Stratospheric Eyes

Published on by Tosha Michelle73 Comments

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For David and Jen and Tony and Jersey girl 

Tonight I feel more alone than the moon
overthrown by the clouds.
I take solace in the rain, the sway of the trees
being shaken out like a well loved blanket by the wind.
I know you are out there under the horizon. We’re on the same Earth.
The moon plays peekaboo with you too.

I understand how time zones float like helium balloons across the globe.
But the sky and this poem know how much I want you here.
I want to look at you
and mark how time changes you,
as it changes us.
I want to love you up close.

It’s true as you say, distance doesn’t define love, we do.
We always find each other. I look up at the sky,
just in time to see the moon sneak through the clouds.
It whispers to me in sibilance.

For a moment you come closer. Comforted by the knowledge of you,
I speak to you in trees and air.
The gray eyes of the night translates my love diction,
as the Milky Way pours itself over two lovers
swept up on a star yet to be named.

-Tosha Michelle

Upon Hearing of Your Passing.

Published on by Tosha Michelle48 Comments

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Years from now when I read of your passing, I won’t imagine you in some abstract place. I want to picture you where you were the happiest- by the stream, where the ocean is never far, with book in hand, countless chapters, and no one to interrupt you.

Relaxing under a cerulean sky, blue-winged birds soaring.
The years, an heir to what was, golden, swinging light
as a breeze on an olive branch. The sky opening in their final valediction.

The sunlight dusting your hair, the fringe of grass.
The water from the stream flowing upward against the backdrop
of an eternal, carefree day.

The wisp of yourself pouring into the syntax in front of you. Words open again and again. Never taking back what they promise.
A thousand words to sustain you. Peace hemmed cover to endless cover.

Paused on the footnote of the page, you look up. Freedom in your gaze. Liberation in the moment. How still you are. How content. The words happening here. You look back down: your finger in the book. Your heart still, attuned to the glimmering of the stone.
The precipice attained.

-Tosha Michelle

Kindergarten baby

Published on by Tosha Michelle53 Comments

Her poetry so simple.
God, strictly elementary.

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Sometimes the poet wishes
to sing what she means.

She has no time for red velvet stars
or a cinnamon moon.

The flash of alliteration
or wandering couplets.

She prefers the bunny
in the hat.

She’s not trying to entertain
or get your cash.

She doesn’t mix her ink
or words.

She sometimes speaks in doubt,
she writes with her crayons out.

Her instructions are easy to read
but this isn’t some syntax
by numbers kit.

She cultivated metaphors and
coordinates for her mind.

Schooled in sadness,
she attempts enlightenment.

Prays to the paper on her desk,
while turned to some interior
door covered in blue.

Offers her soul in heartstrings
and unencumbered truth.

Sometimes the poet wants you
to understand the music
under the air,
to notice the
Milky Way
of scars.

The complexity of cotton.
that goes beyond shimmer
and lace.

She doesn’t need you to toss her
a rose or two.

She just hopes you understand
the subtle cadences of her bird song,
spinning in hope’s current,
looping back art
to a natural sound.

-Tosha Michelle

Apathy is the new compassion

Published on by Tosha Michelle71 Comments

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Because if you are a human being,
you should try it at least once in your life,
assuming you’re already in that delinquent minority
of people who actually give a damn.

In which case it is imperative that you deny your nature.
Pay no mind to the wounded, those hurting, those living
in poverty, those abused and degraded

Your conscience might try to entice you
into fighting these wars.
Don’t be tempted to be a regime of change.
Be the most pathetic of apathetic.
Be an emphatic sack of nothing.
Become fish like with your feelings.
Let summer revolve solely around you.
Become Dionysius favorite daughter.
Affix yourself to a incubus of
laissez-faire.

Don’t have eyes that see and are able
to to derive a lesson from a flaw.
Don’t have ears that are able
to discern a cry for help
from a sports match on TV.
Don’t let your skin be alive with compassion.
Don’t feel sick in the bones
for all the horror in the world.

Let your indifference be museum quality.
Mona Lisa with a bottle of gin
and a party dress on.
Let your own selfishness uproot your veins.
Parade down the street and cheer yourself on,
while a homeless man begs for money or change.

This is how you do it. You have no time
for extreme emotions. No truths. No news.
Drink your tea, and steep yourself
into a stupor.

Sleep for years without a map.
Waste your life drooling and snoring.
The planet will spin on.
Who needs to feel the sun, the rain?
Dream toward less.

