The biggest blindfold we have is death. -M. Taggart
Don’t take
Tag: Why
I’ll do it – Poem
A great childhood friend wants me to write for him.
We lost another.
He said he wants to remember the memories
that made him a better person while being with him
We knew Sean since early childhood. Sean didn’t have it easy.
Now, he’s gone.
So I’ll write
The best that I can. And he’ll give that to Sean’s mother.
Life’s a funny thing until it’s not.
If I close my eyes, I see Sean, with his wide grin
laughing and going on with a story.
I tried telling myself it was no big deal.
I don’t know about how to fix any of this.
-M. Taggart
poem-
I’m sitting in my head. It’s my condition. I
pulled up a chair, faced the wrong way, and
here I still sit, waiting. Challenging my
conditions.
-M. Taggart
Odd Walking Thoughts
Drag muddied thoughts below where boots belong. Have you seen the eyes below. Stable happens after explosive actions, or, before them; just before we thought we knew enough to say so, but then again we didn’t. So, there was a boot, and the footprint is dying.
-M. Taggart
copyright 2018
poem
Our truest sights need not be spliced,
as ashes share no accent; only spreading
shadows over what was, while we keep
our secrets stored in perfectly managed
images resting until needed.
-M. Taggart
poem-
It wasn’t the tree’s greatness in size
which made it remarkable
It was the sympathy in its eyes
shedding tears through its bark
-M. Taggart
I don’t remember writing this. I found it in my saved drafts with ‘eh’ written as the title.
poem-
simmering evening skies
with a slight breeze
awakening our sensations-
the smell of the woods,
moss, ferns, peeling bark,
pine needles, evergreens, birch,
lightning bugs asking to be chased,
the comfortable cloaking darkness
stars stretching our vision
helping to remind us
in time, possibly
we’ll truly know
-M. Taggart
Odd Walking Thoughts
“I thought all the time about the doing of it until I did the doing of it and now I have nothing left to think about.” The boy stepped on the ant. There will be more, he thought. The sun was high and very hot. It looked as though it had burned into the most brilliant light that it was no longer the sun, but a version of light that he could walk into. Not a furnace flowering at all. Now that he found a new thought to think about he wanted the ant back because he was feeling the loss of it and realized he had taken it away from seeing the not sun.
-M. Taggart
Poem Up
I’m thrilled to have a poem up as a featured post on SpillWords. Not only check this out, but think of submitting yourself. Cheers. You can rate this if you want to. But please don’t do so just because.
http://spillwords.com/my-favorite-closet/
Cheers
Matt
Poem-
Lift our eyes among the clouds
As the sentinel warns of approaching winds
Eager spirits oblige, ready the mounts, ready ourselves
-M. Taggart
mtaggartwriter 