Poem

I hope morning wakes you
with a passionate light
gentry brushing your brow
igniting a fervid determination-
After all
There is only one you

-M. Taggart

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Poem

Beware the man bearing gifts,
the one you really don’t know;
behind his beaming eyes
lives layer upon layer of
melancholy and shame-
so deeply rooted, he, himself
has misplaced his understanding
of life. An unfortunate happening
took place when he found you-
everything he wants to be.
He then focuses, at you,
love as fake as his sinister
gift; one you’ll soon unwrap,
and with it a hidden agenda
will be sprung. Take notice
and back away, back away now.

-M. Taggart

Poem

It’s awkward talking to nobody when it’s yourself

Have you ever seen you
walking underneath where you belong
catching thoughts with your mouth

It’s not what you want to do
not really

But, the floor has other ideas
and when you close your eyes
you see more than you should

Again back-
top-side, walking nicely
almost singing

 

-M. Taggart

 

Poem – My Secret

I have a two-hour block of time
to write

Which is an immense amount of time
for me to do any one thing
without disruption

I don’t know if I want to write
about nothing
or a leaf

Both of which fit my mindset

Much like the thought of infinity
fitting into droplets of thought
which I place into a bottle
with no bottom

I won’t, however, describe
what it is about the construct
of a leaf or the amount
of nothing

Those are mine

-M. Taggart

 

Here! Read my short story, Only. Just. Here. published in America’s Emerging Horror Writers- East Region, by Z Publishing House. There are fifteen short stories in the book and I found all of them to be entertaining.

America's Emerging Horror Writers: East Region

Poem

I think I’ll walk to the top of the mountain
and look at nothing

my passion seems often twisted
into un-realities

A cabin in the north, with its four walls,
and rustic innards speaks the truth
I care most about

Maybe I’ll find it among
the nothing

-M. Taggart

Poem – the leaves

Outside the condo window
from the second floor
I could see, maybe, a few thousands leaves

Now, outside my office window,
in our house, I see millions.

I haven’t a clue what to do with myself.

I watch them far too often and become
completely lost

Good weather. Bad weather. No weather.
A slight breeze

I have a lot to learn
from these leaves

-M. Taggart

poem – live and let live

I dislike the dying telling the living how to be.
We all have our chance and it’s ours.
Never there’s. never was.

As if time will treat me any differently.
Never can. Never will.
And I’m fine with that.

It’s not death that cares.

-M. Taggart