Poem Up! #Global Desire

The wonderful Gabriela Marie Milton has selected a very precise time to publish my poem
“Global Desires” on MasticadoresUSA.

https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2021/09/29/global-desire-by-m-taggart/

Global Desire

It’s dark, with little wind, and we are alone watching
only the flames and listening to the crackling, and
smelling the aroma of the burning pine and oak.
Each flame is unique with movements and degrees
of color created by the moment of energy released.
Each differing angle, while flickering clues, is

********

You can read the full poem here:
https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2021/09/29/global-desire-by-m-taggart/

Thanks everyone, and cheers!

Matt

MasticadoresUSA #Interview

Please ‘click’ on over and check out the interview!

https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2021/07/17/masticadores-interview-matthew-taggart/

“M.- Since when do you write? Was there a specific moment that prompted you to start writing?

5th grade. In tiny hand writing. I still have the story. I begged my teacher to read it. He, Mr. Silverman, told me he needed to use a magnifying glass to read the words.”

https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2021/07/17/masticadores-interview-matthew-taggart/

Thanks to both Juan Re Crivello, Fundador de Masticadores, and the wonderful author and editor Gabriela Marie Milton.

Have a great day!

Matt

Oh, it’s on!

I love Gavin. I’m blessed to be his father. I don’t understand how a parent could have the capacity to not love their child. And yet, so many don’t. And so many do. I’m in the ‘do’ category. I always knew I wanted to be a father. And bam! Here I am! And there he is. Looking rather serious and daring me to sink his battleship.

The doctor told my wife to call her when she starts to bleed. We had already lost one. I held on to Faith- Tell life it can’t. Gavin wasn’t supposed to be born. So we were told. Somehow Megan and I suffered a bit more though. Megan nearly died during an ectopic rupture when Gavin was nearly two years old.

Megan lived. Gavin lived. I’m trying my best to live.

Gavin won. In so many ways.

-Matt

Gavin is five. Not sure about his soul though.

Factoids from a 5-year-old.

Yesterday I picked Gavin up from school and told him I was going to drive him to a surprise. Gavin loves surprises! I drove him to a toy store and told him I was going to buy him a toy for absolutely no reason other than that I loved him. I gave him a budget and in we went. He picked out Tyro, a blue and stretchy Dino figure.

Just as I was paying for his new toy he decided he had something to say to the friendly cashier.

“Excuse me. Do you see that human right there? That’s my Dad.”

Well, there we have it. My son acknowledged my existence as a human and also as his father. I can rest easy.

-Matt

P.S.,- As some of you know, I’m a very proud father and husband πŸ™‚

Have a great day and buy someone a toy! lol they may just have something to say.

Positive Update!

I’ll be sharing a published poem tomorrow!

Please keep an eye out! The Poem, An Old Beginning, was one of three
which I had previously submitted to a poetry contest.

The batch received a semi finalist mention, but they were unpublished.

I’ll be sharing the published poem as soon as I can.

Have fun today!

Matt

*A special thanks to a very talented author/editor who made this happen. I’ll be sure to
include their details as well.

Thank you, WP Family.

My Dad would have been 66 today. It’s been a tough few days leading up to this. The emotions snuck up on me. I didn’t expect it to be like this. At night I’ve been sitting on our back deck looking at the stars waiting for him to show himself. Sometimes I play his music. I don’t always handle that too well.

I took Gavin fishing this past weekend. He met an adorable little girl who was bird watching with her mother. Within minutes they were talking and it didn’t take long before Gavin announced to them that his Grandfather died. My father was amazing with Gavin. Which, for me, was healing to see. When I was Gavin’s age my father wasn’t part of our family unit.

Things change.

Thanks everyone, for the digital support and friendship. I consider of number of you friends. Even if only through these online channels, you are great people. I’m thankful for that and I’m thankful for WP. One of the bright spots for me (concerning the writing world) was Tara and her accepting a short story of mine into a wonderful horror anthology that she edited and published. Tara, I appreciate you. I still can’t find the motivation to submit any work and you were able to get that unstuck. I know I can ‘get there’ again, but I guess not yet.

So, I think I’ll take myself fishing today and see if I can find Dad.

Matt

In case you were wondering

I look back at my childhood and pull the good from the not good. There was plenty of both. Somehow I’ve become a success in life. To me, happiness is success. But to much of society, prosperity is the measure worth looking at. I wish it wasn’t like this. Reading a book outside with the sun touching the pages while listening to Spring-time birds, all while thinking nothing other than the book and the sun and the birds, that is a measure I use to gage my happiness.

Yet, somehow, even with my bad portions of my childhood, I am a success on other levels as well. I am a father. A husband. A business owner. A college graduate. I have been elected President and owner of a new company set to explode. We are building a new building in a city which contains Maine’s second largest population. I picked the city. It’s diverse. I like diversity. My company will bring new jobs to this city. As I told the city officials, my goal is to enhance the community we enter. I will do exactly that. Our store will open later this summer.

I bring these points up because, based on only my writing, it’s possible for someone to assume that I am hobbled in a dark hole spinning around in circles. That isn’t the case. It’s simply easy for me to remember the bad and to write about the bad. Just as easily as it is for me to write about morning coffee.

When I was a teenager I wanted to be a writer who lived in Maine. At that point I lived in Massachusetts. I’ve lived in a few different states, however, I am now a writer who lives in Maine. I always wanted to be a father and husband. And while sitting in a jail cell in my early twenties, I knew I’d be a loving father and husband. My will was never broken nor in question.

My childhood trauma does not define me. I use it as motivation. And through my freedom of expression that motivation lives nearly in tangible forms. I set my goals long ago and now I’m setting new goals to will into being.

I can’t wait to see what the next ten years will bring. I am blessed. I am thankful. And please keep in mind, I may write about some awful situations, some of the darkest of places, and of thoughts no one wishes upon another- keep in mind that I am fine. More than fine. It’s important the bad is not forgotten with my abundance of good in the now. Much like the photo below. Taken a month before my father’s passing. I knew he was dying. I was on a bender, I look beat up, tired, real. I remember taking the photo and staring at it, taking in all of its reality. I know I don’t look my best, but I feel the thoughts that I had during the moment, simply by viewing the photo. This game of life is something to cherish. All of it.

Matt

ps- Thanks for being here.

Hello and Goodbye

I think I’ll take a drive. The sky looks good today. Oh! I was able to make a muscle with my left bicep for the first time since the injury. Fun stuff! I ran into my wife’s office to show her my muscle. Yea. I’m like that. A bit of a child sometimes. But, I do it with flair so it’s all good! Seriously though, it was a big moment. Progress is good. Anyway, I hope everyone is having some form of fun. And if not, I invite you to create a form of fun. Even if you’re grumpy.

Gotta go drive, bye~!

Matt

I know this is a random post. I have a bunch of energy and simply wanted to say howdy to everyone πŸ™‚