A little something

I’m from mud. Happily I tell this to anyone who asks. There was a deep raving across from our house. At the bottom of the ravine was a brook. In Spring Time the brook rushed with the melting of the snow. Mud was everywhere and I loved it. The sun rose higher each day and I stayed outside with it as long as I could.

This past Friday I drove back home. I saw my old ravine. I saw faces that held strongly to their belief that only they know what they know and the same bitterness hung about their hue. I don’t miss that. Not one bit. But, I do miss the landscape. I pulled over, a short mile away from my old ravine, and took a picture of a Bull. I walked through the wet grass and draped my arms over the fence to eliminate it from the photo. The Bull stood and huffed at me. I was lucky to have such a view at an early age. And, I knew it.

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My Closet – Poem

A Poem
Written by -M. Taggart
1/21/18
For years I opened my closet door to see nothing
but my own jackets, sweatshirts, boots, shoes, crap.
Eventually my closet and I didn’t get along.
Why bother opening a thing that gives back
only the same memory with no hope of progression.
My boots became more worn. My jackets changed
positions and eventually those too become useless to me.
Five years into being a hard core bachelor
-nothing could control me. Not a thing,
except for my fucking closet.
I specifically remember opening my brother’s closet
during a family event. It was the twins birthday.
I was among the last to leave. I had ruffled their hair,
told them I loved them- they ran off into another room
and I opened their closet door to find my jacket.
This was my brother’s home and my brother’s life.
In his closet hung children’s jackets. Some of which
had little ears. And on the back of the closet door
hung shoe and boot holders and in the holders were
little shoes and little boots. I wanted to cry. I wanted
to do more than cry but instead I closed the door and
walked out of my brother’s house and got into my truck.
I shut the door, turned the radio on, and drove. I drove
through farmland and shut the damn music off because I
never listen to music and it was nothing more than a mask
for having looked into another closet that was not a closet
at all, but a life. A home. A real home. I had my four walls
and my closet that I didn’t get along with waiting for me.
-Now though..I sit here thinking of that asshole closet of mine
and about how somehow, someway, it’s still there. And now
It’s the one who is alone because I am no longer alone and haven’t
been for a long, long while. Even before I met Megan. Something
happened. Something that propelled my being into what I was
meant to be, to live, to see. And now when I open my closet, it isn’t
my old boots. It’s life. It’s beautiful life. Megan’s fluffy jacket’s that
I couldn’t possibly understand how to wear, it’s her boots that I couldn’t
possibly walk in, it’s her smile hiding in the hood of her jacket, I open
my closet now and I see my son’s winter jacket puffing out at me, begging
me to put it on him. I see tiny little ears. I see little boots. And little shoes.
This is my closet, and this is my most favorite closet that I have ever had.

-M. Taggart

Chillingly Beautiful – Western Mass III

Western Massachusetts is a chillingly beautiful region where creativity comes from blood. -M. Taggart.

Springfield-MA
June 01, 2011 Tornado, Springfield, MA was home to a devastating tornado. I remember watching this image live. I’m sure many remember the same. Photo credit Brewbeer22.

 

Church
This church, located in Gill MA, has been the structure for nightmares for many youthful adventurers. Including myself.

Turners
Turners Falls Indians. As a teenager I was called a river rat. I told them proudly, ‘No. I am a Turners Falls Indian.’

 

Sunderland
Sunderland, MA. Autumn is here. Visit Route 47 and enjoy. You’ll find great views, restaurants, and a number of small farms offering apple cider and maple sugar. After graduating from the School of Management at UMass Amherst I enjoyed living in this town for a number of years. Photo credit John Burk.

brimmfield
A tornado can’t last in the mountains. They can. They will. This is the same June 1st, 2011 tornado that started in Springfield, MA. The tornado was on the ground for over 30 miles. Photo credit wellfleetosprey.com

 

turners mills
Turners Falls, MA. I feel admiration for the structure that was. And for the town. It’s simple when we let it be. I can’t get enough of these old mill pictures. Photo credit WWLP.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, you might enjoy my short story. Cheers.

A Poem – Here We Stand

we are truly awed
when we are reminded
the sky is alive

-M. Taggart copyright 2017

 

Stand in awe
Photo Credit: Kiel McAvoy. My friend, Kiel, nabbed this photo of the approaching Thunder Storm in Western, MA on 5/31/17. I love this. I am a fool for extreme weather. Kiel’s talent shines with this one. Look at the blackness of its underbelly. Look at it! It’s looking right back.

Chillingly Beautiful -Western MA II

Western Massachusetts is a chillingly beautiful region where creativity comes from blood.  -M. Taggart.

Turners Cold
This building is located on the bank of the Connecticut River in Turners Falls, MA.  Many children have dared one another to enter any one of the old mill buildings. Some of which are dilapidated and empty.

Gill Bridge
This bridge stands some 80 plus feet above the Connecticut River in Gill, MA. It is truly beautiful. However, for locals, it unfortunately holds a haunting reputation. Sometimes the bodies aren’t found until spring, caught on the banking of an island downstream.

Mill Turners
A building left in ruins, Turners Falls, MA. It’s rumored one of the Fallout games was designed after the crumbling mill buildings found in Turners Falls. Photo Credit eofp.net.

B of F
The famous Bridge of Flowers located in Shelburne Falls, MA. Photo credit, millbrookhousenews.

Flood Shelburne
The flood that nearly destroyed The Bridge of Flowers courtesy of Hurricane Irene in 2011.

