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.

The Calling 


Aware of the weaving of
of days into years. I want
to live a justified life, one
where human is always
linked to rights, where I
don’t just notice suffering
but strive to change it
I want to live a life
of meaning not teether
to logins, tweets, and likes
Before the sun dips below
the shades, I want to be
covered in dust where
the ash falls, to not just
look to the sky for answers,
but to mind the
Earth, to stoke the fire
of change, to be a lexicon
of compassion while there
is still time to change the hour.

Tosha Michelle

On a sad note.

Luke Perry, my young heart is broken. You left us way too soom, I can only hope to be spoken of as highly when my time comes. You were loved by many and according to those who knew you, were a true gentleman and the kindest of souls. The outpouring of love is a testament to the goodness of your being. Sad to see you go. This world needs all the people like you we can get.

Forever the coolest. Rest easy, sir. 

Life’s Afternoons

Life’s afternoons pass quickly
The buzz. The bark. The lilies.
Take notices of these things.
Eat the pear. Find meaning in the sea, the clouds, the elms.
Listen to the song of the birds,
the solitaires, the chamber music of the air.
Know sometimes the sky will
darken, but eventually the overcast grey will lighten.

Take the long way home.
Crown yourself with constellations.
Lounge under the grand oak.
Don’t be afraid to walk toward
the cliff’s edge.
If you fall. Find the lesson in
a halo broken.

Bend close to the curves of ears of those you love, tell them how much you care. If words dissolve on your tongue,
give them the warmth of your arms instead.

Believe in the call notes of
your heart. Store up the
soul’s rubies and sapphires.
Drink up all the moonlight
you can.
Be more than just a stray wind.
While you’re alive, live
have faith in the possibilities,
the thorns, the rosehip, and
the ever changing pitch of
afternoons well spent.

-Tosha Michelle

Update and A Poem

Pretty in pink.


Eye surgery went well.  I’m still in some pain, and finding it hard to open my left eye. This will pass, tons of brushing and redness. I’m definitely in grumpy patient mode, but thrilled to have it behind me. I’m looking you in the eyes with my head up, shoulders back and giving you my best Grace Kelly pose. Okay, well, I will be in a few weeks.  I have a feeling the surgery is going to be life-changing in that I won’t have to be self-conscious any more and always trying to hide my left eye. It’s something that has really hindered my social interactions over the years. Now if my doctor could just give me 2020 vision. Ha! He did say maybe one day. Here’s a poem I wrote during my dark period that I never got around to posting. Hope you enjoy. xoxo


Infinity the only place
where parallel lines meet.
Somewhere between what
was and what is yet to be.
But far away from a place
where recriminations and
the sharp tongue of reality
scuff their toes on promises
unfulfilled and broken.

In this space the sun has no
nemesis, just an early version
of what will be, one they can’t
see. Still believing in the
alignment of stars and light years.
No acknowledgement of how
time can carry weight.
Or how minds can change.
Some soulmates aren’t meant
to be life mates

Soon enough the real plane
intervenes with a mouth full
of truth. Parallel lines aren’t
meant to intersect in any other
place but infinity.
The universe and geometry
reiterate this refrain.

-Tosha Michelle

Such a great tune and lyrics 

Going Ons

Indeed…

Feeling blousey

This and that.

1. My eye corection surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday. Excited but not looking forward to being put to sleep. Wish me luck. The recovery time is pretty short. Glad for that. The surgery will correct the alignment of my left eye and hopefully, improve my peripheral vision. I have full confidence in my doctor. His name is Benjamin Krammer.. I highly recommend him.

2. When I originally started my blog, it was a place to write about life’s little oddities, post book reviews and ny random musings. Recently, I think it has reverted back to that concept with poetry thrown into the mix. The blog at one point had metamorphosis into strictly a poetry spot. There was a time when I wrote constantly. I was going through a tough time and writing was my therapy.

Nowadays, life is more stable and I’m in a healthier state of mind . It’s also a much busier time. I find myself writing less, but the muse is still there. It’s just learning to write from a place of stability . I suppose I could hone in on unresolved hurt feelings, and painful events, but I choose not too. I choose to focus on the positive and all the blessings in my world. 

Everything that has happened to me has placed me where I am suppose to be. I’ve always tried to put love out there, and I feel like karma is acknowledging that. Things are finally going really well after a few years of chaos.. I’m grateful for what was and the growth it has brought me. No regrets. I’m stronger and better for it all. I’m also aware, given how anxious and sentimental I can be that there will still be times of angst and disquieting moments. That is the human condition when one feels things on a deeply emotional level. However, I’m more equipped to handle those setbacks now. I’m living for what is. Turns out what is is pretty lovely.  

3. I also find myself spending much less time on social media. It’s odd given that I used to be such an enthusiast. I really enjoyed posting and connecting with new people. These days I’m just happy to connect with those who already know and love me. Most of my online time is devoted to criminal justice pursuits, as well as less noble causes like Amazon browsing and watching various Youtubers. 

4. We will be traveling to the Outer Banks in April . For those of you who have been, any suggestions on must see attractions? I’m hoping to see some wild horses running along the beach. 

5. Lastly, thanks so much for sticking with me through my many moods and blog stages. WordPress definitely attracts creative and  kind people. I’m happy to interact with you all.

