“I wanna sleep next to you
But that’s all I wanna do right now.
And I wanna come home to you.
But home is just a room full of my safest sounds.
‘Cause you know that I can’t trust myself with my three A.M. shadow.
I’d rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone.
I wanna sleep next to you.
But that’s all I wanna do right now.
So come over now and talk me down”.
Reasoning
I must write to make sense
of emotions eclipsed,
sometimes before they begin.
I must write to find congruence
with those brief flashes of reality
that my heart likes
to distort in an effort
to help me live a life
that sometimes fails.
But it’s always infused with a
dysfunctional shot
of sugar and optimism.
I do my best to honor the upsurge,
but wallow in the gutter of melancholy
from poem to poem,
memory a friend and foe to
living, is cleansed through the
written word. The language
clotted by how I chose to
abandon or fashion the
hour of my regret or reprieve.
-Tosha Michelle
The Rinse Cycle
Tonight I want to forget
monotony and how the
washing machine is full
of a basket of drudgery
and disappointment.
Tonight, I want to spread
myself across the pages
of a dream. I want to forget
time and its incessant
reminder of how short
it is. Always bound to
its restraints.
Tonight I want the luxury
of silk sheets and camisole.
I want to lie in a sea of
classical music, to slip
under your brushstroke
and stay under until the
morning.
Tosha Michelle
Unsustainable
That fall he carried his notepad everywhere.
And on those crisp evenings,
I felt him shape and merge
words with paper.
Above us an inky sky,
and I longed to be nothing
but the syntax and nuances
taking form in his mind.
I rest my head on his shoulder,
watching the swaying of his pen.
I become one with the shuddering lines,
that won’t be still.
They reach out and caress my heart.
Stalling my breath.
Touching me here and here.
For a moment, I’m what he shapes.
What he imagines.
I glimmer in edges of the dark lines,
until the words splinter from me
The lines, like the writer,
elusive as the stray wind.
-Tosha Michelle
Old Love Letters
Imagine discovering a box
of old love letters.
At first glance the language
is hard to decipher,
written in the secret code
of lovers.
A past you can barely
recall. The girl
you were long since gone.
You marvel at his
dotted Is and counterstrokes,
knowing now he had
something to hide, that he
left no clues.
But now you know to read the
movement, the pattern
of his hands. You’ll trace
the beauty and betrayal
of young love by
the placement of
the periods, the allusions
and faulty script.
The blueprint of heartache
and blue eyes.
-Tosha Michelle
No Turning Back.
The well-traveled river has been everywhere one could imagine. Discerning, dividing, cutting deep into rocks. It’s seen it all. Everything has been done and said where it comes from. Yet, it still longs to return to the sea. I dip my toes into its water. The tide pushing against me, the waves echo another time and place, and a long ago hurricane far enough away now that the river should have forgotten. Yet its heart is still filled with rhe memory of seaweed. The shore, not satisfied with the sway of the waves taunts the river. Flaunting its erosion in its face.
-Tosha Michelle
Leaving on a Jet Plane
This covet goes out to my friend Randy. Lovely woman You can find her blog here.
https://newsnotes1.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/the-i-team-the-pupils-final-examination/
I would also like to thank my friend Danny for his keyboard work and harmonies on this song.
Hope you enjoy
Renderings
I scribble unutterable words
until I pulverize the paper
with my crisscross musings.
My mind stung by hornets,
My pen shivers and splinters
My fingers soften with the
release of each syllable
My heart picks up speech
from the residue
-Tosha Michelle
To paint the day in joy, a birthday poem for Tosha Michelle by Tracy Diane Miller
The very talented and always thoughtful Miss Tracy was gracious enough to write me a poem for my birthday. It was unexpected but such a lovely surprise. She truly is a gem.
To paint the day in joy, a birthday poem for Tosha Michelle by Tracy Diane Miller
If I were an artist
Do you know what I would do
I would paint the day in joy
All to celebrate you
What color is a smile
To decide may be tough
To capture the vibrancy of laughter
What color is enough
Could I call upon a Renoir
Might a Monet know the hue
A masterpiece of emotion
Leaves work for a heart to do
Maybe the heavens know the answer
I could ask the clouds to speak
The wonders framed in nature
Surely must know these colors my heart would seek
To paint the day in joy
A poet writes the words
For poetry holds no judgment
In the love that is often heard
A Muse may be tired
A Muse will not rest
To journey through my soul
For the words…
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Tosha Michelle Talks About “Everything I Never Told You”
The lovely Roberto was gracious enough to invite me to participate in an interview for his blog. It was truly an honor. I had to laugh at his literary greats comment though. How very kind and humorous.
In my series of interviews with bloggers and writers, I invited Tosha Michelle of the WordPress blog “Everything I Never Told You” to be interviewed and she accepted. It is great to have one of the literary greats of the 21st Century and to discuss diverse subject matters.
Tosha Michelle is the author of “Confessions of a Reformed Southern Belle: A Poet’s Collection of Love, Loss, and Renewal” and “Self Help to Self Harm : The Dubious Guide To Life, Love, and Relationships”. We are now going to get started.
Tosha: I hope everything is well with you. Everything is great especially since I wanted to interview you about your blog. Here are the ten questions which you can answer within a week at your own time.
1. What is the purpose of “Everything I Never Told You“?
It’s…
View original post 645 more words
Everything I Never Told You 