You can wake up when you’re dead.
Just don’t expect anybody
to look for you in the dark.

Don’t be surprised if your left stunned,
spinning, alone.

This is just one of the ways it could go,
if you take my advice.
I hope you can tell me another.

-Tosha Michelle

An analysis of THE TAMING OF THE SHREW (William Shakespeare) by Dr. Joseph Suglia / Misogyny TAMING OF THE SHREW SHAKESPEARE

Published on by Tosha Michelle7 Comments

A little light Saturday reading from the greatest author in the world. Fondly, the greatest poet in the world. (in a galaxy far, far away, perhaps)

Dr. Joseph Suglia's avatarSelected Squibs, Scrips, and Essays by Joseph Suglia

An analysis of THE TAMING OF THE SHREW (William Shakespeare) by Dr. Joseph Suglia

“Happy Birthday, Mr. President! / Happy Birthday to you!” — Marilyn Monroe, 19 May 1962

With all of the graciousness of a Wall Street businessman offering a homeless man a wine bottle bubbling with urine, a Noble Lord orchestrates a play for the amusement of a drunkard and wastrel named Christopher Sly, who is deceived into believing that he is a noble lord himself. This meta-narrative, called the “Induction,” does not exactly frame the play that we are watching or reading, since the meta-narrative only reappears briefly in the first scene of the first act and does not resurface after the play is over. (It should be remarked parenthetically that Christopher Sly is pushed above his social station, in the same way the servant Traino will be pushed above his social station when he impersonates his…

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A Life-Blue

Published on by Tosha Michelle93 Comments

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I translate myself in poetry,
often getting lost
in the fog of my mind.
Always looking for reason
in my narrative arc.
Here I roar and rage
all I want.

My words often drip
with disdain, despair.
The story loosely based
on my life.

Some truths are
too sacred to share.
Some truths belong
solely to me.

I try to decipher
what I’m really after.
Notebooks of fire,
letters stumbling around.
The margins full
of heart lines,
trying to capture
the red hours.

My pen sits up straight
and listens to the
commands of my interior
world

Language spills out simply,
but with fervor.
I create something
that is mine.
Fangled trees and damaged grass.
My cameo of grit and grace.
I give you my light, my dark,
my counter winds.
The oracles of desire.

I give then to you
before they burn away.
before they become a valediction.

My gilded fragments
of a life in blue,
suffused with question marks.

-Tosha Michelle

The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award

Published on by Tosha Michelle70 Comments

sisterhood-award

My thanks to the lovely and talented Geetha B for this nomination. Please check out her exquisite poetry at:

https://geethaprodhom.wordpress.com/

The Rules

Say “Thank You” to the person who nominated you & link their blog to your post.
Answer the 10 questions given to you.
Pass the award on to 7 other bloggers and let them know they have been nominated.
Include the Award Badge in your post.

The Answers. (drum roll, please)

What made you want to start your blog?
– My friend Niles held a gun to my head and made me. No, really, he was always going on about how wonderful WordPress was. I finally decided to see what all the Niles buzz was about. I have to say, I am extremely grateful that he directed me here. The blogging community is so supportive. This is my favorite place to be on-line. People are so kind. It’s such a drama free environment

2. What have you wanted to do on your blog but haven’t yet? Why not?
– win a Nobel Peace Prize:) Honestly, I can’t think of anything. Perhaps, posting nude photos. I kid!!!!

3. Name one item on your bucket list, or more if you like?
– I would love to meet Jon Stewart. I’m a tad obsessed with him and James Purefoy.  It’s totally innocent. I just want Jon to feed me grapes while Purefoy (with his lovely British accent) recites Shakespeare.

I would also like to get my MFA in creative writing.  I already have one Masters degree, what’s one more? Oh, only a few thousands of dollars more in student loan debt. Meh.

4. What is your biggest fear
-the loss of my children. I never want to outlive them.

5. What is your best moment in life?
– the birth of my two daughters.

6. With New Years fast approaching, do you make resolutions? If so, name one. If not, why don’t you like to make them?
– I don’t. I think you should resolve to be better everyday

7. If you could host a challenge on your blog, what kind would it be?
– one to see who could pay off my student loans the fastest. 😉

8. What was the name of your first pet? What do you remember the most about them?
– it was a cat named Squirrel. In hindsight, kind of a silly name for a feline. I remember as a five year old, I thought it would be neat to see if he could swing. He couldn’t, but he was a superb clawer.

