Some writings are more difficult to share, depending on what portion of the person the content came from.
The Angry Birth (Pain) Written by -M. Taggart
He stared at the same imperfections in the sheetrock each time he passed them. The studio apartment was long enough for him to walk eight full footsteps, twelve if he entered his bedroom, before turning around. He no longer rocked in bed. Pacing was exercise. He didn’t want to sit on the deck. Couldn’t. If he did He’d go back to pacing and if he paced too long he’d need to shower. If he showered he wouldn’t be able to pace again…
He wished the door wouldn’t again open; knowing he’d be forced to become another version of himself. Placed unto him from a variation of life not meant to be seen, or felt, or lived. Now- the footsteps, so very light, unheard by the household so late at night, but felt by the boy, each and every vibration, knowing it would be soon time to close his eyes and beckon the rising moon to please take him along with its translucent majesty high above where his being felt the covers being lifted.
#1 Bestselling New Poetry Anthology
Pain & Renewal features a collection of incredible voices — from Pulitzer & Pushcart prize winners to brand new poets, it’s filled with moving poetry about the highs and lows of the human experience. From love and loss to death, redemption, and beyond. – Brian Geiger (Editor)
Two days ago, Brian, the editor and founder of Vita Brevis Press, was kind enough to lend me a direct quote, “Vita Brevis’ first anthology held the #1 spot for bestselling new poetry anthologies for 5 days! It’s been a great launch, and it looks like we’ll rank in the top five for the remainder of the week.” -Brian Geiger
There’s a reason book sales did so well. Sharing with the wold personal pain and how to heal from the scars isn’t something that is easy to do. To open a wound once again, express to the world, and walk with head down..for a bit longer, is a challenge. I’m honored to have two poems published in this anthology and I’m thankful to participate.
Cheers, everyone, the purchase is worth it. The read is great.
Cloudy whispers sank near the window asking for more. We held our mind under steam filled moments screaming. No more doors without locks. No more drawers to be pulled. The brushes and combs were dead while everything else looked on.
Our tears heard themselves today. They didn’t ask how. They were there when they landed. Know not what you can see within yourself while yourself can’t see and ask again how do we listen to these tears once more. While once more finds you alone.
We drove to Mount Washington yesterday
and while driving we passed an abandoned building
At one time it may have been a convenience store
Its roof is caving in, the walls are pushing outward,
the paint is badly peeling leaving scars from weather
It looked tired and sad. I felt a strong feeling of nostalgia
As though the definition of the word was tangible-
as I literally felt the building’s pain of memory, and how it grasped
at the driving vehicles to help push it back to when it was healthy.
Back when trucks stopped, letting out footsteps that walked into
its doorway to view its craft, but that was then, and so we too
left it behind, yet I thought about it and carried a portion
of it with me. Maybe it’s just rotting wood.
Maybe next time I won’t pass. Maybe I’ll stop and walk into
its failing structure to feel anything else it might want me to feel.
She paints death alive again. Cement cracked. Who said that? I did. Where’d you get it. I heard it once. The sky raged looking for shelter. Pulling at faces. Where’d you hear it? -In my head. And that’s why I trust her. The foundation of our souls stood upright releasing each of us freely.