Category: Poems

London 

Published on by Tosha Michelle43 Comments

I recently visited the UK.  This was my fifth trip across the pond and by far my favorite. I was accompanied by my lovely friend, and resident fun girl, Kristena.  We met up with one of my favorite Brits and bloggers Alex.  If you read my posts, you know of the Alex I mean. Yes, ladies he’s just as kind in person and even more amazingly sweet. We couldn’t have asked for a better tour guide.  Nothing but love for the bearded wonder 

 We had the best time. We were there for nearly two weeks and the days went so quickly. I’m already hankering to go back. I wanted to share some photos with you.  Hope you enjoy. xx


Crushed Flowers

Published on by Tosha Michelle61 Comments

And these are my flaws
My vices.
Impatience, a tongue
sharp as a guillotine.
Caffeine. Chocolate.
Sarcasm on every occasion.
And unquenchable desire
to be loved.
A heart that is an
exhibitionist who
weeps upon
my sleeve
A fear of monochrome
colors, thunder,
the undone,
petty gossip
and letting go.
A hunger to be kissed
often and with fervor.
An awkward shyness
around new people.
A fascination with
the lure of a snowbound
life.
Not being Christian
enough to turn the
other cheek or Zen
enough to just be still.
The knowledge that my
life is unimportant
in a world with a noose
around its neck but
writing about it
anyway.
I often prefer the company
of books and my cat to
other human beings.
I live nside a cluttered
mind in a pristine house.
And not listening closely
to my Granny and her
treasury of wise words
Most which I have
forgotten, but
I do recall her saying
you must learn
to take what will
be with grace,
that our flaws
bind us
to humanity,
and to never forget
even broken crushed
flowers are beautiful
More fragrant for
their fall.
The infallible blossom
of dtrength and the will
to go

-Tosha Michelle

Every Breath You Take (Sting Cover)

Published on by Tosha Michelle20 Comments

Hello everyone.  “My gift is my song and this one’s for you” This cover goes out to one of the wittiest and sweetest guys I know. Everyone’s favorite Brit, Alex.

Find his blog here: https://alexraphael.wordpress.com/

Hope you all enjoy. Thanks for always supporting the blog. I appreciate every last one of you.

 

Next Year

Published on by Tosha Michelle93 Comments

wishing everyone only the best in 2017.

“Maybe someday,
You’ll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I’ll be home for next year, darling.
I’ll be home for next year.
And maybe sometime,
In a long time,
You’ll remember
What I had said there.
I said, I’ll be home for next year, darling,
I’ll be home for next year.”

Canada, Air Supply, and Paul

Published on by Tosha Michelle18 Comments

My lovely Canadian friend Paul was gracious enough to write a letter for me. If you aren’t following this very talented and funny guy, you are missing out on some really thought-provoking and hilarious posts. His blog has it all poetry, random musings, insight information, Canadian goodness and witticisms galore. He seems to have a weird Air Supply fetish though. Must be a Mapleleaf thing

Dear Tosha, I once mentioned Air Supply in one of my blog posts and you found it funny. So funny, in fact, that you haven’t let me forget about it. I appreciate that. That being said, my intent for this letter is to litter it with Air Supply lyrics. In fact I planned on starting this […]A Letter To Tosha

Friends, Funny, Writing, Paul’s Letters, Life, Humor, Personal, Fiction, music, Poetry, Love, People, Letter, Blogger

A Letter To Tosha

Tick Tock

Published on by Tosha Michelle25 Comments

Outside of her was history.
A shroud to the past
The living beneath a life.
beyond the open door
an engraved coin, the swell
of violins, conjured spirits,
the echos of and
etching of yesterday
The yearning for a new day.

Inside of her, dwindling reason
An endless ticking watch
The watch was her mind.

-Tosha Michelle

https://m.soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/time-after-time-rawvery-raw

Interior Design

Published on by Tosha Michelle59 Comments

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, romance,
sex, and easy to read instructions.
Instead she meditates on ice cream
Jung and HGTV
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. She turns her heart
to some inferior door, finding something buried
in red. Hope for a moment sustained 

-Tosha Michelle