Tag: photography

An Introvert Goes to a Party.

Published on by Tosha Michelle87 Comments

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Tonight, I’d rather be home
getting lost in antique spines.
Craving the casual, yoga pants
and T-shirt. .Ditching this party
and dress. I can’t relate to
razzle dazzle, hoity toity
The desire for loud. My
symphony has always
been quiet.

These people
are a splinter in my isolated
hope chest for one. They
are a complex Allegory of
celebratory nothingness
Outward they glimmer
Inward, just a flicker.

I’m my own mistress of
distraction, mapping out
a poem in my head,
as some fool
in a too tight corset
tells me stories
about her latest boyfriend
who has a love for the
voluptuous and shallow.
The latter is just
an assumption on my
part.

As the clock ticks
inside my head,
sounding more
like bedtime, bedtime,
than tick tock. I note
the exit, I must reach
it before I’m tempted
to try hemlock.

I escape into wallpaper
border and sit down by
a napping cat. I stencil
my name on a gravestone
of banality and toss my
party dress off a bridge

I dissolve into particles
of light and reemerge in
bathwater of blessed
tranquility. I find kismet
with my bath mate, the
one I love-Solitude

We celebrate lavender and
quiet things. Afterwards,
I put on a night gown
of silence and
climb under a blue
comforter, under the
bluest of moon.
Finding serenity
in the stillness

-Tosha Michelle

Framing the Scene 

Published on by Tosha Michelle54 Comments

You’re always fluttering around.

I watch you, scared you might fall.

I want to lead you to the right song, to the right flowerbed.

Instead I spin in the air. My form lost among the pines. 

The light I had to lead us home, long since gone.

Should we follow the glow of the moon?

Sing to the wind?  Give it a few days to answer. 

Perhaps I should leave my heart in a wicker basket.

Cover myself in morning dew.

Abandon the very thought of you.
-Tosha Michelle 

Hands of Gold

Published on by Tosha Michelle39 Comments

Spring whispers when you are near.

Breathe your name into my ear.

Tell me your stories,

 especially the ones

written on ancient tapestry.

Give me flower seeds I can plant.

I’ve stumbled through the bramble 

to find you.

I was not seeking this knotty retreat,

but look how my leaves

have taken to the light.

Carry me to the highest treetop.

Fly with me on the wind. 

Watch  over me when my mind

plays peekaboo with the dark.

When  I can’t locate myself on any map,

and I’m lost a land wishing to destroy me.

Give me the gold of your heart.

The stream of your resolve.

The pixie dust of your hands.

For me, at least, your magic is enough. 

-Tosha Michelle


And So It Goes

Published on by Tosha Michelle39 Comments

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And this is why my eyes are closed
It’s just as well for all I’ve seen
And so it goes and so it goes
And you’re the only one who knows

 

 

 

https://soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/so-it-goes-billy-joel-cover

 

 

Again and Again

Published on by Tosha Michelle27 Comments

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I know I mention this guy a lot and honestly, it’s because I like him so much more than the rest of you. I’m kidding. I adore you all but I am super fond of this lovely Brit. You will be too. Check out his poem and please encourage him to write more. Oh and follow him. He’s sure to return the favor

Happy Friday. God save the Queen and us all xx

https://alexraphael.wordpress.com/2013/12/10/the-hand-of-nature/

What Would Keats Do?

Published on by Tosha Michelle96 Comments

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Beautiful, meaningful poetry
is always possible.
Think of Shakespeare
and his sonnets.
Frost and his road
less traveled.

The poem I’m writing now
may be beautiful
and full of meaning.
It may not be.

Perhaps, it’s too early to tell.
Should I keep going?
What if I’m trying to hard
to create art?
The verses will show the pressure.

I want my poetry
to remind the reader
of themselves,
not so much the poet.
I want them to listen alone
with their own minds and hearts.

Maybe the secret
to beautiful poetry
full of depth
is not caring.
Perhaps, when I leave
poetry behind, abandon words
and have no desire to write,
that’s where great writing
will find me.

As I sit reading Anne Sexton,
I’ll remember what I once
would have sacrificed
to create art that matters.
And I’ll pick up my pen and paper
and write the poetry I dreamed of
as though I was another poet,
and as if i were the poet,
I may never be again.

-Tosha Michelle

Hands Over Your Eyes

Published on by Tosha Michelle65 Comments

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Close your eyes.
Cover your ears.
We’ll take a train
away from here.

Somewhere greener
Anywhere warmer.

Someplace just beyond
our reach but we’ll
reach it anyhow

Leaving the delirium
of the mundane behind.

We’ll hold court in a
seaside town.

And rinse our glasses
in sugar.

Learning the music
our hearts make when
blessed with a peaceful
beat, the sound of us.

We’ll lean into each other
and come like we
never have.

Your mouth all over me.
I’ll sing you to the edge.

Your gaze only on me
as we will dance into
new revelations, and
curl like a comma
into hopeful beginnings

-Tosha Michelle

Artwork by me.

My cover of ‘Realize” for Niles, one of my best friends. Follow his blog at http://www.jamesdennard.com
He’s lovely and likes the ladies. 😃

 

 

Begin Again

Published on by Tosha Michelle58 Comments

20130703-104055“And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ’cause he never did
I’ve been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again”

Crafting

Published on by Tosha Michelle59 Comments

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The only light worth having
is the light you have to work for.
I try and find it in my craft.
But sometimes I’m angry with
words- the pen- the paper- the
storm scape inside my head.
Yet I write best in restless hues.
Red with an undercoat of black.
I grasp for understanding.
I look but can’t see.
Clarity is a lie told by the
mentally sane. I sit at my desk
a labyrinth of doubt, trying to find
the middle ground between dark and
a glimmer of unfurling light.
Knowing joy is unsustainable
but knowing what I do not know.

-Tosha Michelle

For You

Published on by Tosha Michelle56 Comments

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For you, I would paint
the undercoat of grey
a cheery yellow.
We would live well
in a settled blue,
touched by fiery red.

I would give you words
to eat, starting from
scratch. Syllables that
teach us how to be happy,
how to negotiate with
dark clouds.

For you, I would gloss
the vernacular of porn
stars, and crack the night
open with anatomy,
and backseat geography.
Unbuttoned periwinkle
shirt, pants flying off.

I’d be the force of nature
you saw God in.
a piece of light that turns
to a flame.

I’d take you where we
could water the moon.
Two celestial wonders
finding a new constellation.
Alive and quivering in
the unknown.

For you, I would offer
my fractured soul and
a flight map of scars
I’d give you my outlaw
truths, the real story,
and a fresh love
devoid of pipe smoke.

I would give you days
made entirely of lilacs
and grapes.

Together we would relearn
how to claim the drumbeat
and rise like a dove,
just winging it.

-Tosha Michelle

My cover of “Falling Slowly” One of my favorite songs.