I just want a corner to lie
down in.
Pull the covers over
my heart.
Let it get buried in
snow.
Somewhere underground
where the coordinates get lost
A hideout from worry and the
slow burn out of life.
My calendar whited out.
My fingers too cold to hold.
My lips too raw to kiss the end note.
And I can live in the moment
before.
A frozen vessel alone
in the stillness.
My soul encased in a thousand
miles of Arctic air.
-Tosha Michelle
Please excuse my absence. I have doctor’s note. Ha. Just not from that kind of doctor. You guessed it, a witch doctor. Ha! In reality, currently working on my post graduate degree. It’s keeping me pretty pretty busy. I haven’t had a lot of time to write poetry. I did take a day trip to the mountains recently and thought I would share some photos with you. Miss interacting with you all.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m a chapter
from a long forgotten red bound book,
sitting on the nightstand, lost amoung
the newest must read novels.
Other times, i feel like a Whitman poem,
beloved and well read.
Tonight I just have a broken feel.
I raise a glass of regret to memories
that burn, drink to dreams lost, and
loves that failed. Malaise in my bones.
Nostalgia my hydrophobia.
Here’s to:
the nights that turned sour, yet somehow never eroded the palatableness of a half full glass.
I still believe in the soothing cadence
of a soft voice calling my name,
that’s there’s still a double shot
of swoon being poured into a sturdy
pitcher just for me.
I can almost hear the seductive clang of ice, the jazz of a tenor sax who’s notes decant silk sheets, and that drunk dazed look from phenylalanine released, I sway to the knowledge that love is
so much more than that.
Sometimes just a melancholy riff,
a glass knocked over.
Still there’s sweetness left to savor.
The music only dormat to those
who refuse to listen.
-Tosha Michelle
Photo courtesy of yours unruly
For my lovely friend Alex. Thanks for being my pal, confidante, partner in crime, and fellow foodie.
You can follow his blog here: Lots of wonderful stuff there.
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
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
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
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
The sky announced the sun
on a day when the sun’s arrival
was enough.
The clouds curtseyed and then
fell away.
The dogwood branches swayed as
with divine provocation.
The poppies pondered providence
the afternoon light, and alliteration.
Lovers and children were devoting their hours
to the wind and newly sprung gardens.
Coins were tossed into fountains devoted
to wishes, on a day so bright surely all
desires were fulfilled.
All day long, the sun lingered as if
a love sick suitor hesitant to say goodbye
to the now blushing sky.
Sadly, the sun learned you can’t roll
back the hours or the day’s resolve
to fade into night.
All you can do is abide the darkness
and await the promise of another spring
struck, soulful blue day.
-Tosha Michelle
My poetry knows how to
sing the blues.
It finds rhythm in lost loves,
an empty room, a whiskey shot.
It’s cadence of roving eyes
a wallet devoid of
cash. the desire to stay.
The need to go.
Misery flows from lyrics
that refuse to let it fold.
My poetry channels
Ella Fitzgerald and
dissonant chords of a broken
someone.
It thrives on restless things and memories
that come to life in a song
Moaning the words so fervently, the ink drips
to save me, even when I’m out of tune.
And I can only glimpse
where I’ve been, not where I’m going.
The want for new history
and a new song spurs the poet on.
-Tosha Michelle
And on a u related and happy note. I am in love with this song. It takes me to a serene place.
Everything I Never Told You 