If there could be a place where love lives,
it would be here, in this almost surreal
portrait of life. Hot coffee steams against the fabric
of our lips but it is this supreme view

of sparkling skies amongst the glitter
of ocean eyes that is caffeinating our hearts
as we, the soul of two lovers, walk this path
with silence but communicate through the common
desire of this moment.

Indeed, if Mother Nature was a poet
she wrote this so beautifully; the way the sea perfectly
illuminates the daylight of serenity;

the way the Sun reaches down layering
pavements and seaside structures with a unique warmth
curing a slightly damp chilliness spit by the winds
of time

and the way these minutes seem to resonate
in the fragrance of stillness as on this day

Marginal way has captured me again magnifying
the minds romance with nature and the delicious
feel of relaxation. On this path there are many aromas
of smiles as the beauty of relationships of all flavors

are explored and brought together by the currents
of time. Many generations have inhaled here and many
futures will exhale this magnificent capture

and I, we and they are the present movements
drifting through this path of forever.
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

fuels the stillness of time.

Here, in the outskirts of the city,
smooth transitions of the mind are comfortable
as I absorb the decay of another day. This is new for me/
these surroundings that are decorated

in the brightest of summer green. There is heroism
within these trees that have stood sturdy
over decades of years, growing tall in the energy
of earth’s tears. They are resilient monuments of nature

as they dance in the soft music of slight winds
that whisper the sounds of a dream. And then there
is the sky, naked to the eye, a portrait of pleasure;
a canvas one can only treasure. It begins its transformation,

drifting in its elegance into the warm evening.
Clouds become playful as the decadence of a light blue
darkens and gives way to the bright spiral of gold
as it descends behind the façade

of suburbia.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Soon, the traffic will rise — tempered
as it grows in size
steadily drifting through the warmth
of morning’s sunrise
into the shadows of overcast trees
where singing birds fly

and soon there will be the joy in a child’s eye
awakening the silence of urban playgrounds
with joyous cries

shifting time through the beauty and magic
of nature’s surprise

as summer in the city
sighs –

a new day .
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

as I drive this road. The trees still glisten
in the early mist of mid-summer’s dew
as the slight silence of the sun begins to peek
through into another day anew. I love this feeling –

how the breeze sprays steadily against the waking
of my thoughts. A peaceful energy roams the fussy streets
now busy with the employees of life

who are focused in their travels towards destinations of hesitation.
I am one of them, hypnotized
by this everyday process but yet, aware
of these surroundings I cruise through daily, sometimes barley

paying attention to the elemental beauty
of a small town new to my existence but still listens
to the way I think. Often it is just me, this road and observance
with nothing between us except the same ole’ songs
playing on the radio. The urban ego in me

is not use to this kind of quiet. On each side of the road,
in its eleven minute stretch from South to East Windsor, there are free standing

forms of agriculture mixed with fields of tobacco
and decades of corn fields weaving and bobbing
in the slight wind caused by traffic
and in in my rear view window the many mixtures
of gray are opening up to an elegant shade
of blue.

As the suburban romance fades, I discover…this is that something
that happens daily to make our lives poetic

and on this morning in Windsor I feel the poetry
breathing through me.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

as I reflect. I was once a young man stuck inside the neglect
of the true feelings of love. I never allowed my heart
to rise above society’s cruelty
and contribution towards external shame. And on a day like today
I found myself and took the blame;

I took the blame for not feeling the heat wave
of emotion that was hidden inside
for all those moments I cried. I had no one to confide –
the silent pain that grew within
this skin of silhouettes

was blind of a face; an empty canvas of identity
trying too hard to blend in with what they call normal.

I needed to escape to be me; I needed to break away
from a secret lie and embrace everything I was meant
to be – like the seeds of these flowers in my surroundings

I found a way to blossom
into the meanings of a man
nurtured through the nectar of strength.

And it was a day like today that summer winds released my
freedom,

so I write this poem in celebration
of  awakening through the nakedness internal victory.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

in his voice, as his raspy cough briefly interrupted the moment,
was the song of an elderly man missing the days of innocence
but briefly in this time, in the sight of the young boy
he now studied from across the street
he saw a familiarity. His vision saw support and togetherness;

his hearing heard the song of compassion
and in the charcoaled flavored heat, his heart felt
what he thought was forgotten;

the genius and destiny of hope. In his life he has seen
once inspiring brick-layered sidewalks become the mask
of crime that has kidnapped a neighborhood once
proud. He has seen the dreams of children become temporarily
paralyzed by the heights of poverty and many visions
of fear. He watched in silence over all these years

but the tears of his mind has always been vocal.

The shackles
of osteoarthritis that now held on to his bones and the slight
battle with old-aged deafness that now challenged
the vibration of harmony and not even the parade
of high blood pressure marching through his veins
could keep him from feeling the pain and decay

of days passed. But as he looked on at the sight
of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill; as he looked on
at the pleasantries of young and old joining in good times
and fun playing the games of life; as he looked on
and lived again through the body language of the young boy
who now looked back at him

he saw the glimpse of renewal in a community
holding on to the aspects of a neighborhood’s inheritance.
For the first time in many decades, he saw the enjoyment
in dancing trees that waltzed in the breezes of tomorrow;
he felt shades of sweat trickle down his bronzed almond skin
that was the welcomed condensation of happiness
and he smelled a renewed energy of genetic fortitude
that was family all in the aroma of summer cooking –

and so…he dreamed on.
Tarringo T. Vaughan
© 2012

“An artist must be free to choose what he does, certainly, but he must also never be afraid to do what he might choose”
― Langston Hughes

Today a poem surrendered to my thoughts. I found it early
this morning while driving 72 miles per hour in the middle
lane down 91 South – just twelve minutes from the Massachusetts border.
It weaved its way through my mind as I got caught up
in a brief clutter of traffic just before exit 47E. It distracted
me into a daze as pissed off drivers behind me became
angry poems – the stories that bitch and complain when read
just the right way – and sleepy truck drivers became dream poems
weaving between the lines of life awake enough to make
the safe poems nervous. It was one of those days
that everything around me became a canvas and I, the artist,
turned aspects of nothing into masterpieces of creativity.
I found the poetry in the way the birds taunted the sky
with elegant forms of ballet, drifting in a summer wind
freshly admired by the duality of tempered clouds blanketing
a half hidden sun. I could’ve chosen to allow today
to filter in misery – I could’ve flowed with the traffic
and paid no mind to the immigration of trees that have jumped
the borders of nature onto city lines of beeping horns
and the raging hormones of adolescent architecture. Today
this poem became part of me before the day had chance to yawn.
Today I was inspired
driving down the highway of life.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan