smallish, simple things.

Expect a large, “Hello,” from the sky today. That’s how it is. How it works. There’s no one person who knows other than the self, wishing to see what’s given from a simple gust of wind; lifting the ever floating leaf, closer to its destination, just beyond the reach of your outstretched arms as you look above to receive the day’s welcome.

-M. Taggart

poem- new desk.

My fingers are strong,
so I think I’ll type a bit more.

Set up my new desk this evening.
Having scotch to celebrate.
Blue Label.

The old desk was tied
to my abuse.

Told myself it was OK.

How many years did I write on that?

How many rain drops fell.

Life is what we make it.
Unless you’re a child without a choice.

-M. Taggart

 

On Self Reflection

Timeless humanity and our perception of this. That is what I study. That is what I write. To include the walking positives, and the walking negatives. I try and peel away my internal hurdles to better see the world around me. When I meet a person I lean on the positives, now by natural sate of mind, and so often I notice possible new friends leaning on the negatives. Is this the best we have, humanity?

For me, it started with large amounts of self reflection. I lived alone for a number of years and paced my studio apartment walls endlessly. Until I bought a kayak. I floated on rivers, streams, ponds and lakes, alone, and then with friends and family. Someone recently asked me, “Was that depression? Being alone all the time on the river?” No. It was needed and a blessing.

When I was a child I knew how to run wildly among the ferns and pound the banking of the brook until I broke into the water, with or without shoes, and it was pure bliss. The sunshine, the leaves above me, the awareness of my surroundings. Somehow much of that was taken. I’m partly to blame. Growing older lead me to things that never mattered to me, but somehow I pretended that they did. Until I finally found the water and the aloneness again.

It was during this time that I learned one of my ‘secrets’ I cannot share. I can only hope many of you find your own version of this. This is where my faith is stored and why my confidence is that of a beautifully happy child. I know something. It was given to me as a gift and I see it everywhere I look. In each piece of wind, each hand shake, and in every face.

I hope you all have the best Independence Day possible.

Matt

Odd Walking Thoughts

 

The frog hopped along walking sideways with thoughts, asking the young boy to please share his, ‘it wasn’t me. i’m not much anyway, but if i were, it wouldn’t matter.’ the frog stopped hopping, ‘what matters is you. you don’t know this yet. i pray you will.’ the boy stepped along remembering. always remembering.

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts

It’s all fine. Until it’s not. Although, from a child’s point of view it’s possibly only about sticks and stones and how far will this jump take them over the brook. Landing midway, a smile breaks out from underneath the learned hardness, as if the smile were welcoming themselves home again. This is you. With the water streaming around your small legs, yet to grow into adulthood because this is you; a child wearing a smile standing in a brook after having jumped directly into the middle without a care. And all of the trees waved in the wind.

-M. Taggart

Read more Odd Walking Thoughts here:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/odd-walking-thoughts/

Odd Walking Thoughts – It’s now. Go

Shaking his face at his door, the boy screamed a terrible scream deep within his heart; with a crushing idiom only memories speak with. Please, no. Footsteps. The door knob turns. It’s nighttime. He opens his window, and lashes the darkness with his legs. They’ll never know me again. I was never home. -A lightning bug flashed. I see you. I’m coming.

-M. Taggart

copyright 2018

poem- spliced

We rocked in a padded room
holding a single piece of fabric
which was so perfectly fine
that it wasn’t allowed to be-
It frayed and spliced
into millions of splintered ends
leaving us blank and empty-
The door to our padded room opened-
We stopped rocking
knowing it was now over-
The one thought was gone.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018