When empathy and instincts
are factored into the benchmarking
of true intelligence we may finally
begin to understand how to cultivate
a healthy society.
-M. Taggart
Tag: Poems
Poem
The creation of unity
lives not with idle minds
but with the empaths
crossing oceans-
And while laws govern
lines and lines and lines
thoughts circle the world
without attachment
carrying the keys to peace
-M. Taggart
Poem
I guess I’m lucky like that.
I can find happiness in the
dropping of a pine cone.
In the city. In the woods.
From the edge of my office chair.
In a crowded pub with a corner window.
A book in hand, and there I am,
lucky enough to raise my eyes.
-M. Taggart
Soul Searching
There’s no wall
that can stop a prayer.
-M. Taggart
Poem- To be seen
I’m looking at a picture of us
I didn’t like it at the time
There was something too real-
I felt ugly about it
But now I love it
You were trying to tell me something
And now that you don’t want to be seen
I’ve figured it out in the photo
While I was off mentally having fun
You were telling me you loved me
and that you were sick
They say a picture says a thousand words
What about emotions
-M. Taggart
Poem- And then, more.
I like to sit and do nothing.
I Stare at the walls.
Or, close my eyes and stare
at an image I don’t know,
given to me by something
I don’t understand,
mixed with emotions
that aren’t mine.
Sometimes I open my
eyes to see the same walls
that have always been there.
But then, I close my eyes again.
-M. Taggart
Self
Eyes sores are everywhere
Let’s be kind to them in the mirror
-M. Taggart
Poem-
Indignation is no trip to solidarity.
No prized, or treasured fellowship,
while fixed on the wayward ego-
Into the wind we go, where there’s
an unending expanse to listen if willing.
-M. Taggart
I struggle with titles. If you have one for this, I’d like to hear from you.
The Simple Things
I like the smell of cut grass
and the thought of tomorrow
-M. Taggart
Odd Walking Thoughts
A new theory of biology twinkled in a bulb as the crescent moon smiled. Can’t we all have a poem to watch as teeth brush and eyes wave. Mend your skip. A soul knows what’s in the twinge of wind.
-M. Taggart
