Category: Music

Heavenly Day

Published on by Tosha Michelle78 Comments

image

The sky announced the sun
on a day when the sun’s arrival
was enough.

The clouds curtseyed and then
fell away.

The dogwood branches swayed as
with divine provocation.

The poppies pondered providence
the afternoon light, and alliteration.

Lovers and children were devoting their hours
to the wind and newly sprung gardens.

Coins were tossed into fountains devoted
to wishes, on a day so bright surely all
desires were fulfilled.

All day long, the sun lingered as if
a love sick suitor hesitant to say goodbye
to the now blushing sky.

Sadly, the sun learned you can’t roll
back the hours or the day’s resolve
to fade into night.

All you can do is abide the darkness
and await the promise of another spring
struck, soulful blue day.

-Tosha Michelle

On the Clouds Eating His Shadow

Published on by Tosha Michelle27 Comments


The clouds drank in ravens
making the pines lucid.
His shadow fell beneath
the sky. If she listened
closely, she could hear
his melodic cadence
delivering soliloquies
adrift on the wind.
He as he was
She as she became
Awake. Aware.
Taking color and form.
Both somewhere between
what was there. What’s
not there. Someone you
remember and can’t
quite forget.
Lost mail on someone
else’s kitchen table.
The parenthesis enclosed.
Time takes away. Gone
in an instant particles
of the past.
She stays.

(She can’t stay)
Tired from this slow
burning off of yesterday.
That which was lost
will not become again.
She always thinks she
see gleams of him,
glimpsed and then gone.
The stem decimated but
drowning in rose petals.
No longer powerless
to the undertow.
His presence merely less,
but no longer wholly more.
His shadow falling,
falling into dust.
The only sound she
hears now is her
voice turning into
an early frost.
To every poem there is
a time and season.
Seasons that coagulate
into lost years.
In this one, she scourges
the past with lyrical ease
The wind no longer
contradicting itself.
Her pen drops ink
of flames, no longer
pointing to the sky.
Dr. Syntax gives her a
lollipop and a clean
bill  of closure. 

-Tosha Michelle

Angst in Verse

Published on by Tosha Michelle36 Comments

 

cropped-wp-1465485078962.jpgMy poetry knows how to
sing the blues.
It finds rhythm in lost loves,
an empty room, a whiskey shot.
It’s cadence of roving eyes
a wallet devoid of
cash. the desire to stay.
The need to go.
Misery flows from lyrics
that refuse to let it fold.

My poetry channels
Ella Fitzgerald and
dissonant chords of a broken
someone.

It thrives on restless things and memories
that come to life in a song

Moaning the words so fervently, the ink drips
to save me, even when I’m out of tune.
And I can only glimpse
where I’ve been, not where I’m going.
The want for new history
and a new song spurs the poet on.

-Tosha Michelle

 

And on a u related and happy note. I am in love with this song. It takes me to a serene place.

 

A Mind 

Published on by Tosha Michelle24 Comments

A mind should implode, unfold, and behold all beauty, all monstrosities, lions, joined with lambs, with whales, the ocean, living words, flowing emotions, before the forest dies. Before the notes become too high to scale. Before the sliver coin flips over Before we realizes we are all mice and the serpent awaits.

-Tosha Michelle 

His

Published on by Tosha Michelle28 Comments

There’s a place
reserved just for him.
It’s not hidden.
No other bodies lie there.
A feeling-
bare walls.
Open door.
I think his eyes made it.
I say what I intend to say,
to say this affection, affectionately
not affected is true,
this sayable place that
is his.

-Tosha Michelle

and on and unrelated note
my cover of John Lengend’s “All Of Me”

I Am 

Published on by Tosha Michelle41 Comments

I’m the woman who believes in thorns,
the beauty of fallen fruit,
and lavishing love on the lovable
and unlovable.

I’m generous, difficult, and incomplete.
I have spells of sullen iciness,
and moments of hot tea and clarity.

I’m the woman who can only be
of this world for moments at a time.
My soul affixed to solitude
and one darkness after another.

When the lights finally come back on,
I confess I like a warm arm around my waist
and a strong shoulder to rest my chaotic head.

I’m also partial to masculine fingers
that know how to coax my color back,
under silk sheets, with creative words,
and hands of purpose.

I’m often confused. Do I succumb
to the screeching crow
or pay homage to the nightingale?

I’m the woman who would go
anywhere to leave you,
but will beg you to come with me.
When we get there, I’ll fight with you
over the map and then kiss you
on the street.

I’m an expert at backbends.
I practice them every night
under memory’s disco light.

I hide an extra heart under my bed
in a packed suitcase of longing.

I’m the woman waiting for good enough
to be enough. Still, always wanting
more of much. Knowing life, like art,
is what we make it.

We all deserve something more than nothing.
I’m insignificant, and at times narcissistic.

I’m the broken woman.
cracked, bent. Damaged.

I’m the woman becoming whole,
becoming more me with each new break, with each new tear in my heart 

-Tosha Michelle

My cover of “Night Changes”

Listen to Night Changes by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud

All About Men -A New List 

Published on by Tosha Michelle24 Comments

 My darling friend Randy is a big fan of my silly lists so this is for her and all you men out there. I must confess these are my favorite kind and it’s about time I did a new one.

What Women Wished Men Knew

1. We don’t like mixed signals. Mixed drinks on the other hand

2. Don’t walk ahead of us. Walk with us and hold our hand. 

3. Chocolate and jewelry will get you out of a world of trouble

4. The kitchen counter, up against a wall, on your desk are great places to place knickknacks or if you can think of something better to do with the aforementioned, we’d be totally down for that

5. Sometimes we cry. Deal with it

6. If were having sex with you, odds are we care, so proceed cautiously when it comes to our feelings

7. When we talk, listen. Yes, with your ears and with your heart and mind

8. Sometimes being romantic just means being there and in the moment

9. Don’t be afraid of that universal, wonderful little four letter word… 

Menu 

10. You are unique and special but Beyoncé sums ir up best. Don’t you ever get to thinking