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Tarringo T. Vaughan

Mind Of a Creative Writer

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One April Morning (The 36th Song) Written April 27th, 2012 10:31 A.M. A howling wind regurgitates through the reflection of soft sunlight that is peeking through...

I’ve been sitting here singing now for thirty-five years/ listening to the music of my heart whistle through laughter, pain, happiness and tears. So as I...

To Live Again To progress one has to remember to live.   One night I sat alone listening to my past pain unhealed whining against the coldness of yesterday’s...

Written April 27th 2009 Thirty-three years ago I had no name, no dreams no emotion — they say I was just a ten pound bundle of joy pushing my way out of a...

Written April 27th 2008 To be born again is to release yesterday’s fears and rise from the recycled shell we call existence; it is the freedom to capture...

Her heart was a tourist searching exploring a new destination for that something once familiar. She was lost in a silent crowd with the identity of heartbreak...

Sidewalks: the clutter of movements simplified on pavements of time where strangers become familiar stories and friendly smiles become hidden identities behind...

There are times I stare out into the openness of a quiet world watching  my reflection cry. Sometimes I don’t feel my feelings are heard; sometimes I watch...

Lanky, skinny, black boy, age of sixteen years; shirt from k-mart, pants from sears. He sits alone at a cafeteria table with no one to occupy his time. They...

Written April 27th, 2013 from the thoughts that arrived at 5:35 A.M   Eyes wide open inside the 37th dream of a lifetime,   I am breathing —   and...


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