Sometimes I feel empty when I finish writing.
Or, when I complete a submission for publication.
Not this time. I feel exhilarated.
I feel as though a lot needs to be said, and I’m going to say it.
When I was young, I needed light.
Now I plan to be a light for the young.

-M. Taggart

Saw a man today

Saw a man today
wheeling a grill
down a crowded street

it was raining
His face was tight

He looked homeless,
but with a grill

I wanted to know his story

The rain picked up.
the line of vehicles too

in my rear view mirror
I watched him push
the grill into the woods

he stumbled at first

I wanted to praise him.
I said a prayer

-M. Taggart

(photo taken by me. same day)

Poem Up #A Trick on Life

Now this one I’m proud of!

As many of you know, I love our son completely. Having the
ability to ‘will things’ into place, or happenings into reality, exists.

It’s real. Faith, is real.

Thank you, Terveen Gill (Editor of Masticadores India and wonderfully talented author). I consider you a friend. I’m thankful to have you in my life.

A Trick on Life

I played a trick on life
and trusted it.
Along with what my mind delivered;
the opening of a door, the murmur
of a child, the running feet from
a few rooms away until finally
they were no longer away, but here.
As if when having thought about life
with him, long before conception,


Please visit the publication to read the entire poem:

Poem Up! #Global Desire

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


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:

Thanks everyone, and cheers!


poem – voice of a

Empathy is not a sport.
It doesn’t come a little at a time-

Yelling out the window at
homeless people begging for
money is a game played by
control freaks of the world.

“Mommy. What was that angry
man doing to that sad man on the street?”

“Widening the divide. Some people
are dark in the places where they
should be light but they like the dark more.”

“I don’t like that. I don’t want to like the dark more.”

“Don’t worry. You feel too well for that.”

He winced as the window rolled down. But, this time,
a little voice filled with hope filled his uneasy mind.

-M. Taggart



Short Story Based on True Events

I received a touching review on ‘Don’t Be A Sally’ a short story based on true events.

“Wonderful short story about Adam and Goldie, lyrical, honest, masterfully written (with a sad touch), plus a lot of suspense along the way and a great character building. A remarkable treat for short story-readers!”  –Victoria Ohlsson 

Victoria is a fantastic author and has a wonderful blog which you can find here: https://raynotbradbury.com/

An excerpt, Chapter 1

His heart pounded in his chest and his ears rang. He was in hell. He was sure of it. This moment; with this feeling of sickness, and pure hatred for what he felt, was hell. Welcome to hell.

No vomit came from his stomach. No vomit came from his throat and no vomit came from his mouth. His mid-section wretched up and down looking like an October cat in a filthy dance. Up and down his body rose and nothing came out. Yet he smelled his own vomit lingering all about him. Again, he rose up, and again he produced nothing. Beads of sweat were on his forehead and it wasn’t long before they fell onto the surface of the tub. He lurched heavily downward with a massive cough and something came up. Something vile and red landed onto the tub’s floor. Black. He saw nothing but black as he slowly faded and fainted again.


I think about my cousin, Adam, often. I haven’t spoken to him in months. He has chosen a path that most wouldn’t and I can only hope he is as happy as possible. The photo on the cover is the valley where the story takes place. I took the photo. This is a self published, raw and honest story.

poem – open

Most of the people who walked by him looked happy.
He was curious about why and about how they were
so effortlessly happy without knowing they were.
One woman even laughed, her head raised slightly,
and her eyes shined as her fingers slid her
red hair behind her ear. She and her friend seemed to be
floating as they passed by while he studied their well-being.
The bench he was sitting on felt empty. He wanted to feel full and alive
and to feel and be like the two happy women without having to
study how to be anything at all, but he didn’t know how. Even the sun
shinning down seemed to brighten everyone’s hue, but he felt none of this;
he could only see it and he knew it wasn’t for him. He wondered if anyone
noticed him; his emptiness he was trying to cure while living. He closed
his eyes and hoped when he opened them again he would feel differently.
He decided he would count to his favorite number.

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading!

My Published Work: