On occasion if I asked
sweetly enough he
would sing to me in
a scale uniquely his own
Baritone and microtonal
And in those moments
I felt i had a part of him
that was solely my own
How he must have loved
being loved
But those cadences held
only fondness for me.
Now I’m trying to relearn
the intervals, to travel
without him among
the thirds and fifths
slowly as they diminish
but what I really want
is to hear those low
notes again.
-Tosha Michelle
That’s a thing righr. In a popish mood. No judgment please 😜
Wide Awake
Katy Perry
I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn’t dive in
Wouldn’t bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
Till I woke up on
On the concrete
Falling from cloud nine
Crashing from the high
I’m letting go tonight
And these are my flaws
My vices.
Impatience, a tongue
sharp as a guillotine.
Caffeine. Chocolate.
Sarcasm on every occasion.
And unquenchable desire
to be loved.
A heart that is an
exhibitionist who
weeps upon
my sleeve
A fear of monochrome
colors, thunder,
the undone,
petty gossip
and letting go.
A hunger to be kissed
often and with fervor.
An awkward shyness
around new people.
A fascination with
the lure of a snowbound
life.
Not being Christian
enough to turn the
other cheek or Zen
enough to just be still.
The knowledge that my
life is unimportant
in a world with a noose
around its neck but
writing about it
anyway.
I often prefer the company
of books and my cat to
other human beings.
I live nside a cluttered
mind in a pristine house.
And not listening closely
to my Granny and her
treasury of wise words
Most which I have
forgotten, but
I do recall her saying
you must learn
to take what will
be with grace,
that our flaws
bind us
to humanity,
and to never forget
even broken crushed
flowers are beautiful
More fragrant for
their fall.
The infallible blossom
of dtrength and the will
to go
-Tosha Michelle
There’s a someone I’m longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who’ll watch over me.
My cover of one of my all time favorite songs xx
wishing everyone only the best in 2017.
“Maybe someday,
You’ll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me,
Saying, I’ll be home for next year, darling.
I’ll be home for next year.
And maybe sometime,
In a long time,
You’ll remember
What I had said there.
I said, I’ll be home for next year, darling,
I’ll be home for next year.”
My lovely Canadian friend Paul was gracious enough to write a letter for me. If you aren’t following this very talented and funny guy, you are missing out on some really thought-provoking and hilarious posts. His blog has it all poetry, random musings, insight information, Canadian goodness and witticisms galore. He seems to have a weird Air Supply fetish though. Must be a Mapleleaf thing
Dear Tosha, I once mentioned Air Supply in one of my blog posts and you found it funny. So funny, in fact, that you haven’t let me forget about it. I appreciate that. That being said, my intent for this letter is to litter it with Air Supply lyrics. In fact I planned on starting this […]A Letter To Tosha
Friends, Funny, Writing, Paul’s Letters, Life, Humor, Personal, Fiction, music, Poetry, Love, People, Letter, Blogger
Outside of her was history.
A shroud to the past
The living beneath a life.
beyond the open door
an engraved coin, the swell
of violins, conjured spirits,
the echos of and
etching of yesterday
The yearning for a new day.
Inside of her, dwindling reason
An endless ticking watch
The watch was her mind.
-Tosha Michelle
https://m.soundcloud.com/tosha-michelle2020/time-after-time-rawvery-raw
Sometimes I sing in incomplete rhymes.
I write in crayon and leave
my shoes beside the sandbox.
I sign my letters with x and o.
I ponder in doubt, the crisscross musings
speaking out loud.
Sometimes a woman needs
flowers out of season, homegrown vegetables, romance,
sex, and easy to read instructions.
Instead she meditates on ice cream
Jung and HGTV
Attempts to become enlightened.
Prays to paper and pen.
Looking for an all encompassing view.
Hoping for an all embracing embrace.
She offers herself to drumbeat and sage.
The rhythm under the air. She turns her heart
to some inferior door, finding something buried
in red. Hope for a moment sustained
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 