Wendell L. Vaughan

Lakewood, Colorado

I am reti red from the church ministry. I did my college work at Drury College, Springfield, Missouri, and my years in seminary at Brite Divinity School, Texas Christian University, Ft. Worth, Texas. I have been writing for a year and a half, I began writing with t he National Library of Poetry in May 1996, I had not been published previously, Music has for years my "first love," classical music, especially opera. Amazingly, I have discovered another love in writing. Through it, I have found new ways of thinking and looking at things, ways I had never known before.

STILL BORN THINGS

God has a very special place for stillborn things;
The little things t hat were- but could not be:

The little song no singer ever sings,
so ne'er on mortal ears to ring.

The good intentions well meant, but gone awry.
The gentle smile that fades just short of human eye.

The look of hurt upon a face, not seen or understood.
The anguished cry of a lonely heart lived out in solitude.

The "I love you" not quite reaching loving ears.
The secret tear that could have changed the years.

Yes, God has a very special place fo r these-
the stillborn things-
these things too deep for human tears.

God smiles- then weeps
And o' so tenderly He lays them back to rest- for He
He knows the pain of things that could not be.

Neurons and Melody

Trash the brain-
and mind and soul are forever gone!
For thought must have
it's neuroned path to trod.
Smash flute-
and melody softly fades away.
For music must have
reed and string to throb.

But, what if heart
have reason of it's own?
And mind
play brain as music instrument?
Smashed flute-
does that mean
smashed melody as well?
But hark!
On evening breeze, I swear,
that self - same melody is sent!

Sarajevo

The Balkan Queen in '84,
Decked out in splendor and galore,
With Olympian fever running high,
White Christmas M ountains towering nigh.

The scene again in '94,
A plundered hell-o'grief dolor!
Olympian gold now turned to rust;
White ski slopes black with guns and dust.

epilogue
The play's the same,
Personnae too.
But script has changed
With pipers new.

It's sports or war,
The choice is clear-
Set pipers free,
More guns and fear.