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Tarringo T. Vaughan

Mind Of a Creative Writer

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The air is soft, gentle and virgin as a stubborn fog grips calmly onto a fragrant sky that is barely functional as this morning in South Windsor arises. There...

There are times where I’m just an admirer and there are times… when I am the admired but for all that I’ve become I still fear at times those unfamiliar...

Love, in the creation of a moment, kneeled down before me on bended knee and within it’s presence the sounds of steady winds drifting in from the rhymes and...

I write this poem I write this poem as I have discovered the manhood of a journey and puberty of discovery; I write this poem with the breath of early summer winds...

A lazy day of summer is romancing tranquility as these thoughts formulate. My mind has becomes lost inside this abstract nature of poetic haze. Last night,...

I love the way the mind flows when it is zip lining through nature. Today I hike through the trees of Bloomfield’s side of Talcott Mountain— town incorporated...

I wonder what Langston Hughes would’ve done if there were no words – I wonder how he would’ve taught the world about deferred dreams if there was...

Trash filled truths cluttered along faded sidewalks laying still in motion begging to recapture decayed dreams from growling lampposts where hope once leaned; shattered...

So… he looked on, watching from afar the imagery of family. Now alone, sitting in place on an old cranky stubborn porch, eighty-one years of tears laughter...

Sometimes I sit and stare out my window wondering about how different life would’ve been for the reflection staring back at through life’s mirror. What...


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