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Mom:
I choose this poem to place first in Vaughn's writings because it relates so well to what he was like. Spring was a happy time for him. He loved to watch the trees blossom and the plants come to life. He loved to plant new things and watch them develop. Everything about the season seemed to offer new life, new adventure, a new beginning.
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I'm anxious for the Spring to come.
I want to see the blossoms And a white wrapped winter moment. There's uniqueness in a frigid frozen forest. But my heart is grieving And within my soul a quake Is near erupting in a pool Of lava - a hot and bubbly lake Restoring to the scene somehow A headbands sweaty crown.
It seems I'm out of place |
Mom:
How much Vaughn loved the spring and the sunshine.
and
He had a special relationship with growing things.
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I looked out to see the plants against the sky Reflected brilliantly as the wind blows by. No concern on the philosophies of men Nor what is right, nor what they ken. Trees care not of human reason Their one concern, 'What is the season?' |
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Vaughn wrote: "Several weeks ago these thoughts came and I did not write them down. Not much to them, but this is where they took me." "Notes on Thoughts" 19 December 1992 Fall's blanket rudely shades the weakening sun. Winter's cold turns down the light. And summer shivers out the door. If I could choose the day I come And then the day I go, It would be Spring. For growing life Is all aglow! There's nothing more That I can bring. |
Vaughn was in Washington DC for some US Geological Survey meetings and had the opportunity to visit many beautiful areas there. He received the impressions for the following poem while standing on the Duke Ellington Bridge in Washington DC . 6/27/79
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I looked below, away from the bridge. The trees and brush were soft and rolling. Two trees stood higher and were aware of me - So lovely and green, so full of cool spring. The sun had set, still there was light And those trees I could swear Were still aware That I was there. A single road passed through the scene And into a tunnel that could be seen, Within the green. Emerald brush helped cover the hill And with the trees brought a spectacular thrill. I breathed in the view which seemed so alive And longed to be part of that peaceful life. So, I climbed on the rail and thrust myself in I spread out my wings and swooped where I wanted I glided, I soared, I lived with a will - And I swept passed the road that entered the hill. I flew 'round the trees, passed the two that were special, Oh! I wanted to hug them! But didn't know how. Another deep breath was almost too much As I inhaled the peace of untroubled life. The love of God's world that one whiff could bring, And I thrilled and felt joy That at last it was spring. |
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A lilac has great beauty to see. Now, close your eyes and inhale deeply - A fourth dimension is singled out sweetly, In a world of darkness it still can be. But perfume of lilacs is an earthly thing That a world of ice can never bring. A clear cold stream flows over the earth Bringing new life to seeds in the ground, And the willows and flowers that here abound Fill the air with aromatic birth. But the smell of this scene, is an earthly thing That a world of ice can never bring. In spring, from Barrow to Fairbanks town I see the magic all around. And when again we're on the ground I savor life's fragrant living crown. But the bouquet of plants is an earthly thing That a world of ice can never bring.
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Men write about tripsz, And they write about mother They write about ships And even each other Their sweethearts have beauty No other can knock The odes just come pouring But -- not for a rock. Why not a rock? What's wrong with a rock? We throw them We kick them We pound them We split them. One killed Goliath There's even stone soup And he who ignores them Is really a dupe. Why a dupe? Because --- Folds in a rock become gems, (diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds) Then they are placed in rings, earrings, hatpins, broaches, on watchbands and --- In crowns for Kings and Queens. |
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Those granite clouds, Enlarged a thousand times, Give passing shade To all that gasp for breath. Intense the hues, Imbuing with a hope As lasting as Their brief respite from death. |
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Glistening walks and lanes of light Penetrate the heavy night, Flashing red lights of various hues Blurringly burst through falling dews. Groaning, moaning, with whispering sigh Hissing cars slither by. Cobra-like they hold your stare, And blur your vision everywhere. The night sky was hidden by a cotton fog And; white man-made lights fused over the bay Couples and groups on the warf sought grog And food and gifts or whatever may lay On the Warf now winter had waned away. The mood was happy with laughter and grins As cars inched in to the end of the pier Returning again after a brief spin But then one first provided the din Whether inside a shop with odd souvenirs Or dinning within and still caviler There were many restaurants on this limited walk |
