Felines, Paul Hollywood, and Turning on the Red Light.

Hello y’all. Please scroll down and check out a cat in need of a home. As for the rest, just my latest YouTube nonsense. In the first video, Tucker takes on a starring role as I ponder Paul Hollywood’s midlife crisis. Mad props to our dear friends Jake and his lovely wife Ariana for getting us into The Great British Bake-off and all things Hollywood. I’d heard of the show but just never got around to watching it until now. We’re currently on the 3rd season and I feel inspired to baaaaakkke.

In the second video, I talk about the advantages of red light therapy for the skin and pain. Nothing earth shattering or life transforming in either video, unless you count the appearance of the greatest feline in the world.

Speaking of felines, we have another stray cat coming around that I’ve been feeding. I’d love to take him in, but we already have 3 cats that aren’t fond of their own kind. One who’s immune system is compromised from Feline HIV, one who is older and set in his ways and another who is a wild child to the core.

Anyway, a neighbor and yours truly are trying to find the little guy a home. If you know of anyone in North or South Carolina in need of some serious cuteness, this cat has it in spades. It’s the sweetest thing and looks no more than a year old if that.

You Move Me

Hold still, time. Stop moving. 
Yet, still you run on, 
leaving us with no recourse, 
but to move with you. 
We sometimes fail to realize
that although we don’t set
the pace, we still control
the rhythm.
I choose to dance with 
you in a meaningful tango,
where every step 
counts, and the sweet 
luxury of the hours
are revered.
Listening to every jazz 
note, even the ones that 
sound blue, to enjoy every 
second of a life ongoing,
to revel in the sweetest
of air, the beauty of
the Earth.
And to be glad for each 
moment that has gone 
before, and each moment 
still to be. Moments seen, 
heard, touched, and lived
by me.
-Tosha Michelle
Photo above by your truly.
Also, two more things, here’s our latest vehicle purchase and Infiniti. Really like it.

Lastly, putting some of my covers of various songs on YouTube. Here’s one of my favorites.

Wild Horses Couldn’t Drag Me Away

We really enjoyed our time in the Outer Banks from the charming historic inn, to seeing where the Wright brothers took their first flight, to touring lighthouses, and riding along the beach in a hummer in search of wild horses… just a really wonderful getaway. Here’s a photo journal of sorts.

What’s Going On?

Hey y’all. What’s up? Hope life is treating you well. Just a heads up, I’m thinking of starting a true crime podcast that will focus on missing persons cases. I’ll probably post then on my YouTube account. If you liked to watch, I’ll post the link below.  Life is fairly busy with work and family, so we’ll see if the podcast comes to fruition. It’s important to me to always strive to make a difference no matter what I do. Life becomes so much richer when we focus on others. I suppose that’s why I’ve always gravitated toward the helping professions and the nonprofit sector.
In other news, off to the Outer Banks for vacation. It should be fun. I hope to see a few wild horses and some beautiful coastal scenery. Photos to follow. Right now, my BH has made us breakfast. It’s become a new Sunday tradition. He has stepped up his game. I appreciate the effort and the bacon. Ha! Good stuff. Happy Sunday, y’all. I haven’t stopped writing, a new poetry book is in the work. It’s the one I mentioned months back. I’m writing it with my beautiful friend Misty. It’s a collaborative effort. I’ve also been approached by a couple of journals. I just need to find the time to submit. Thanks for always being here. I love this community. 
Here’s the link to my YouTube 

And We Write

Poetry is all about perception.
It’s what we perceive, not what
we see.

It’s all in the rhythm.
The arrangement of the poetic
notes.

It’s about loosening those
syllables until they roll off our pens
in a dance of self.

We release our whimper and watch
it turn into a roar on paper

We write for preservation.
We write to empty the emptiness.
We write like we eat, to live

We spend our nights out on a limb                                                      so we can fall into the melody of our craft

Our souls writing on.                                                                            Finding salvation in verse

-Tosha Michelle

The Remains 

image

The ones I love,
and have been
blessed to keep,
are sleeping
as night’s low
pitch hums slowly
fades.

