Poem By Wendell L. Vaughan

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.

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.

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Other poems of WENDELL L. VAUGHAN

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,

Neurons And Melody

Trash the brain-
and mind and soul are forever gone!
For thought must have
it's neuroned path to trod.