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I felt disoriented A great loneliness And yet it was hard To concentrate, to know What it really was Because of noise outside. The motel was close To the road, of course, And the sound of trucks and cars As they blurred by ---- (Do you know a blurring sound? It's the sound of trucks and cars As they go by-----) Were injected as jarring static Upon my thoughts, To make them erratic. My loneliness was out of focus The sounds of people jumped as locusts Into my room---and world. Should I continue with this singleness? Record my notes of great import Writing down for those who've not been told? Or should I abandon all That's private and join the static That's outside my wall? Laughing, drinking, splashing, squeezing, (Thoughts of others -oh! So pleasing) And all are just outside my wall--- Just outside my wall! But no! It's just my luck This is my night to work! |
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Quiet! Quiet! It comes with blowing snow It bounces from the clouds and drenches Everything below. The thumping heartbeat from the shack Is barely trickling through the crack Of consciousness. Quiet! Quiet! The core of a starry night Enveloping, caressing, draining everything In sight. And even shrinking cowardly thoughts Refuse to surface through rare spots Of consciousness. Quiet! Quiet! It's part of jarring winds The whine, delusive dead'ning chatter That it spins. While gusts are vacuuming the brain Removing logic, love and any claim To consciousness. Quiet! Quiet! Quiet reigns supreme While barrenness, despair and death complete The theme. They issue edicts of equality And all must query the reality Of consciousness. |
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The ghostly night, With feeble light Awakening the snow, Hides well the fright Bound up so tight Of specters crouched down low. A shadow flees The mysteries Evading all that's bright. The gentle breeze Brings death's decrees With no one else in sight. When all is still There's one more kill And terror starts to tease. With mocking skill The fiend does fill And trust begins to freeze.
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The cold comes sifting 'round the door And cunningly covers all the floor, Then with a twisted smile it springs To higher planes and nobler things. Its numbing care it quietly brings To freezing fragile human beings. With loving strokes it gently clings, But deadly, surely, gives them wings. |
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The Artic darkness never ceases To fill the voids and blur the creases Of the mind. And if you're part of this great scheme Yours, too, is less, for it would seem Partly blind. Scanning , searching everywhere, Figures merging at your stare Make you wonder, 'Are they there?' But blackness drowns both friend and foe Forcing them to move more slow And cautious. What happened to the stars and moon? Have they gone to find the sun And left us here to all be one? (With total darkness?) Amorphous? The moon and stars were such good friends. I need them through the winter night. This endless, chilling winter fright! Yet now they're not in sight. Am I going blind? Or is it now my mind? (Thoughts eclipsed?) Perhaps this Artic hole Is ---my ----soul. Final draft Jan 1982 |
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The stars with light from the depth of space As a chorus mutely standing by Receive new visions in the sky. Respectfully they hold their place. Cleverly, silently it did appear, A tinge of green on gauze-like white, It sneaked across the Artic night A hundred kilometers out from here. Flicking it's tongue from North to South Testing the darkness and the cold (Sastrugi sent it here so bold) Everywhere it gapes it's mouth. Protons left, electrons right Knock every partner now in sight. Cascade your corner and make it frightening Allemander left as quick as lighting. No! No! No! No music there! That's only wild imagination Born of polar desperation And delivered by that ghostly glare. All sound here is made by man Whose light goes dim when heartbeat slackens But, that glow above only blackens When the unseen plasma says it can. Fleetingly it spreads a lie Continuing to torpify Teasing as it starts to cry Enlarging borders stretched on high Elusively it slithers by That sidewinder in the sky. Mocking us who live by feel Tricking those who think it's real! |
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The snow's alive with fireflies! Each beats its wings And quickly springs From view to view - Enticing --- and inviting Gently hypnotizing you. The snow's alive with fireflies! Though none the same They entertain In mute review - A random organized debut They unceasingly pursue. Their voice is still, but yet you thrill At friendliness They must possess - If just you knew! They seem so true Yet, never do they talk to you. If just one tinkle they would share A bell-like sound to tweak the air A single note to show they care. Oh God! They can do more than stare! With fiery dance and friendly stance They show their camaraderie! Lifeless crystals chilled clear through! From frozen dew! And, pluckless prisoners much like you ---- These silent sirens of the North. |
