Poem

Got it!
fumbled with my cell phone
knew I’d get close

it’s hard to know when to care
Sitting Next to my son
feeling him lean in

Dad

just the word

the movie was good

-M. Taggart

Poem

The accusation of life, is a memory.

We’ll see you again.

-M. Taggart

Poem

There’s no good time to write
it’s an everything thing

while rocking
the baby

I can remember rocking Gavin to sleep
in the middle of the day

being Judged

I was a stay at home Dad

rocking a baby

Knowing I was doing the right thing

Knowing the Judgment

Gavin would slowly fall asleep
sprawled out in his little onesie
on my lap

And I knew how lucky I was

as I wrote poems with my thumb

-M. Taggart

Poem

I like real things.
they seem to find me a lot.

Rocks are good.

People can be real bad.

Grey rocks can save lives.

Especially when we use them.

Gavin said to me earlier today,

“I Like trees. Each one is different.”

They sure the hell are buddy.

Just like our broken minds.

-M. Taggart

With a 209 year old song, Chris split the universe.

It’s not what he said. It’s how he said it.

In Fifth grade I raised my hand to my favorite teacher.

“Out in the Hall, now!”

I looked down at my desk.

I didn’t raise my hand to hit. I had a question.

I didn’t ask the question well enough.

I hope this makes sense.

The NFL has blocked this direct link out of greed. I urge you to find a way to listen.

The other two published poems are crushingly real. This is a warm up. ‘Hidden In Childhood.’ -Published poems.

To see, To listen

My brother and I collected baseball cards.
I didn’t realize their worth, or symbolism.
I was young, maybe seven or eight.
One of my brother’s favorite cards was
a Ricky Henderson Topps Jumbo card.
We had a brother’s argument. I ripped
his Ricky Henderson card in half.
My brother is two and a half years older than I am.
He easily could have pummeled me into pieces.
But I believe he saw that I already was.
I felt anger. Anger that was driven very deeply
inside my being and it wasn’t my brother that
I was angry with. I wasn’t the baseball card.
It was something to do with my baseball glove,
and how I chewed the leather strings and about
how I felt free while playing baseball, especially
when pitching. It was about how the sunlight
couldn’t lie, but somehow adults could.
And they lied the worst.

-M. Taggart

Gabriela is an angel. Please purchase this book to see what she’s created.

Poem

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

Merry Christmas!

One baby did this

-M. Taggart

Poem

When you turn noise off

And say it in your mind
and then say it again
you will seek

and you will find

-M. Taggart

Poem

We have lost liberty

-M. Taggart