When I was a child
how I love to dress
my face in a book.
Entering worlds I’ve
I’d hide behind the cover.
discovering secret gardens,
children in boxcars, and
little women decked out
On summer nights when
I could be coaxed out of
the books I loved.
My brother and I would
chase fireflies and play
Mother May I under
the backyard lights.
We were safe then under
the stars and constellations.
These were the years of
innocence and freedom
As a child you don’t notice
things like the moon losing
itself to the sky, or the cold
touch of the air.
As an adult you’re more apt
to notice the bee, the sting
the thorn, the horsewhip
Yet there’s still the beauty
of stories in a book and
nature’s sweet allure .
Sitting on a porch swing
the wind blowing hazily
Losing yourself in words
The call of distant shores,
The lure of courtships and
rosehip. In these times the
world brightens. The mind
alive with a gentle pitch
No need to rush or fuss
The sun refuses to faltered
Your soul becomes supernatural
Life’s frailties for a moment abated .
Hello lovelies. It’s a Salinger kind of day. Last night I rewatched a fairly good documentary that’s been out for more than a minute on the famed author. I’ve always been a little jealous of Salinger’s hermit lifestyle and his talent for prose and oddness. He was an enigma to be sure.
In the documentary, aptly titled Salinger filmmaker Shane Salerno examines the life and works of this strangely beautiful man. The film is compelling and inspiring. There’s also never before seen footage of Salinger. Like most of us he had his flaws and quirks. The documentary presents these complexity in a fair way. I’m not going to do a full review, as I’m writing a lot for my new job, but if you haven’t seen it, it’s definitely worth a gander. I’ve also starting rereading his short stories RAISE HIGH THE ROOFBEAMS, CARPENTERS.
In honor of Salinger. I give you a few quotes, one of my infamous list and a tune. There’s always a tune!
“Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.”
“I’m sick of just liking people. I wish to God I could meet somebody I could respect.”
“People are always ruining things for you.”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe her as strictly beautiful. She knocked me out, though.”
Singing for any reason
This is Us
being treated like
you never mattered by
people who swore they would
never hurt you.
Waiting on anything
What are some of your likes and dislikes? Which category would you place Salinger? How about me? 😜
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“?
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I want to go deep into the book of your soul. Show me truth even if the pages resists. Tell me your heart so I can understand your part. I don’t want to wade through a flimsy plot. I want a character-driven tale with meaningful dialogue. One I can read tenderly; one that makes me think. I want to feel your words resonating inside of me, to take them to a deep place, a place that honors the connection flowing between us, where a whole orchard of new chapters can grow.
Listen to Use Somebody Kings Of Leon Cover (Take 2) by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud
A lovely review of my first book of poetry. I’m so unworthy but deeply moved by Tracy’s kindness. My poetry at the time was still evolving. Please check out Tracy’s blog NGE and follow.
Solitude is both a blessing and a curse for a poet. With the Muse often the only companion, a poet is forced to confront those overwhelming emotions prowling around the brain. While there may be some trepidation dealing with these emotions, such honesty can be insightful and refreshing. To remove the bandages covering one’s emotional scars is the first step towards healing.
Tosha Michelle is an emotionally accessible poet. Her verse puts a mirror up against the soul. In her writing, we see the joy, the sorrow, the love, the loss, the hope.
Confessions of A Reformed Southern Belle: A Poet’s Reflection of Love, Lost and Renewal, is a stellar poetic gem. The book provides rhythmic perfection, imagery as well the journey towards one’s roots with the comfort that nostalgia offers.
She shows us the beautiful melancholy of lovers whose destinies might take different paths but whose hearts…
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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.