Be Different

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As other were- I have not seen
As other saw- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring-

Edgar Allan Poe, ‘Alone’

I revisit this poem often. And as many before have claimed, poetry changes. The same lines which once meant one thing, now mean another. Life experience. Happiness. Depression. A solid hangover. Sobriety. Solidarity. The Hand of God.

I don’t much care for the thought of being benchmarked. In HS I refused to take the Grand Ole Test at the end of Senior Year to determine my future. ‘Ah! You belong at Harvard! But you! You belong in the streets sweeping Harvard!” Nah, those benchmarks were made by brains that don’t fit my non-squared process of being. So, I did my own thing. And things have turned out rather well.

One of the reasons I read Poe’s poem ‘Alone’ so often is that it reminds me, very clearly, how different Poe felt from his peers. I think many of us feel this way at times, and it’s OK.

Oh! I hit the weights for the first time since my injury. I kept it light and all is good! The scar is on the inside of my elbow bend. An odd place because of all of the movement needed to utilize an arm. I’ve held off on uploading a photo…I don’t know how many of my friends on here actually want to see that lol.

And ps, I’ve been that guy sweeping the street. There’s a reason I had a smile on my face.

Matt

poetry

there’s no definition
I care for

you write
what comes

and there it is

and here we sit
or stand
or even walk while we read

some words stick inside you
some are just, gone

some come back again

it’s not for everyone
but, sitting near a window overlooking
an evergreen gently dancing in the wind
is just fine for me

-M. Taggart

 

poem

What lives within the epiphany of a mirror-
Deepening lines of the emotionally crippled,
carefully awakening these thoughts.
Shall the walls land nicely and cover; warmth
longs to remove the stains of the false eternal.

-M. Taggart

Cheers and thanks for hanging out.

Little Sticks – A Poem

I like words. We all have them.
Yet, we use them so differently.
Some flow beautifully from mouths,
while others need to write them.
They can be stretched, measured for intent,
delivered with impact, or even severity, and all
each of them are, are tiny little sticks. Sticks bent,
and curled; all lined up nicely to make meaning of
our thoughts so others might also engage in our curiosities.

-M. Taggart

 

Thank you for reading and being with me. I’m thankful for all of my peers on this platform.

About:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/