“Many times I tried to tell you
Many times I cried alone
Always I’m surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone
Don’t want to leave you really
I’ve invested too much time to give you up that easy
To the doubts that complicate your mind
We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder
We belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen under
Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better
We belong, we belong, we belong together”
Tag: art
Poetry
It feels safe to reside inside poetry. It’s my escape route.
Real and imagined.
Here I can live multiple lives
My feelings are diverse, if I tire of one emotion, there’s always another close as the ink on my hand.
Poetry holds my heart, and understands like water, I’m perpetually in transition. My words take on many forms. Some are steeped in reality. Others, solely fantasy, perhaps, live perceived in a parallel universe.
My soul never grows static in verse. My poet self, helps me gain confidence to live life as my real self, to have the courage to balance monotony and forgive the world its drudgery.
-Tosha Michelle
Here I Go
Hello lovely ones. Just a few random thoughts from a chaotic mind. Firstly, I’d like to say that, I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to read and follow this blog. It means the world to me. I’ve connected with some really wonderful and talented folks. I’m grateful for those connections and I know that some of those friendships will carry-on for many years to come. Having said that, I will be cutting back on the amount of time I spend here. Life has taken on a very busy tone of late. I will still be posting but the frequencies of my posts will be more sporadic and sparse. My goal is to at least post once a week.
Secondly, I don’t want to get political but I will say that now more than ever, I am praying for our country.. It should be noted, I’m not even a particularly religious person. It is my hope that love and tolerance will always win out of over hate and bigotry. it’s up to us to hold our leaders to a higher standard and demand that they govern with dignity, integrity and compassion.
Steps off soap box and looks for cake. Hands you a piece.
All besr,
T.
Some Years
Some years we peel
open like a fruit.
This year an orange.
We devour the nectar
or, feeling badly for the
naked fruit, we handle
it with care.
Other years are fruitless.
We search through our
refrigerators until we find
a carton of large white.
Cracking the years open
like an egg, until the yolk
break, running through our
fingers and onto time.
-Tosha Michelle
The Ground’s Lament
The ground frozen,
giving winter it’s shoulder
not impressed with the cold
or its icy sword and brass
knuckles. It’s nothing the
ground hasn’t seen before.
Soon enough a warm rain
will come, and winter will
have no choice but to retreat.
Let the rain come and cover up
yards, tree trunks
Let the rivers overthrow bridges
We’ll make boats out of
billboards and give everyone
a ride.
The ground shrugs winter or
rain. It knows, when it all ends,
there’ll be nothing left but dust
No place to gather oxygen.
Soon enough there will be
nowhere to rest.
-Tosha Michelle
Water Under The Bridge
Hello lovely people. I haven’t been writing as much recently but hope to get back in a routine soon. In the meantime, here’s Adele.
Don’t Dream It’s Over
Don’t Dream It’s Over
Crowded House
There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you’ll never see the end of the road
While you’re traveling with me
Hey now, hey now
Don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won’t win
Finding Bliss in The Abyss
Not even the sun saw me retreat.
I swallow my sadness whole.
You may ask what is it good for?
Where can it take me?
I need its darkness to find
the light, to show me the
way toward creativity
I draw blood from its
silhouette, and write
among its shadows.
I walk through purgatory
to find words.
A delicate concoction of arsenic
and ink mark my descent.
-Tosha Michelle
Abstract art by me.
Fields of Gold
My cover of “Fields of Gold”
https://m.soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/fields-of-gold-vocals-and-guitar
Just Stop
I want to reside inside the voice
of a Tibetan monk
And be lulled to sleep by the silence.
Instead the irritating cadence
of political discourse
Uncivil and unholy
The hills alive with the sound
of madness.
The breeze tinged with malice
even the birds
feel forsaken. Aimlessly looking
for just one branch
of grace. The tree limbs breaking
under the weight of
an uncertain future.
We beseech the earth for guidance.
Warring with hot air.
Hoping the world will revolve anew.
The axis and rhetoric
spin on.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 