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The wind blows strong --- small ridges form To change the footing and trace the storm. Lessening briefly a lighter breeze Helps mask the edges while they freeze. Changing directions brings new lees, While cut and fill will tend to please Sastrugi! A sudden gust with devilish curls Gathers strength and snow and ice. With scorn The apparition formed unfurls A lifeless laugh. Behold! Sastrugi's born! Am I a God? (Now laugh!) Don't sell me short - In this frozen hell That God's abort I have more power Than any man So test me, tease me If you can. (Whatever goes wrong) Note* (Vaughn wrote) This (Is merely me singing) area needs (My favorite song.) work. I float and I freeze I can bring you to terror I'd make everyone here my standard bearer. He added at the end ---"very rough -change?" I am Sastrugi You didn't know me And that's the way (That's just the way) It had to be (It ought to be) (I want it to be) You're a fool to be in the Artic cold You think you're adventurous You think you're bold. One storm that I could cause to blow Would bury you all with freezing snow. With you're power out I bend you're will And that's the savory ultimate thrill. You laugh at me! I'm just a joke! But take a look! Who's carrying the yoke? Vaughn wrote - "needs work!" By the way-the word 'savory' means acceptable. Sastrugi sits and watches his brew (us brew) He laughs and laughs at both me and you! Because we're the meat of his polar stew. (his mischievous polar stew) Sastrugi, where are you, you little elf? Come out and show you're miserable self. I'm here in front of you, in back and at your side. Within and around you freezing your hide. Look close Mr. Scientist man Measure me with radar With a side-looking scan. Sort me out of your nets if you will Maybe I look like so much krill. (krill are small shrimp like creatures) Take my temperature Rutally, of course (rutally means a routine procedure) But be sure and record the actual source. You're thermisters won't really reach that low And, if supposing they did, How would you know? I'm amazed, I'm impressed I'm sure you've no peer But if you're so smart Then why are you here? When it comes to mankind You're a real disgrace (With ragged parka and hairy face) Just look at you! I rest my case! |
This next poem is very unfinished ---but ---well, I added it anyway. Date probably 1979
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In Katzebu I met a boy As I was walking through the town Waiting for a plane. Fish were hanging on lines and drying. As I took in this scene From the corner of my eye I saw the young lad spying On me. His mouth stretched wide With a friendly grin, showing teeth And spaces (where teeth had been). My pace was slowed and he fell in Behind me. "Whacha doin'? Where ya goin'?" He sniffed to slow the flow from nose to mouth. It didn't work but he kept trying. "I'm goin' back with you." He said matter of factly. ----- -----walk----- -------talk------ "I'm going back with you." ----------- ------------ ------------ "I'm going back with you." ------------- (similar comments-----------walking a ways and then tells the boy he can't go -----he seems to accept it) ------------ I may never go that way again But in Katzebu, for one brief Hour, he was my friend. |
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With butterball butts and bloated bellies They waddle to the campus scene. In the Sunday sun, safe from God At the local college set They mill around pushing food in their mouths Punishing inflated fronts Entertained to the brim by the pond'rous rise Of gala hot air balloons. In Bermuda shorts as overstuffed bags Straining at the seams, "Put a rope on daddy - he's floating away!" Fantastic what the Sabbath brings! Are these part of God's creation? Then some of the lesser kind When left to themselves They wonder and float For others to contain and bind. |
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The walk or race through life -
I find others who run much faster, some walk with
more grace. Many jump higher and pluck
the ripe fruit high in the trees. A few stop
to explain the forest to me as I concentrate
on a particular beauty - they sound and act
as if they know, yet I am only pondering.
Slowing down, in ignorance I view
each scene with a thankful eye.
I notice the haves, have left the forest.
Smiling I think, "But I've survived!" -or
Is it just my reluctance to cross the final line
To see if they are there?
1980
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Mirror, mirror, please don't shatter Till you tell them what's the matter. They looked at you with wondering - and So in love with what they saw. Now really, isn't what they see More likely what they want to be? They come to you with one eye blind With no perspective do they find Reflection starring back in kind. Their thoughts are surely plain to read "I am a truly noble stead!" Obviously it's clear to others That I stand higher than my brothers. My beauty's bulging at the seams Condescending to their dreams. Compare our minds now if you dare "A wit", they say and "come to share" ("A wit" you say are "come to share") Please tell them mirror (But others see you're half way there) They're half way there. |
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This is the only size I've had
The only one to make me glad.
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How can this pulse of time be slowed Until I can get in step? If only sleep were just a choice (For sleep should really be a choice!) And not a tax on living For tonight will never come again!!! |
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It was not sweet, There was no thrill Nor was it even peaceable With soft warm feet Regardless how she did entreat. And she is dead, she could not stay. Her lovely skin became all yellowed She aged ten years Each day she stayed And though we prayed And wiped our tears Prompted not by any fears But only sympathy for death unhallowed. Some say that on that day They'll kick and scream And fiercely fight So all within their sight Shall change their theme And hold in admirable esteem that fools. The Reaper is not held at bay The Reaper never comes to play Today he left with Mary Kay. Mary Kay has passed away She did not hesitate to leave She made the choice, (the choice she made) Then why the pain!! |
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I glanced at life and thought How meaningless it was . But it wasn't. I thought of hurt and pain And said, "How unnecessary". But they weren't. I looked at crippled living beings Unable to participate in much of life. I looked with pity and distaste--- With no real understanding. (thought of) And with anger exploded, "This accomplished nothing!" But it does. Glaring at injustices And humiliation endured By many who could not Do otherwise, I growled, "Life is not worth it! But it is. "It is not fair." I said For life is so cruel. To distribute so unevenly It's wealth, it's joys and comforts. But it is. Emotion swelled within my soul Stabbingly I pierced the view Of mercenary ghoulish men Injecting others with their venom And shouted, "They're worthless!" But they weren't. I looked within myself Observing what I could And realized I could not explain My own existence or reality. Is there purpose to my life? Other conclusions reached May of themselves be meaningless Unless I could answer such a question 'Yes', I could not give judgment to the others. But can I? |
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There was a stone that bore my name Important dates - my claim to fame, That seemed important then, somehow. My world was just a narrow one In space and time. And thoughts I spun Are all forgotten now. But everything was very real; Pain, joy and even terror I could feel, And when they clapped I also took a bow. Oh! Mortal man who's come to end, Whose spirit now goes where they send. Your flesh no longer do the bones endow. Well, don't you see? You're just like me, And time for you has ceased to be. Your stone will also soon be gone. I know, of course, how great you were; That all on earth would call you 'Sir', But your remains are less than yonder mastodon. Come now, to one equality; A new perspective soon you'll see Of all your upper-world phenomenon. Just bring your Book of Life to share, For all your secrets you must bare; There's no one here who can be called Anon. The crowd awaits! It's noise abates, With interest it anticipates! (expectantly anticipates) So, read the pages to them one by one. Remember, you're no power here. Your nakedness you need not fear; Unless, of course, for deeds that you have done. What's this? You say that you cannot read, That someone else must take your lead, And show the things you did were just for fun? Oh, no, it's really not allowed, And things for which you're nor so proud Must also be included in this run. How then should have spent your time, If not for pleasure all sublime? Is this a serious question that you pose? Your neighbors do not share your view And now will have no part of you; The door of their attention now they close. You're free, of course, to walk about, But none will talk to such a lout as you. You have the path you chose! To be ignored is your just sentence Until is seen enough repentance Your bones will rot just as they now repose! He said, "You don't think I'll shed a tear? There must be others to be near?" Who knows what death is meant to be? Nov 1979 Mom: He added some other notes at the bottom. They were: (Besides all here are much too rigid) He also made a note about adding more later. (Is there not more to death than this?) (Also - was there not more to life?) |
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The man was older now. His hair was white and his shoulders slightly bowed. My heart was warm as I recognized him, --a feeling of love for the remaining shell. But memory spilled over other thoughts of him that were justly critical. A professional man with self confidence marking his mien, and not unearned. A talented man, capable in his field ---and yet he'd 'leaned' on me. This recollection had marred my feeling; had tarnished but not destroyed respect. I asked myself "How should I feel?" Another question followed, "What besides your pride was hurt?" As I pondered, the answer came to learn from that experience, but don't abandon love! I objected, "I cannot judge the nature or character of man!" The answer came --- then learn! |
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Mom: This last poem was dated 6 Jan 1979. Vaughn had written a note along with it. I quote, "The idea is to present a number of incidents from which we can learn of life if we will ---- ------"these things shall give thee experience" D '&' C 121 |
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Web Author:Colette,Yvonne,Angela © 2006 Address:Angela - Muscatine, IA 52761 To reach me by E-mail:Angela [email protected]
Web Site: Marshall and Kay Family, Created April 26, 2006
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