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
Category: Poems
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
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
My Reason
Words are irresistible.
I cling to them for salvation.
I’ve written hundreds
of poems, some, no one
should ever have to read.
I skim the edges of life
to find inspiration. Sometimes
I invent what I need.
My sentences brighten by
imagination. I baptize myself
in the alphabet, finding rebirth.
Happiness is found in revision
and new verse. I’m constantly
moving toward poetry, to relieve
this heaviness of heart and pen.
The ink echoing hope, my creative
ascension begins.
-Tosha Michelle
Begin Again
“And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ’cause he never did
I’ve been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again”
Crafting
The only light worth having
is the light you have to work for.
I try and find it in my craft.
But sometimes I’m angry with
words- the pen- the paper- the
storm scape inside my head.
Yet I write best in restless hues.
Red with an undercoat of black.
I grasp for understanding.
I look but can’t see.
Clarity is a lie told by the
mentally sane. I sit at my desk
a labyrinth of doubt, trying to find
the middle ground between dark and
a glimmer of unfurling light.
Knowing joy is unsustainable
but knowing what I do not know.
-Tosha Michelle
For You
For you, I would paint
the undercoat of grey
a cheery yellow.
We would live well
in a settled blue,
touched by fiery red.
I would give you words
to eat, starting from
scratch. Syllables that
teach us how to be happy,
how to negotiate with
dark clouds.
For you, I would gloss
the vernacular of porn
stars, and crack the night
open with anatomy,
and backseat geography.
Unbuttoned periwinkle
shirt, pants flying off.
I’d be the force of nature
you saw God in.
a piece of light that turns
to a flame.
I’d take you where we
could water the moon.
Two celestial wonders
finding a new constellation.
Alive and quivering in
the unknown.
For you, I would offer
my fractured soul and
a flight map of scars
I’d give you my outlaw
truths, the real story,
and a fresh love
devoid of pipe smoke.
I would give you days
made entirely of lilacs
and grapes.
Together we would relearn
how to claim the drumbeat
and rise like a dove,
just winging it.
-Tosha Michelle
My cover of “Falling Slowly” One of my favorite songs.
Missing You
“Everytime I think of you, I always catch my breath
And I’m still standing here, and you’re miles away
And I’m wonderin’ why you left
And there’s a storm that’s raging
through my frozen heart tonight”
My cover of “missing You” by John Waite (For Alex)
Find him here:
