if you’re ahead of your time
you can’t escape
you curdle blood
-M. Taggart
if you’re ahead of your time
you can’t escape
you curdle blood
-M. Taggart
When we watch greatness
is it not what you wanted to see?
The ball sailing exactly the way it ought to
A breast milking a baby
Music planting seeds of life
Rain smacking the cement
Mud running with water
A women glances
Her eyelashes
Her cheeks
We listen as the wind
tells us to run
to run as though it’s
a new night-time
We can never remember
to forget again-
this greatness
-M. Taggart
copyright 2017
A wooded trail in New England is different than any other-
For it speaks to you while you walk
The gray squirrels announce your arrival
while playing tag in the under brush-
The chipmunks chirp their warning
and now every woodland creature is aware-
The blue jay shrieks its boastful bellowing call of territorial command-
The wind rustles the drying leaves –
Readying themselves to drop to the ground-
They sound like evening whispers while sitting on a porch
A bend in the trail beckons you – though it is getting to be dusk-
Now the sounds of the path are darkening-
and have taken a tone of daring
Moonlight is seeping through the canopy of New England-
While you walk you hope the light of the moon will brighten the trail-
Just a bit more-
For you hear the same gray squirrels and rustling leaves-
But the squirrels are much larger now, and the whispers are no longer friendly front porch speak-
copyright 2016 -M. Taggart
I invite you to learn about my self published book.
No – It’s not our words which crucify-
It’s in our motions and especially our heavy steps-
We act as though they ought not matter – but –
Instead they matter most
We once knew a great Sadness-
It Wishes to be Remembered-
Softly – We hear it –
Let Us ask it to leave-
With a Pressing Version of Night-
We approach – careful –
I’ll be adding to this poem. Thank you for reading.
(Installment #3)