9. Did you ever go to a high school reunion? Was it fun or not?
– I went to my tenth. It was fun. I was such a nerd in high school. People were shocked by how much I had changed. Note, I’m still a nerd, I just dress better.

10. Do you have a pet peeve?
-so many but the main one- rude people. Manners matters. Kindness matters. Validation matters. It take so little to say thank you, you’re welcome, please, etc.

Now for the hard part.
The nominees
There are so many amazing women here. It’s hard to pick only a few. I love you all!

1. Stephanie from http://boldblindbeauty.com/
She’s truly an inspiration.
2. Meg from http://megdekorne.com/ an absolute delight.
3. Sarah from https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/ She writes beautifully
4. L. T. Garvin from https://broussardlana.wordpress.com/ Author and word goddess
5. Sanghamitra from https://sanghamitrachakrabarty.wordpress.com/ Poet and just a lovely human being.
6. Rachel from https://findingrachelsway.wordpress.com/ Her writing is so raw and real.
7. Cooper Cranes https://coppercranes.wordpress.com/ One of my favorite poets on WordPress.

Questions for Nominees

What made you want to start your blog?
2. What have you wanted to do on your blog but haven’t yet? Why not?
3. Name one item on your bucket list, or more if you like?
4. What is your biggest fear?
5. What is your best moment in life?
6. With New Years fast approaching, do you make resolutions? If so, name one. If not, why don’t you like to make them?
7. If you could host a challenge on your blog, what kind would it be?
8. What was the name of your first pet? What do you remember the most about them?
9. Did you ever go to a high school reunion? Was it fun or not?
10. Do you have a pet peeve?

You Know Who You Are

Published on by Tosha Michelle93 Comments

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I thought I’d post something lighthearted for a change. Don’t get use to it. 🙂

You Know Who You Are.
by Tosha Michelle

You who carry sunshine in
your hair, the sky in your hands,
and blueberry pie in your eyes

You who knows all the words
to every Chet Baker song.

Why don’t you come by my record shop?
I’ll teach you the percussive du wop

Come unearth my city plot.
Right my upside down heart
with the lilt of your melodic
voice.

Stain my soul with your graceful hands.

Sing me your red velvet tune
with not one note of sorrow.

Scrawl on my tongue
your heart song.
I’ll sing along.

Make music to a woman
not so young, but not yet old.
My mind a score of hunger.
Patterns of passion across
my face.

Don’t be afraid to improvise
summer nights composed of
bodies and sway.
Wingtip and rosehip.
We’ll create our
own tune.

The tenor sax takes the lead.
It sounds like desire,
like it won’t ever stop.

Let’s crack the night with needle and groove.
Two lovers infusing the dark with rhythm and spark.

This Year’s Death

Published on by Tosha Michelle32 Comments

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The year’s death is approaching
and my soul is in migration.

The breath of frost lingers
longer with each passing winter.

I sit looking out at the night,
coming down like calendar
pages falling to the floor.

The moon looks like a clock.
The wind whispers “tick tock”

The ghosts of 2015 stumble around in my backyard.

Unfulfilled dreams appear like
oracles at my front door.

I measure my loses.
I count my gains.
I write my life in blue.

Praying for the luminous dawn
of fresh beginning.

Hope diamonds the sky.
I long to dance with starlight
in a tango I’ve never danced

Hipswaying my way across
the galaxy.

Peeling off the last twelve months
like sheets.

The flakes of auld lang syne.
no longer glazing my bowl.

The skeletons of the past
under my feet.

Knowing biography is not fate.
There’s still time for revisions.

My heart quicken by the sun.
My soul renewed.

Bathe in the bright light
of a new year

-Tosha Michelle

I Love the Broken Ones

Published on by Tosha Michelle52 Comments

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Because I am scarred .
I find comfort in the broken ones
The flowers out of season.
The dark mornings.
The delinquent library books.
The residue that slips through.

The ones not half full but fully
shattered. The ones scarred by
bramble.

I fall toward them with open arms .

For those who are lonely, those
wandering city streets, lost.

I pack kindness in a carry on with
imperfections. The bag so full
it’s spilling over.

The challenge of life, making everything fit.

My back aches for all I tote. There
are exits all around me. The gift shop is giving away apathy.

But I’ve purchase humanity’s ticket and I’m not going back.

Realizing life is more than chiffon pie and summer afternoons.

Knowing it isn’t the sky that matters but how we fly through it.

Navigating with a fractured flight map of scars,
counter winds and all.

Compassion our wings
The destination, love.

-Tosha Michelle