Poem-

Some people Love.
Some hate, choking on vile they created.
A few dance in and out,
looking at things that look back.
I like to think, maybe, about a laugh
I didn’t know, then speak it into being.
For the ones who hate without knowing-
That’ll be for them to solve.
Death is but stitch in the side.
It doesn’t end.
But our memory will be there.

-M. Taggart

Life

If a man tells you there’s no meaning to life, he’s already dead. Tell him. Tell him he’s dead and to crawl back into his crib until night comes without morning.  -M. Taggart

Stay With Us

some things stay crooked in a thought

Right now
I’m hoping someone is still alive

Call has been made
while i listen to my young son sing downstairs
While i have a beer
While i’m just fine

Can you sit with me, thought?

please, stay a minute.

 

-M. Taggart

 

 

Poem – The Beautiful Her

I like to give credit where I believe credit is due.
My wife, Megan, is a very talented designer.
Megan designed our entire house. Strangely enough,
Some bucked her, and us, during the entire duration
of the new house construction. Until the end. We
made adjustments. The bigger picture for me is this-
We nearly lost Megan. I’m not supposed to write about it.
Megan had emergency surgery which saved her life.
I’ll never forget finding her lying unconscious while our
son was in his high chair downstairs. Ready to pull himself
over at any moment while I was dialing 911.
The next hour pushed reality. The pain Megan was in,
the ambulance, Gavin crying as they took his mother;
I wasn’t able to get to the hospital in time, the
nurse cried when she saw me, while apologizing saying they
couldn’t wait any longer. We lost more than a few tears that day.
Megan was in full blown recovery for a month. My mother came
to stay with us to help. We still haven’t recovered.
I don’t know that we can. So we focused on the new house.
Whatever Megan wanted, I supported. I tell her she’s talented.
I don’t think she realizes just how talented. We’ve just begun
the process of making the new house a home. I’m thankful Megan
is here with us. The house, the design, Megan’s vision, none of these
dreams would have become realized if we lost her. And of course
the house itself is nothing compared to the health and life of my wife.
Thankfully, Megan was able to make tangible her gorgeous vision of our home.
We had our first drink at the island in the kitchen just after moving in.
I look at what your internal sight created, Megan, and I’m full of new emotion.
So dear, if I am with you in our house, and you see a tear running down my cheek,
it’s because I love that we still have you, and everything that I look at, is you.
I’m so sorry for what you experienced. Forgive me, I’m going to share a bit of you with the world.

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Poem

Death has its own shadow
From which we borrow time
While knowing in full entirety
It itself is following mine

A boy once walked alone at night
nearer than what he wanted-

While whispering to the wind,
‘Death follows its own shadow’

-M. Taggart

Poem

Talk with a man who wishes
to not live one day longer
And then talk with a child
who has no choice but to
leave this world early.
Why are these situations
placed one way or another
with so little leverage to help
either one. And yet I believe
we must try. Even if that means
listening to their last words.
-M. Taggart

Sent from my iPhone