-Tosha

PS. For those of you who are strictly here for the poetry, my friend Misty and I will be releasing a poetry book later this year.
Details coming soon. 💕

PPS. I watched a documentary on Netflix last night called  Tricky Dick and the Man in Black. It chronicled the relationship between Johnny Cash and Richard Nixon. Johnny showed Nixon that he was nobody’s fool. The documentary put me in a Cash state of mind. His cover of “Hurt” gets me every time. 

Notes from the Other Side


Sometimes sorrow turns into
irreversible regret.
We choose to live an icebox
existence.
Wallowing in misfortune’s
frosty glass.
Consorting with memories
Squabbling with dreams.

The poet too has felt life
interrupted, days that vanish
upon awakening.
I’ve known suffering and
the pull of solitary confinement.

Now looking back from a happier
vista. I’m hear to tell you,
the pitch of pain may never
be unheard, but it does gets softer,
fading into a bittersweet refrain.
The past becomes part of
your case history, to be read
by nostalgia’s light on rain
soaked nights.

In time the visible world brightens 
Let it entice you with the woo of
the today and what will be.
Take refuge in the heat of
places uncharted, linger in
the sweet realism of the hour.

Walk toward the future
with unshackled feet.
The misbegotten shadows
behind you now.
Let the smudge of the sun,
and the warmth of a steadfast
hand be your guide.

-Tosha Michelle

Homemade 

Love is not just the property
of physics but the language
of home, a feeling of belonging,
a shareable place. Sometimes a
little patch of green.
Other times an unmade field.

Its touch sharp but malleable,
a labor of commitment and
compromise, that with luck and perseverance can withstand
drought or a sun washed out by rain.

Love is neither a spell or curse
but rather feelings inked by actions.
At times a historical footnote
At other’s an entire memoir.

Often born from the tree of life,
sweet and fruitful
Other times acrid and spoiled
Love’s at its best when brushed
with agape’s stroke
Friendship pierced with eros

This kind of love can be feasted
on for years, Soul and sugar
with a portion of salt.
Imperishable and filling.
A recipe that can be recited
by heart light and remembered
during times the light bends.

-Tosha Michelle

Sometimes Life Is?


Sometimes life is drama
And we get buried in the
angst of it all.
We fear if the darkness
doesn’t lift our eyes will
be permanently sewn shut
like a newborn cat’s.

We sit by a sturdy table
made of walnut , while
the logs on the fire burn
out, contemplating the
fickleness of luck and
human emotions.
Listening to the rain wrack
the roof and windows.

Yes, sometimes life is misery,
but if we can withstand the
bad acting and poorly written
script, Life eventually becomes
maple and sugar again.

The fire burning away
hopeless things,
the repetitive and rhetorical.
Words once heavy become light.

We see our world through open
eyes filled with the enthusiasm
that only small children and
dreamers can understand.

We find solace in the now
and stop questioning what
wasn’t or was. We appreciate
what we have and find
renewed grace in the elements.
Sun or rain it doesn’t matter.
Refuge is found in those who
love the faces of our spirit
and understand the depth
of our souls.

-Tosha Michelle

On an unrelated note if you’re still here:

In his new live performance show, John Cleese wants us to know there is no hope in this dysfunctional world .However he conveys this message in such a glorious and delightful way that in the end, hopelessness looks pretty darn good. On Monday night I was fortunate enough to see Cleese in person. He did not disappoint. During the show he pontificated on the current state of  life and politics. While his performance at times felt like a deeply philosophical Ted Talk, his trademark black humor was still on full display. During the second half of the show Cleese took questions from the audience, a highlight to be sure. 

 I wish the pictures were better but no flash photography.  For those who celebrate, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving..  I’m grateful for you all. 

Sing 

Happy Sunday. Y’all, oh my gosh, “A Star is Born” is amazing. Lady Gaga gives a Judy Garland worthy performance. I could gush all day about it, but this isn’t a movie review blog. However, my cat’s been wanting to get into the WP game and he’s always considered himself a bit of a critic, so….  Although,  I think he’s better suited to be a food critic. 

Anyway, a poem for you. Oh and. Tucker says you really should see “A Star is Born” Honestly, he thought the film was going to be about his birth.  Silly boy 😜💕
Tell me why everything
is rarely enough in a
world that is collapsing.
The sky nothing more
than cornbread crumbs.

Why do we not
notice this?

Tell me how we got lost
in a word of logins, of likes,
of tweets, a web of passwords?
Tell me why people are disposable,
and we are constantly
judging our life
by the lives of others?

When I hear music,
my life shifts.
Layers of overstimulated
brain cells shed
their skin.

Dress me
in your melody.

Let your tune speak
of shattered knees,
barbwire fences
cutting into roads.
Sing me
your pain.

I’ll share my song
with you.

I’ll tell you in notes
both high and low
how I’ve suffered
and survived.
How peace is the
county I want
to live in,
but I sometimes get
stuck in customs instead.

How hard it hurts
to fall, to fall,
but each bruise,
each disappointment is
a testament that
our system is still
functioning and
there are melodies
still left to be sung.

I’ll sit beside you as
you serenade me
and I sing the notes
back to you
as we finally pay
attention to the
sky.

The evening opening
up like a meteor,
a tail of a comet
waves to us as it
touches the sidewalk.
Satellites fall. For the moment,
heaven comes closer,
entranced by our song.

-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