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In Your Clutches



He promises to fix the car,
an auto that takes them far.
It stays in the garage,
hoping not for a fight or barrage.
This isn’t a bit too much,
just replace the clutch.
In your clutches…
In your clutches…
The damsel dreams of escaping,
dragons or nightmares pacing.
Another dilemma builds and crashes
She’s in the villain’s clutches;
Sighing and estimating the matches
she’d fight to escape his clutches.
In your clutches…
In your clutches…
Male birds fly, dive, and dance,
hoping for any given chance
being the one she chooses.
Since he struts his stuff,
striving to father he clutches.
Shouldn’t dragons have clutches?
In your clutches…
In your clutches…
Oh, for a dragon’s clutches.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
May 19th, 2016

Wilderness Of Daydreams



Piercing poetics please my tongue
with undying melodies sung.
Would you know the rhythms
that build between the tones
of cresting waves inside my tomes?
Lives of wonder fill my dreams
with places and moments ripped at seams;
anticipation goes in between.
Will the moment build the scenes
of life in the wilderness of daydreams?
The trees fill my sense with happiness,
leaving or losing fills me with sadness.
Could you know the silliness?
Rocks and gems fill my imagining
with a supposed life happening.
Lives of horror fill my slumbering mind
although creating the sublime,
going forward there’s no rewind.
Living isn’t what reality seems,
experiencing the wilderness of daydreams.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
May 15th, 2016




She never understood the stories
of forgotten, untamed glories.
It never captured her soul
to be out of control.
She started her days
in dead, boring ways
that kills the personal
with droll seasonals.
Building through adaptation
she goes through life in motions,
and never-ending the serious
she won’t examine the mysterious.
He works the mines all day
living for that union pay.
Not thinking, just doing,
he builds dreams in moving.
Does he think of histories
or life’s little mysteries
that creates a world of quest
bringing out life at its best?
Adapting through building
he lives on just willing.
His job is that serious,
so he’ll deny the mysterious.
Give to me the mysterious.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
March 12th, 2016

Fae Legions



The fairy queen has beckoned
for those close to their mother.
She shops for children reckoned
from the impending Fall discovered.
Building armies of workers
like bees hovering in corners,
signify anticipated donors
of legions inside the flowers.
Notice the Fae legions
hiding for real reasons
from unbelievers dreaming
of taking this world scheming.
The fear is now rising
while the wonder builds.
There’s no sense in hiding
from the watchers and guilds.
See them as they really are
Fae citizens among the masses.
Could you be on, a real star,
moving along, with overt classes?
Do you see the Fae legions
peeking at your shadow beacons
in ever dangerous beams
of innocent day dreams?
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
February 21st, 2016


Have you based words in meters,
rhythm, and rhyme, moving teeters?
Do you know why I query
as if you understand my story?
Meters come in measured tenses
wielding unequivocal lenses.
Meters measure out in miles
building into and turning styles.
Have you sung your song in phrases,
beats that link through the fazes?
Do you hear my rhetoric
that blurts off in the poetic?
Meters measured in the heat
just like that, electricity.
Meters list your energy
consumed in your history.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016

Ideas Fell

10348709_1107161129316213_2170815564552021446_oDid you fell the tree
in the forest of love?
Did you know what fell?
Did you yearn for a yell?
The moment, to me, falls
to know some or all
of the story so small.
Should I forestall?
Ideas fell into the void,
which, silly me, wants to avoid.
Ideas fell like raindrops
next to this big drop-off.
Did you understand my question
is not a query in absentia?
Do you know who fell
as love loosened its grip before all?
The seconds tick by for millennia
playing with memories and dementia.
Would you now understand
where I make my stand?
Ideas fell where you are now;
they scraped their knees, if you recall.
Ideas fell in between my tears
held back for these many years.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016

Expose My Soul

Bump up the volume,
scream the guitars,
and vamp out the tune,
filling the room with stars.
Build the momentum
to set the beat;
rhythm grips the drums,
filling the seats.
Expose my soul
to rock and roll.
Single out this toll,
playing that rock and roll.
Vibrate the floors
until my heart soars,
blasting through those doors,
and pulling for some more.
Sing in vibrato
or second soprano,
maybe a quid pro quo,
singing you know?
Expose my soul
to rock and roll –
just another soul,
needing rock and roll.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
Richard M. Ankers

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