Niles, this one’s for you. xx
Tag: poetry
Sage
Tonight I surrender everything
I have left undone to the wind
broken promises, letters I wrote,
but never sent, almost loves,
lost loves, regret. No questions.
Why or how no longer matter
They’ve been used up by yesterday.
Some just hallucinations
along my misguided way.
I’ve lingered too long in bramble
My skin marred by briars
Looking to find my way out
by the light of others eyes.
Hoping someone would decipher
the hidden shapes of my soul.
Alone with the begotten shadows,
iilluminated by the moon
I find clarity. The answer in release..
In letting go, I become lighter
Besotted with the fever of liberation.
A lomg time gone now
I find myself.
I am free.
-Tosha Michelle
Misguided Ghosts
Sometimes everything is rhetorical
Everything is monochrome
My limbs wracked with rain
I tread gingerly.
I make promises I may not keep
Go on with my soltuide,
my soliloquy.
I’m almost out of words.
Knowing you cannot grasp
what you cannot hold
Things vanish all the time
And what is only left of me, is
me only.
-Tosha Michelle
Upon Viewing The World
We’re all in the dark
and it’s not early
Maybe not too late
We sleep in narrow beds
in rooms shimmering
and burning from a sickhearted
moon.
The stars reflect a defective hue.
We long for a powerful eclipse
or for a comet to appear.
Angels feet on fire.
Thinking our world is woven
by the fragile string of fate.
We waste the moonlight.
Gazing at static air.
-Tosha Michelle
Matter
Sometimes we have to
carry what we can and
discard the rest. I’ve
been talking inventory
of my life, trying to
decide what to leave
in, what to leave out.
My back sore from
the weighted
backpack of other
people’s burden I
lug around. I’m
cutting insanity from
my life with no written
apology. I’m burning
bridges so drama
can’t follow me home.
There are people I can’t
live without. People who
litter their bedroom’s floor
with clothes and always
forget where they put
their keys.
I do my best to give them
my time. I give them my right
not what’s left.
Tonight I say a prayer to
the God of humanity, to
give me people I can
love and dispense hope
to.
and the courage not to
wish away my plea.
Tosha Michelle
The Answer
My heart is hungry
for what I didn’t know before
the light. The air.
The tree branches sway to
ghosts on the wind.
The grass, a graveyard of regret.
I walk away, knowing what comes after
can only be better.
Next time, I’ll find the one
who’s been looking for me.
The one who’s eyes search
the sky.
I won’t settle for less
than what I hope for.
I’ve shed claws and sprouted
wings. The moon nods its
approval. The crickets sing
a song of respect.
If you are not looking for me,
I don’t want to be found.
I’d rather stay in my shell
until my own resolve cracks
it open.
Free. I’ll listen to the spirits
of Dante and Beatrice,
and await the smoke signal
of someone who could matter.
Whether it’s the earth or me
who answers, depends on
the flame and the charred
particles of the dust of my heart.
-Tosha Michelle
Flowers in Bloom
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
Begin Again
Upon Stealing a Kitkat
You’ve taught me how far
I can go toward myself.
No need to run from who
I am.
That’s how it is with us.
Windblown fragments,
two are we.
We live in a shareable place
our little patch of green.
where I’d rather hear you
than all.
We converse fluently in
a language only we understand.
Your charm never lies in the
way wedding songs and
love sometimes do.
In my head you’ve cut a groove,
leaving your initials there
Absolute. Right. Permanent.
They tell a story even when
my mind shifts and happenstance
grabs the pen.
The darkest ink is not dark enough
to eradicate the thought of you.
Our kinship, a sonnet to pathless
woods, always ready to explore.
We reach for a state of grace,
Knowing life can only get worse, but
better too.
Tosha Michelle
Variations
I call him eccentric
He thinks it’s a reprimand
He doesn’t realize
His exquisite eccentricities
reveal his unique inner form.
like Gould last recording of
the Goldberg Varations
His illuminated soul
seemingly always in motion.
I read religiously his light.
Text etched with acid.
but cut with gentle sweetness
The light only growing brighter.
He coaxes me out of my
shadow box.
I could take refuge in his uniqueness
The magic of his mind, linger there
in the smudge of the stars.
Let him read the face of my spirit,
my wildest wishes, the lure
of eccentric things
Framed by endless strings of grace.
A concerto of serenity. defined
composition, melodic hope.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 