Odd Walking Thoughts #poem

I like straight forward curvatures in mud. I’m from mud, I say, when asked indifferently. I’m from mud and cow pastures and tall green ferns growing on the banks of the friendly gurgling brook with the trout hiding in the deepest pools under the roots of a hovering pine; casting a shadow is a harboring act of courage when having wellness in mind. for others. and more others.

-M. Taggart

A cold, sweet, thing.

Kindness isn’t something hard to remember.

It was cold on the lake.
All the children wore layers and thick hats,
the kind that make it hard to really see them,
and when a flag sprung, everyone said,
“Flag!” And pointed.

The layered children ran toward the flag.
Ice fishing in Maine has a way of making
children, and all people, stay outside.

Two fish were freezing to death in the snow.
They had been brought topside a few minutes earlier.
“Are they dead?” He asked. A curious four-year-old.

“Not yet. But soon.”

“Why are they dead?”

“Because they are freezing and belong in the water.”

“But, why are they dead?”

“Because we caught them and brought them up here.”

“Can I touch them?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, fish. Hi, fish.”
The boy stroked the dying fish with his gloved hand.

-M. Taggart

poem – to hell with rules

when no one’s there to pour a sonnet down your throat
easing your expressions of pain as your scorching metallic rage
sets itself against its blade-
wait
shiver first with an angle and propel thy teeth against a hue from the heavens
**
-M. Taggart
copyright 2017

more poems
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/category/poem/

more odd writing
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/2017/09/28/odd-walking-thoughts-dont-keep-up/

enjoy.