I walk along the lake
with only the birds
to keep me company.
The clouds sticky,
but devoid
of cotton candy,
offer no sweetness.
I move through stony colors,
a stillness in my
soul.

The water churns,
dark froth travels
in its wake.
I cry for some
inexplicable reason.

Through my tears,
I stare out into
the silence,
and think of those
who make me the happiest.
And then I wonder
about those
who have come
and gone.
The ones I have lost,
lost loves, lost friends,
a litany of history.

Memories reclaim
me for a moment.
Has life carried
them where they
want to be?
Does the dusty world
ever taunt them, too?
Do they ever
wonder why time
offers no explanation
for grief and regret?
Do they ever weep
because whatever
we’re made of,
we can never alter
the ticking clock’s
hands.

I hope that there’s
a table set somewhere
for them, and morning kisses
to greet them.

The past opens quickly,
but recedes just as
fast.

I pick a dying
wild flower from its
sidewalk home,
just as a boat
heads off into the gray,
brushed stroke
of the mist.
A lone crow
plummets toward it,
like granite.
The first faint orange
spot appears in the
sky.

Lifting my chin to the sun,
to brightness.
I discard the unbreathable,
dizzy smell of nostalgia.

I bathe in the now,
and wash my soul
in today’s syllables

Thankful for what was,
but even more grateful
for those that remain 
I know without them,
the air would taste
like nothingness.

Standing on the bridge
in the space between
yesterday and today.
I walk back toward
the scent of nectar,
of happiness
Eating up the sunshine
while I still can.

-Tosha Michelle

Soul Keepers 


There are those people
who don’t need to look at you
to really see you.
They see you as you are.
Your lesser than moments
The sadness that is opulent
in you.

They’ll love you whether you’re
noteless or the feature story
written in the best of you,
whether your feet are sinking
in quicksand, or lost among dandelions
and slippery grass.

They’ll love your voice when it
deepens with life’s desire
or breaks with the frost of despair.
These are the ones who will
revive you when you’re barely alive.
When the sky loses it’s luster,
they’ll eat the clouds for you.

They’ll never be just a drifting
wind. or a splintering shadow,
a stray unimpressed with your
offering wandering off.
These people are your constants,
leaves that don’t flinch in the bitter air.
Forever entwined in your heart.
Immovable, no matter how much the branches
of your soul may shutter.

There are those people who
don’t need to look at you to
really see you.
They see you in the darkest
ravine or the midday sunlight of the pines.
These people are the backdrop
of your life, the stars who crown
you on your long walk home.
These are those you
sing the song of yourself too.
The ones who hear the potential
in every note.
And remind you of the words
when you forget how the
melody goes.

-Tosha Michelle 

And silliness and no makeup ensued.


And this song goes out to my cat of course. 😜💕

Paradoxically is Such a Fine Word.

image

I’ve been besotted with chocolate.

I’ve been confused
by broccoli.

I’ve been stung by hornets,
but still I stirred the nest.

I’ve tripped over my mangled
spirit walking the narrow way.

I’ve prayed with fervor.
I’ve sinned with grace.

I’ve courted darkness.
I’ve loved the light.

I’ve questioned the sun.
Its answers reflected back
in the hourglass.

I’ve remembered to thank the academy of monotony:
laundry, vacuuming, dusting.

I’ve had it all: the sky, the finicky moon, the unfolded map.

I’ve got lost in a roundabout,
trying to navigate my mind.

I’ve lived well in unsettled hues.

I’ve been Saturday, Sunday,
and Monday.

I’ve tasted ash, eaten roses,
demanded a life of flames.

I’ve been a lunatic and lover.

I’ve been the Patron Saint
offering my protection.

I’ve been Judas,
freely spending the silver.

I’ve nearly drowned in the past’s harsh syllables.

I’ve held a grudge.
I’ve forgiven.

I’ve found a second soul.
I transcribe it in chaos and peace.

My heart circumventing the paradox.

I’ve learned how to rearrange the letters of myself in a sentence that fits.

Casting away yesterday’s syntax.

Coming unmoored.

I move toward clarity’s
swinging door as fast as
a sip through a straw.

I make my getaway.

The quarrel with myself over.
I stand at attention,
dust free.

I’ve survived.

-Tosha Michelle