Poem by M. Taggart

I’m thrilled to share with everyone that a poem of mine has just been published on MasticadoresUSA. Thank you, Gabriela!

MasticadoresUsa // Editora: Gabriela Marie Milton

Image: Gavin Fishing – the son of the author

by M. Taggart
[author’s site]

Wrapped around a child’s fishing pole, lives
a vibration of time steadily stamping out
a form of a memory. Time, which floats in
and out of the child’s consciousness while
inhaling the smell of pond water
mixed with the blue sky covering the tops
of the pine trees- he does wonder about time.
When does time stop.
How do we know when it’s time to go and
when does time think about us. How does
time work and why is there time. Why is
there anything. He felt a nibble on the end
of his line. The wind sent small rippling waves
toward the shoreline. He stood, with his boots
submerged only a few inches, and watched as the
wind calmly pushed the murky water passed him.
The nibbling had ceased. He stood…

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And a few did often, by willing of the mind,
what so many did not. And this
made for depths of exhaustion,
jealousy, and fear. Though the same rules
applied, they were never searched for and
they were never learned. They were
never even dreamed of.

-M. Taggart

That Man in the Pub

If you aren’t familiar with, Jules Bike Poems, please consider reading this.

I enjoy the storytelling in this piece of writing.


Jules Bike Poems

You’ve seen that look before

The cheap brown suit

The Windsor knotted tie tied tight

The brothel crept boot

He’s the funniest man there ever was

The funniest there will ever be

His mirth fuelled words supress all smiles

And lack sincerity

So you avoid his eyes

You know it’s wise

He’s not your bestie mate

You don’t dare to glance

At the funniest man

Or to you he’ll gravitate, too late

To turn away

So prepare to hear

His endless repartee

His underlined unpunchlined

Forced hilarity

And though you want to be alone

You’ll buy him his next drink

Share a pub door smoke with him

You know you live in sync

With the funniest man

In the cheap brown suit

And Windsor knotted tie

The master of vulgarity

The pub bar butterfly

He’s everything you don’t want to be he’s

That man in the pub

And soon you’ll…

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