You can stare in the mirror all you want.
It isn’t you until it is.
-M. Taggart
Month: November 2020
poem #pros#blackandwhitephoto
A very simple,
and basic overcast day,
surrounds a common
boggish-pond
frequently spotted
in the woods of Maine.
And while I visually
seek the basic,
that is not where
my mind sits.
-M. Taggart
poem-
I’m sad. And I’m happy too.
People are celebrating Thanksgiving.
And they should.
People are also upset that we do.
We live our truth.
I live mine and sometimes it’s not easy.
Thanksgiving is a joy; if we let it be.
We’re living in a pandemic.
There aren’t enough reasons to
gather and celebrate one another.
Christmas.
Birthdays,
which run dry,
a new baby.
Indigenous Peoples Day;
October, 11.
I believe this is another day
to celebrate our different
beliefs and cultures-
even with the history of
bloodshed.
I’d like to think we can
embrace culture rather
than revolt, continuously,
and shame.
I’d rather gather and grow.
Right now people I love
have Covid.
I’m trying to connect
people I love, to love.
That’s my truth.
Along with celebrating
Thanksgiving. And I’ll
be celebrating Christmas
in a few weeks and
cherishing the frosty
weather and warm smiles
when I tell people,
“Merry Christmas.”
If you haven’t enough,
tell me. I’ll do what I can.
Thanksgiving, Christmas,
your birthday, or any day.
I’m sad. And I’m happy too.
-M. Taggart
#pros originally posted on my Facebook page 11/26/2020.
New England
Sometimes we become lost and need a place to be. -M. Taggart
On writing
I need to love it again
pull the scab off
look at it
and know it’s me
-M. Taggart
Let’s go
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”
― Mark Twain
11/22/20 Southern Maine.
These empty streets
i drove to my father’s house
in Massachusetts.
a group of us made a large
dump run for my step-mother.
we even pulled the old pool table
out from the basement.
i held onto one end as a neighbor
cut it in half so we could
fit it into the trailer
i felt a bit sad then
after everyone left
i stayed with my step-mother
and listened to some of
my father’s music
he was damn good
but gone now
i walked into each room,
a house i lived in
as a small child,
and walked around the yard.
so much had changed
but everything was the same
eventually i loaded my truck and
drove home on streets filled with
traffic, but i only saw blank and
empty faces, gawking and waving
unhappily at slow drivers
i wonder if they know they’re alive
-M. Taggart
Be a Man
Best jobs in the world, husband, father. All others get in the way. -M. Taggart
poem
treasure this realism
twisting from view
plotting to return again
on the hour of wisdom
-M. Taggart
This
Wanna be controlled?
follow the news
like it’s God
Then tell your friends
and family all about it
Splash in the wake
of toxicity
Make it want you
more
-M. Taggart
thank you, Dad
mtaggartwriter 