Norman Rockwell
Norman Rockwell painting. The Normal Rockwell museum is located in Stockbridge, MA. The painter found inspiration within the hills of the Berkshires. Drive through them and you’ll understand.

inside
As a ‘hello’ to my friends back home, I had to include another Turners Falls photo. Did any of you make it to this hallway? And I wasn’t joking. Turners is rumored to be the inspiration for the Fallout Four release.

 

Strathmore.jpg
The Strathmore Paper Mill buildings in Turners Falls.

IMG_2345
And I leave you with this hidden gem of farmland. Only a few will know its location.

 

Thank you for reading and Cheers!

I invite you to learn about my self published book.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Or read the reviews via the amazon link below.

Fallout Four / Turners connection: http://www.barcroft.tv/real-life-fallout-four-urban-historian-explores-locations-boston-massachusetts

Gill Bridge Photo Credit – Mapio.net

Strathmore Paper company photo credit – recorder.com

New England – More Than a Region

New England bands culture with devotion. Where the four seasons are to be experienced and enjoyed, not endured. -M. Taggart

IMG_0044 (1)
Kennebunkport, Maine. Bush Senior’s estate overlooks the ocean. Kennebunkport is a beautiful sea side town. Visit the shops or brew pubs and enjoy the views.

Waiting
Watch Hill, Westerly RI. Fog helps to set the mood. The child will not see whom he is waiting for again.

Maine Snow
Shapleigh, Maine. A man climbs a snow bank during a snowstorm (2014). The region had been hit by several snow storms. People in Maine are known for enjoying all four seasons. Apparently night time snow bank climbing counts.

brimfield-tornado.jpg
Brimfield, MA. The 2011 tornado badly damaged this New England town. Visit Brimfield’s massive antique show.  You can view the tornado damage and help the town by having lunch or staying the night. Here’s where to find info http://www.brimfieldshow.com

Emily-Dickinson-Homestead.jpg
Amherst, MA. If you enjoy poetry, visit the Emily Dickinson house then visit downtown Amherst. It’s not a large town, but it’s just big enough to make an afternoon out of it. And if you’re researching colleges, there are five within minutes of one another.

Maple Syrup.jpg
Maple syrup lines, New Hampshire. (source: Flickr user glass_house)

Wine Country
Jonathan Edwards Winery. North Stonington, CT.  Take a drive into the hills of Connecticut, you won’t be disappointed.

Lobster Maine
Perry Long’s Lobster Shack, Surry, Maine. Find more info here http://www.mainetravelmaven.com/my-favorite-maine-lobster-shacks/

block
Block Island, RI. Go here. Just, GO, Here. Take the quick ferry ride and find this beach.

New England consists of six states. Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts. Click the link below if you’d like to read a short story which takes place in the valley-farmlands of Western MA.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Cheers! -M. Taggart

A Purposeful Life – Fiction

Written by Matt Taggart aka -M. Taggart

Copyright 2016

A Purposeful Life – Fiction

 

And the children were happy because they loved their uncle and love was a smile.  He reached lower to ruffle each of their heads.  His nephew ran after his twin sister through the doorway leading into the living room and both were now gone.  Only the sounds of their footsteps racing upstairs were left for him.

He was alone.  His brother and wife had already said goodbye and were also upstairs.  Now, all that was left was to open the closet door, find his jacket, and leave.

Hanging on hooks, on the back of the closet door, were coats with little hoods that had animal ears.  On the closet floor were tiny boots.  He told himself not to think about it, but it was too late and he’d already started.  He reached out and touched a red checkered coat that belonged to his nephew.

No, he thought.  This is their happiness and it isn’t right to think of this now.  He closed the front door behind him, walked down the porch steps, and into the driveway.  He opened the door to his truck and got in.

Opening the windows, feeling the wind, and listening to music while he drove didn’t help.  He turned the radio off.  The winding New Hampshire road led him through farm land.  Cow pastures and corn fields were on either side of him.  Beyond the fields was woodland leading to a deeper forest.  Maybe he ought to stop his truck and walk in as deeply as he could and not come back for a long while or ever.  It seemed it was now always like this.  Each time he visited his brother- to see family, he was forced to remember and now it was overwhelming and he couldn’t not think of it.

It was difficult for him to look forward to his empty studio apartment containing walls which mocked each of his thoughts.  He would pace his small apartment and view the same cracks each time he passed them as not to tip the balance one way or the other.  Then he’d sit on his one chair he owned and read.  Sometimes this would help.  Other times it would only open him more to what he’d been trying to escape.  He was reminded that scars of this nature won’t heal with any one word from any one mouth and most likely won’t heal at all.  No matter how many words he’ll hear or read.

He knew deeply he needed change.  The cow pastures on the winding road wanted him to settle here, with them all, but he couldn’t.  He continued to drive, although he wasn’t truly in this moment.  He was nearly already pacing in his studio wondering which Hemingway story to read to find peace.  He wouldn’t think of it though, he told himself.  He’d only try and think of how they had smiled with love and try to learn it all again.  The sun was bright.  His mind split while trying to give permission to live with purpose.

 

I invite you to learn about my self published book.

https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Or you can skip directly to the amazon page and read the reviews.

Thank you for reading.

Matt

 

Don’t Be A Sally – Based on True Events

If you enjoy beer with your whiskey you may enjoy this story.  It’s based on true events. The hardest working men and women I know drink.  They’ll watch the foam slide down the glass and empty the contents and order another.  Some are covered in mud and dust from working in the fields and other’s pull on their suit to be sure they haven’t wrinkled.

The first chapter is tough.  Don’t Be A Sally is based on true events. Cheers.Sugar Loaf

Photo taken by me.  Use your smart phone, kindle, laptop, or iPhone reader and click the link below to read the story.