
faith. I always stand
back up and run toward
happiness, waiting for its
embrace, like being scooped up
in the arms of a strong man,
who loves me even if I
can’t see the horizon,
and I’m constantly stuck
between continents in
death cold current.
I never drop. I never stop
hoping.

-Tosha Michelle

Be

Published on by Tosha Michelle83 Comments

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October, early evening.

Remember the walk in the park, at dusk,
after hours spent daydreaming? Attune your heart
to the streetlights illuminating, the leaves,
aglow with autumn. The book of trees an understory
all gold, like a good plot all shiny, tangled,
bitter and sweet. Lift your face to the crisp wind,
to the pines, to the melody in the air. Sing along.
Remember the hopeful feeling like getting the first editions
of your favorite books or a passionate kiss from someone
who understands your quirks and finds them sexy. Lean into nature.
The improbable full moon, so big and bright no camera lens or artist’s hands could reproduce. Climb into the open sky, even the night. Remember. Relax. Be.

-Tosha Michelle

For Alex. My less than perfect cover of “Wings” by Birdy. Thanks for the request.

Endless 

Published on by Tosha Michelle7 Comments

I drink this silence
like water.
I eat serenity like bread.
The pines and oak reshapes my
chaotic head.
The moss green and grass
pillow my body.
Shadows uphold my unadorned soul.
Gravity thy name is Earth.
I fall toward you today.
I grow with the light,
and the beauty of an unreadable sky.
I’m as warm and as calm
as the sun bare face shinning
down on me.

-Tosha Michelle 

Incomplete Melody

Published on by Tosha Michelle84 Comments

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Sometimes I sing in incomplete rhymes.
I write in crayon and leave
my shoes beside the sandbox.
I sign my letters with x and o.
I ponder in doubt, the crisscross musings
speaking out loud.

Sometimes a woman needs
flowers out of season, homegrown vegetables,
sex, and easy to read instructions.
Instead she meditates on ice cream
and the Home Shopping Channel.
Attempts to become enlightened.
Prays to paper and pen.
Looking for an all encompassing view.
Hoping for an all embracing embrace.
She offers herself to drumbeat and sage.
The rhythm under the air, turns her heart
to some inferior door, finding something buried
in red.

-Tosha Michelle

My cover of “Never Saw Blue Like That”

Listen to Never Saw Blue Like That by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud

A Letter to My No One.

Published on by Tosha Michelle84 Comments

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To Whom it May Concern,

Forgive me for writing unsolicited poetry about you. It’s just you bring out the John Keats in me (some would say without the talent). I know I lack decorum. Is it that insane that I want to buy you flowers? Ruminate on your good looks? Try and capture your wit and grace in mad verse?

I may never walk beside you in the night, but you’re still my favorite scar/ star. My poetry longs to stir your breath, knowing in reality you are an inert thing. I look for any form of self justification to keep holding on. This will only end in tears. But still I turn to pen, to paper, to assuaged you. I hope my words are a benediction to your being. I long to neither save nor condemn you but merely lace your altar with beauty.

Your lightning holds no promise of rain, only frost. Yet, just like a misguided dove, I keep flying in the wrong direction. I’m not concerned with the cold. I’m like the wind, a contradiction. I never can right my mind for long. How do I scourge indecisiveness from my heart? I’m stuck in perpetual twilight. Nothing can be salvaged. My soul should dream no further, but it does, and I do. You’re a part of my weather now. Your humidity is felt inside of me.

I must close this letter and get back to my life. It’s time to dance and stumble around with shadows. But first, I’ll look out the window and see the dry leaves stirring and shaking as they fall to the ground, and imagine you. One last time. One more time.

-Tosha Michelle