RSS Feed




Are you just moments in history, 
a masterpiece inside time and place? 
Could you tell another sweet story 
that moves within towards a replace? 
Time coasts fluid throughout substances, 
thoughts of no consequence, instances. 
Billow the sails of remembrances 
while ringing bells still resemblances. 
Does the ambience fill the small voids 
retaining spaces within your heart? 
Should we smile although feeling annoyed 
at similarities where we start? 
Seconds dash among limited stints 
and measured moments gesture sly hints. 
Blow the foghorn in remembrances 
when we pause at these happenstances. 
Would relationships blossom anew 
wherever we slip, filling our lives? 
Will these days become any rescue 
to monotonous unending rides? 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2014


Those Times



Icy droplets on my spine 
tingles jumping and reminds 
me of moments on rewind 
teasing touches as your signs. 
Would you fondly remember 
the nights I cried for your love? 
Those times are just an ember 
burnt on piles of leaves above. 
Dew sprinkles in cooler air 
lands on places unaware 
of sensations in despair 
my mind erases those cares. 
Should we laugh along the way 
of simple single passages? 
Those times amuse and portrays 
clues in longing messages. 
Wispy winds circle around 
leaving wounds without a sound, 
and trickling hints abound 
in heaps of leaflets and mounds. 
Will you accompany dreams 
that builds life’s happinesses? 
Those times build cross beams 
that streams across canvasses. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2014




Peer into the reflective piece 
another blanket in 2-D. 
Would you know the differences, 
the visual realm’s distances 
pretending problems on spaces? 
Is the question mode of places? 
Live for today, many come say, 
and tomorrow, without sorrow. 
Look beneath the aqua surface, 
the glassy plane giving chase. 
Will you understand knowing need 
for the independent mind’s seed 
which grows learning, as it now feeds? 
Could you assimilate the deeds? 
Live to love, as many would shove, 
without it care for those who share. 
Observe the splendor of starlight, 
view of obscurity tonight. 
Should this minute in space and time, 
remove one from this state of mind, 
distilling images resigned? 
Can we draw pictures on design? 
Live this moment, as if solvent 
in time requite, without your spite. 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014


Speak Well



Quickly quiet your hurried mind 
and question the humblest thoughts. 
Are you observing at this time 
or your intentions overwrought? 
Tell me your inner mind without 
pausing on your inside designs. 
Speak well, what isn’t any shouts 
besides what you’ve resigned. 
Rapidly request given realms 
for relinquished dreams in transit. 
Does this alert others to elms 
whistling songs into the winds? 
Whisper to the child within ranks 
sporting flowers for love’s whimsy. 
Speak well, what doesn’t frighten, shrinks 
into blackness grown more flimsy. 
Promptly please paradoxicals,  
promoting life in pretenses. 
Did the song promise love’s total 
unrequited pleasure senses? 
Talk in words of understanding, 
translating life’s misconceptions. 
Speak well your unknown lamenting, 
holding unto my attention. 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014

Idle Moments




Blast the grey, depressed clouds asunder 
into time best always forgotten. 
The memories aren’t meant for plunder 
while alive we save the downtrodden. 
Would you give your power unwanted 
to Big money that dwells undaunted? 
She’s asking for my return to Her; 
amidst the idle moments crawling, 
my minutes as poet and writer, 
I feel her kneeling down and calling. 
Could you rally to Her cause, falling 
for the love of Mother, and stalling?
“Plant your seeds in my earth,” she beckons 
Her children to return and charges 
to become of the Earth’s own legion. 
“Reaping is your gift, as they are wages.” 
Will you receive this relationship 
as a means for unchallenged kinship? 
She’s begging for our return to Her; 
shape idle moments endearingly 
while considering your common terms. 
I feel pulling towards Her, clearly. 
Do you think past selfishness clauses 
in your deference and time pauses? 
Bring up argument as terms draw near; 
the banner unfurled for battle at dawn, 
She whispers names of the chosen dear -
ones that will represent Her as fawns. 
Did you answer Her or sadly fail 
to feel the connection to the grail? 
T.M. Prada
Copyright  2014


Build Me

Beautiful enchanted dreamland 
where time ceases to exist, true. 
You show pictures and lies like sand 
sifting in riverbeds on through. 
Build me the castle from times gone, 
that imprisons the faithless cruel.
With towers of emerald stones 
build me a fortress on rescue. 
Misty mountains’ boggy inlets 
whisper to me of long ago. 
Mystical places shown hamlets 
that vibrate sound like sad echoes. 
Build me a past where lifetimes bounce 
through passages of cool marble. 
Connect resolute pour through clouds 
building a history table. 
Twilight forest glen constructed 
of minute traces of magic, 
resonate in me contracted, 
and resides Nature’s calm logic. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2014

Rips And Tears

IMG_0004 (2)
Whispering softly gentle zephyrs 
and speaking my name again through tears, 
Mother beckoned me in dreams, like spurs, 
“Why have you forsaken me these years?” 
I cried aloud without any sound,  
the pain growing into rips and tears. 
My mind screaming, verbally aloud, 
and collapsing into rips and tears. 
Hair standing fully at attention 
and heart breaking from saddened weeping, 
my mind felt loving consolation, 
she said, “I forbid any reaping.” 
Salty water streamed my distraught face 
while breaths exhaled into rips and tears. 
Heart breaking although rushing a race, 
life coalesced into rips and tears. 
Standing solidly, weak all at once; 
her love in creation now required 
to build relationships in ounces, 
for she is all happiness desired. 
Opening arms and heart, now embraced 
reception beckons from rips and tears. 
Give all and receive, all will erased, 
in emotions of love’s rips and tears. 
Deceive not yourself of conception 
of bonding with “The Whole” of Nature. 
For your role on this Earth’s deception 
multiplies with denial tinctures.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014


Internationally Unrelated

Just international stuff

The Fickle Heartbeat

A blog about love or lack thereof

Dan Frugalberg

Life lived simply


thoughts from the forest


Listen with the Heart, Express with the Soul

Madstoffa's crunchy house!

Part time actor, aspiring writer of poetry and prose and full-time idiot with a heart.

No Tall Stories

A blog for short story writers, poets and readers.

New Website @


Kevin Westphal

Writer. Poet. Husband.

Just a Little Background Noise 2.0

a linguistic representation of an autism

Talking to the Clouds

poetry, photography, and life according to me

Gatsby's Abandoned Children

poetry + traveling / Jeremiah Walton

∙ tenderheartmusings ∙

we were born naked onto the page of existence; with nothing but the pen of our soul to write ourselves into eternal ecstasy ~ DreamingBear Baraka Kanaan

Poesy plus Polemics

Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy

Stranger Than Fiction

the truth always is

c.elich krumpelt nelson (c.e.k. Nelson)

Poetry and art creating awareness for all

Daily (w)rite

A Daily Ritual of Writing


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 233 other followers

%d bloggers like this: