Recently I was blown away by a kind and generous man. I approached him about reading a published poem of mine, on stage, in NYC. Charles Joseph (aka SirCharlesThePoet) has an energy about him which I admire. Charles had, from my point of view, very little reason to do this for me, but he did. Because apparently, that’s how he is.
When Charles first sent me the video I couldn’t watch it. I tried, but needed to shut it off each time he started to read the poem. Not only because of what the poem means to me personally, but because of how large I view this moment- his act of kindness reached through my screen.
Please visit and participate with Sircharlesthepoet:
His About page: https://sircharlesthepoet.wordpress.com/about/
“Charles “Sircharlesthepoet” Joseph is a poet living in NYC, although he was born in Haiti. At 11 years old, Charles discovered America. Soon after his discovery of the States, at the age of 12, Charles started writing.”
Here is a link to the video. I am so very thankful for this. For Charles to read this poem on stage in NYC is a dream come true. I’m in shock that you did this for me, Charles, I will not forget. You are a talented, intelligent, creative mind. I’m happy to know you.
Our Self Embrace, orginally published on SpillWords Press:
Our Self Embrace
Cheers, Everyone! I do hope you are lucky enough to know Charles.
Was gifted this sunrise this morning. If you look closely you’ll spot the old road we are uncovering.
I love October.
One true line breaks the circling nonsense.
Like now, how I’m watching out the window
at a wretched bird that eats dead things and
about how I want not to call it by name.
When it’s so simple to say what it is,
and yet we’ve gone and filled it up again.
We’ve gone and filled it so very up.
For no reason it still is, circling,
and taking what is ours when we first
think it, as only a Vulture does, after
it assumes we’re gone.
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Being a writer doesn’t mean
you need to write about rainbows and pretty things
Nah, there’s a lot of anger and there’s nothing wrong with that
there’s nothing wrong with any of it
The envious horizon of the gorgeous sunset
It’s not about right, or wrong, it just is
It’s no longer a serendipitous storm
while we breathe its nature
through filtered gates
as these mirrors please themselves
attempting to gaze back with an
untrue sense of veneration
placed within itself for yourself-
push away this falseness
until faith becomes you
OH, I can write
says the blank door
They were eating water
seeing you seeing them
wait until they can’t
Let’s brush our teeth with midnight
and see what happens
Someday is a soliloquy sitting on one’s lap
drenching our feet as we stand.
Originally published by Vita Brevis Press, LLC on March 31, 2019.
Read my entire poem here: https://vitabrevisliterature.com/poems/a-writers-soul-poem-by-m-taggart/
I wrote this specifically for the Vita Brevis publication. If you haven’t yet taken a moment to read this poem, I invite you to drink the words.
Thank you and cheers,
Cloudy whispers sank near the window asking for more. We held our mind under steam filled moments screaming. No more doors without locks. No more drawers to be pulled. The brushes and combs were dead while everything else looked on.