A beach;
a beach chair,
one favorite book,
smiling brilliant sunshine,
with a few clouds
creating art
in the big
blue sky-
and the sound of the
ocean leading its
waves toward our
outstretched feet.
Finally.
Tag: Art
Poem – Will It
A new thought, subcutaneous in nature,
provoked an uncontrollable desolation-
To the North sits newly consecrated ground-
Here though, lay the cracks of today, splintered
with fear as the sun dips while we search for
pocketed isolation to decipher entrance to the light.
-M. Taggart
#-M. Taggart Odd Walking Thoughts
Sometimes I wonder where the line falls. And who’ll jump on which side. Then again, I don’t fucking care. It’ll fall, or not, if I watch, or not, and we’ll all jump into the same space in time where we walk and walk and walk the same routine and hopefully not complain about ourselves and others to the point of evacuation of self..and there we are, waking up in the morning with another sunrise to view and we look at our better halves, and children, and co-workers, and friends; where the line falls really means nothing much. It’s a gift to be here.
-M. Taggart
Share it, but, Don’t steal it. I’ve written 265 of them. I plan on writing a thousand more.
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/odd-walking-thoughts/
Poem – finality
I like a dead tree
to look at.
A beautiful
dead tree
against the
backdrop
of moving clouds
and stirring winds.
-M. Taggart
Dreams – And The Creative Process
I’ve literally been ‘given’ lines of poetry in my dreams. I wake up, do my job, and write them down. -M. Taggart
This thought was spurred into being by an intriguing post written by Angel Zuma. It appears that Angel is a relatively new blogger.
Please, let’s flood Angel’s blog with support! Visit Angel’s post here:
Rustic Wednesday #5
Fire In The Sky
Photo taken by Matt.
Poem – Around again. Can you.
They say-
Every good story needs a beginning,
middle,
and End.
With a cloudy memory
A crumb,
Followed by a bag of nothing-
finds a thing of clarity-
Once upon a Time.
Sovereignty.
-M. Taggart
Poem-
We sat next to ourselves near a pool of water
A few things we Remember
childhood horror
running from walls
from mushroomed
walls
A deep purple came
We shouldn’t have been
The water spun and rippled
found an old friend, though.
-M. Taggart
See
Our subconscious thirsts to be seen; let’s build a window. -M. Taggart
Photo taken by Matt’s cell phone in Maine.
Rustic Wednesday
What was, is not now. -M. Taggart
Location: Northern Maine.
Photo: Matt’s Cell.
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