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Braver Than Most

Posted on
Brockway Mt. 1
 
 
Climbing ethereal calm 
my heart fulfills simple needs. 
As poems or quiet psalms 
the nature builds to complete. 
 
Make this promise to your soul 
if you’re now braver than most. 
Would you consider life’s toll 
if you weren’t braver than most? 
 
Building promise in between 
happenings not more savored, 
dullards reside in blank scenes 
for unrequited favors. 
 
The champion happens by 
many times braver than most. 
Will the master win this time 
being now braver than most? 
 
Dreaming concludes, determined 
for the victor’s single code, 
and fulfilling art designed 
idealists receive toasts. 
 
Unduly, this artist hones 
this craft, thought braver than most. 
Should we believe and atone 
for rare tact braver than most? 
 
Imagine now the artist 
takes all despite promises, 
for those others can’t resist 
pure idle daliances. 
 
Outnumbered creators thrive 
and desire braver than most. 
Be virtuoso contrived 
and alive braver than most. 
 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2014

Earth Whispers

Posted on
 Storm Clouds
 
Light flashes in iridescence, 
zephyrs whipping into maelstroms. 
A flash branches pure opulence, 
while drops rush in from the rainstorm. 
 
Earth whispers in her sounded key 
allowing for the fine orchestra. 
The earth whispers dampened melee,
continuing for silenced awes.
 
Thunder booms through the distances 
filling the air with damp sulphur. 
Taste some electrical dances 
static erupting in brief tenure. 
 
Earth whispers inside calms and lulls 
through championed base and drumming. 
This earth whispers in plaintive pulls, 
complaints of mistreatment echoing. 
 
Winds die, as do bees on flowers, 
stirring restrained tear drops again. 
Downpours move past on its powers, 
breathing fresh life barely attained. 
 
The earth whispers; give a listen 
before passing contained judgement. 
Can’t you hear the earth loud whispers 
to stop sorrowful destruction?
 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2014

To Say The Least

Posted on
M3367S-4504
 
Scintillating to say the least, 
exasperating at the most, 
never expecting a repeat 
I refrain from another boast. 
Would you spend seconds relating 
or refuse, now contemplating? 
 
The lily grows inside the years 
not witnessing in between modes 
the rivers of forgotten tears 
or reading my words felt remote. 
Stimulate my senses golden 
with energy new emboldened. 
 
Calculating to say the least, 
manipulating at the most, 
sometimes irritating retreats, 
creates and burns, or even roasts. 
Should I pretend minutes ahead 
 of the expected tears to shed? 
 
Lilies bloom in spite of wishes 
counter to its natural gleam, 
competing with summer ditches 
a bloom in lupine colored dreams. 
Correlate my senses broadened 
for inspiration begotten. 
 
Iterating to say the least, 
articulating at the most, 
while reverberating tweets, 
again a flower garden host. 
Would you view life unexpected, 
explore lilies introspective?
 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014

Autumn Wisps

Posted on
Side Lake Sept. 03
 
Laughing with intent of glee 
I find you following me. 
Would you complete words or lines 
which compete for my designs? 
Fill with filtered energy 
in concept like herbal teas. 
 
Light flutters through falling eaves 
enticing broad painted leaves. 
Salty smokey scented birch 
climb memories with a lurch. 
Autumn wisps make entreaties 
to souls of lost victories.
 
Follow the laughter in pain 
that adjusts for your disdain. 
Could captions build reverie 
on victims of centuries? 
Capture the life that escaped 
like blessed tinctures tossed in haste. 
 
Memories scamper in time 
where spectators fail resigns. 
Scents of hay fill sun dipped rooms 
while childhood meets its new doom. 
Autumn wisps cling to this life 
while movements slow more confined. 
 
My journey pleads exposure 
while the urge grows much stronger. 
Should we fill each others’ shoes 
with regrets now continued?
Plead your case for maturity; 
my heart dies from scrutiny. 
 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014

These Tears

Posted on
michigan trip waterfall
 
Minnesota inclusion 
hasty ceded seclusion 
secular spaced confusion 
not really a solution. 
 
Would you know trails of these tears 
that separated the years? 
It comes with mass confusion 
given the old illusions. 
 
Intense known isolation 
becomes my main temptation 
with hidden revelation 
in this sad situation. 
 
Would you know resolution 
with the river of my tears? 
Woah-  oh-  oh 
Oh-  oh-  oh- 
 
Forgotten little children 
another generation 
watching our world in decline. 
Woah-  oh-  oh-
 
Can’t you see my temptation 
for intense isolation 
before the revolution 
for valued condemnation? 
 
Walls of grandest graffiti 
not written on completely 
whispered another question 
in need of more corrections. 
 
Can you see the course of tears 
combined with heartfelt lone fears 
in collection and arrears 
these past many awful years? 
 
Pictures of rebellion 
in a closeted nation 
calls for more contemplation 
instead of isolation. 
 
Can you see me in the now 
traveling all alone somehow 
within the mass confusion 
devoid of all illusion 
in and amidst careful tears? 
 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2014

Samantha’s Summons Chapter One (a few paragraphs)

Posted on

image_44575109_1

 

Her sandy blonde hair swished back from her face as the breeze blew past her; her green and tan almond-shaped eyes teared with moisture. Anxiety and calmness fought within her slender form each striving to egg her on simultaneously into action. Glancing around her, she briefly questioned her sanity.

Samantha studied the swirling cloud within the tree. Peering into the mist within, she allowed it to pull her through. Curiosity always her problem- how does this apply? Just turning twelve, why couldn’t mom stop worrying and stop treating her like a child? Sure, she liked to play, but when was it okay for her mom to accept her not playing with dolls. She collected, preened, and displayed them, but when did she last play with them? It seemed like years ago. Now she wanted to explore new places. Never in her vast daydreams did she expect to find this world waiting for her, calling out to her. “Mom should understand. Shouldn’t she?” her thoughts queried suddenly.

It seems they didn’t talk much anymore. They lived in uneasy acceptance of one another’s differences. Mom always feared losing her since Dad died. Then everybody else seemed to die within the family accept her mom’s brother, whom they never visited anymore. They were alone, utterly alone. Loneliness crept in to depress, causing unhappy emotions. No one guessed that the small happy family lived in such despair. Or was it that way these days?

T.M. Prada

Copyright © 2014

Plain Jane

Posted on

michigan trip 03

 

She sighed sadly listening to her boss Aleace, explain the elimination of her job.  Jane couldn’t understand how it could be happening. “I thought you wanted me permanently. How could my job be gone? Who’ll do my job? How will the work get done? Jane asked confused.

Aleace looked at Jane frustrated, saying, “It’s not my decision, Jane. The library has run out of money. At least, you have your husband and kids.”

“But… I need this job. I live this job.”

“I’m sorry Jane. My hands are tied,” Aleace added, then walked from Jane’s office.

Sighing, Jane packed her things, left work, and sat in her car sobbing. While driving home, she stopped at a roadside rest area watching the wind move through the nearby birch trees. Climbing from her plain white Taurus, she stood staring at the birds twittering happily in the trees. Noticing the blossoms and fresh grass near the path leading to the pond beyond, she tasted the wind.

Breathing deeply, she sighed. “My job isn’t what I am,” she concluded. Plopping down on a log, she removed a note pad and a plain pen from her purse. Doodling whimsically, she noticed a slight ball of light and roughly drew a dragonfly. She placed the doodled page under a rock, while watching two robins singing to each other, and saying, “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

A soft whisper blew past her ear. “Thank you.”

Jane turned back, hearing laughter carry away the piece of paper in the wind with the small ball of light. “come back, please,” she said, a tear standing in her eye.

Just then, a small figure appeared before her dressed in green and smelling of lilies. “What do you require?” he asked joyfully.

“Time and attention. Could we share both?” she asked sadly.

“Jane we are always here for you. All you must do is seek us out. We shall attend to you when you need us,” he said smiling. The leaves rustled in the trees. The scent of salty birch filled the air. “What do you require?”

“Love. This Plain Jane requires love and there is a short supply for me. I will give enough for the world.”

“And you will receive,” the elf said, while other entities enveloped Jane as flowers erupted from the ground around them and waves of happiness moved through the small wooded area.

T.M. Prada

Copyright © 2007

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