Poem

The trees are a bit different today.
Only slightly, but it’s there.
One less shred of bark.
A whisper of height more.
In the corner of our mind
we store the newness of change.
But what for? Are we waiting
for our reflection to speak.
And who’s newness is this.

-M. Taggart

Poem

I was meant to write,
I believe;
not to do the other.
I didn’t pick
that path. It’s been
placed in front of
me, an unquestioned
dream-come-true.
So, I’ll walk it
with unmoving faith.
Because that’s me.
That’s always been me.

-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

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.

Poem-

I had little, we were poor
walked across the road
and down the banking

and fished

I wasn’t good at fishing
my brother was

talked about ferns
and about how to
get stuck in mud
or about how to walk
in the brook

nobody talked about
how to help yourself
when you’re nearly gone

having little was
fine, great even

I didn’t realize
I was about to be gone

-M. Taggart

Pros

Ecstasy begins one compromise at a time;
Without this ability one will never experience
true happiness, only a matrix of self-doubt
layered with hidden meanings.

-M. Taggart