Poem – The Other

It’s gone. The other took it.

I turn the TV off.
Move a few toys

This is the only place I have to be me

Thank you God.

My son wakes up every morning
I get to see him laugh when I enter his room.
I pluck him from his crib. I love this.

I bring him downstairs, step over the playpen wall, put him down.
He runs to the couch and bounces onto it.

In this room, with my son and his toys, I am here. Only here.

My son has a slide in the playpen area. Which, is our living room.
His mother got it for him. And maybe for me too.

Have you ever seen a crying angel in cement?
When the other comes we know we have and we weep.


-M. Taggart


Originally written on 6/5/17. This poem is personal.

WordPress – The Final Frontier

Occasionally I receive emails from fellow bloggers. I find it heartwarming. When I nearly lost Megan, a number of you reached out to me. The support I was given by my peers within this WordPress platform was touching and I needed it.

I have no choice but to write. If I don’t, I am not well. My first post on WordPress was this, “Test.” I clicked publish. I literally had zero clue what WordPress was, or what would happen. I was shocked when a few people ‘liked’ that first post. I didn’t realize it was actually ‘live’ and viewable, not just on WordPress, but for the entire internet world.

After the first year of writing on here, I happily admit that I had this thought, “To what end?” I asked myself what was the point of doing this. I thought about this for a few weeks and the answer became very clear. I write for myself. I need to write. And I’m massively thankful for WordPress. I use the ‘free’ version and it has produced astonishing results. I’ve connected with friends from around the world who helped support me through family hardship, publishers have researched my blog and invited me to submit to them, and I learned that apparently I write poetry.

If you are new to blogging and are asking similar questions about the purpose, I hope this helps. It’s not just worth your time, it’s part of your life. Just keep going. Even if you post something and receive zero feedback, likes, follows, etc. That’s happened to all of us. And at the end of the day, that’s OK too. Especially when you’re writing for yourself.

Cheers everyone, and seriously, thank you for being with me.




Odd Walking Thoughts – A New Well

The view spanned portions of three states. You could see the opposite mountain range, and the valleys in between. You could even see the river with the sun shimmering off its surface, if you wanted to. He came to this spot to find peace. Instead his head raced in circles as he looked down at his boots. “No matter where I am, this follows me.” The wind blew and with the rustling of the leaves it spoke, “Every thought is its own well. And the negative ones tend to swirl in circles on the way down. It’s time to look up and create a new well facing in a direction other than down.”


Every thought is its own well
And the negative ones
Tend to swirl in circles
On the way down

-M. Taggart




Odd Walking Thoughts – Mind Games

I play tricks with leaves outside my window. I trick them into being what I want them to be and when they’ve finally made me realize they’ll only be what they are I see them turn over for the wind- While I climb into myself looking for the same things I’ve always looked for. At times I find what I’m looking for and promise to remember, but I forget and need to start all over again with new leaves, on new days with sun pouring, or rain landing outside on the dirt below- I can stand here by myself, or I can fly outside with all of them, as long as I at least look out the window and trick myself into something I can be.

-M. Taggart


Published Work:


Sometimes memories are like metal fans.
With each blade sharpened-
They aren’t beckoning you
They are pushing you away-
When you reach for them
You are cut, again-
Leaving you reeling
Running from closet to bedsheets
to where you no longer
own your memories

-M. Taggart



Never Give Up

I believe there is great strength in the ones who fight to not abandon. I think we all carry levels of pain. Some scars we can all easily see and help to care for and caress back to a version of functional health. Others are buried so deeply they’ll never be seen or fully understood. I find weakness in the ones that abandon. A selfishness that destroys itself in final completeness.