RSS Feed

Somewhere In The Middle

I’ve been thinking of the sunlight in your eyes,

and the way you always sympathize.

I’ve been dreaming of the stars in your tears,

that have mingled with these many years.

I’ve been wondering why you never held me near,

or the words you love you hold so dear.


It’s not in the stars so near and far

or behind the wheel of your favorite car.

It’s not the loss that holds your love at bay

or in the emotions you can’t convey.

It’s in the words you say to me,

in the language and motions I can see.


Life isn’t easy and love is hard.

Life doesn’t promise you a greeting card.

Love isn’t promised in battered life,

unless it’s showed in struggling strife.

Can you believe in me? Can you just a little?

Or somewhere in the middle?


I’ve been dreaming of you again,

of the love you said you’d send.

I’ve been thinking of dreams in my mind,

something here of another design.

I’ve been wondering where you are right now,

and if you’re living inside a cell.


It’s not the days ignore my pain,

or the line that my tears stain.

It’s not fleeting time so long lost,

where your memories have all been tossed.

It’s in the time you spend with me

and the laughs of quality.


Love isn’t easy and life is hard,

not really shown in the stars.

Life is promised to show you love,

that’ll fit you like a glove.

Can you love me just a little?

And meet me somewhere in the middle?


Terri M. Prada

Copyright © 2019

The Death Bringers

Perched on a tree outside the window
a supposed owl stares at the widow.
She cries softly moaning out loud
as the bird screeches and fluffs its cowl.
Moving quickly along the roof-line,
I see it shift into something feline.
It screeches as my eyes follows its slide
along the roof it seemed to hide.
It stopped at once noticing my surprise
that someone had witnessed its surmise.
I watched it shift into something not human
but its shape assumed that of a man.
Glancing to my audience I asked if they see;
the widow’s eyes grew wide and empty.
Collapsing to the floor she fell in a heap,
while a frigid chill passed over me.
The death bringers visited a few that day,
and my surgery put on a delay.
I said a prayer that my soul would be safe,
since the death bringers came my way.
I wanted my life every single day.
T.M. Prada
January 16th, 2017
Copyright 2017

Rules Of Estrangement

The Rules of Estrangement
are written very clear.
They’re not an arrangement
to quench your fears.
The child feels threatened
with their small years,
which fails to be greatened
like broken cogs and gears.
Building bridges to reason
that crumble to the ground,
are the growing of seasons
playing god to the crowds.
The rules of estrangement
are drawn and incomplete,
since many engagements
will dance and compete.
The mother weeps and sighs
between gasps of pain,
which her broken heart pines
for her children’s disdain.
Birthing the babe in trimesters
of school work and lore
the woman creates listeners
to her life of rigid gore.
The rules of estrangement
are written as such.
My thanks for your engrossment.
Yes, thank you very much.
T.M. Prada
December 27th, 2016
Copyright 2016

Sight Unseen



Dreams beholden to the dreamer,
concluding in silvery wrappers
of pleasing thoughts and screamers,
that elude the most crafty schemers.
Could you believe sight unseen
no picture on television screens
capturing moments in between
here and movement of star beams?
Stellar movements go to extremes;
gravity reigning ultimately supreme
in satisfaction of physics schemes
universal models showing scenes.
Could you have seen faithful times
images moving through telephone lines
in infinite binary and cosmic designs
that colluded into primitive signs?
Night skies fill with light shows anew;
scientific minds fly to the rescue,
dancing in atmospheric retinue,
and explaining wonder to continue.
Could you know sight unseen
construction in minute teams,
galaxies building millions of means
in math and physics inside dreams?
Could live sight unseen in ambivalence
of the hyperspace happenstance
in fiction’s fantasy and science?
Could sight unseen give a chance?
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016

The Girl That Glowed

She doesn’t quite understand
why others would growl demands
that she think like they do.
Would they if in her shoes?
Glowing from the afterthought
she never knew how to stop.
They want her to believe like they do
labeling her an ignorant fool.
She is the girl that glowed
an emblem heaven bestowed.
Close your weary eyes and feel
her glowing love now revealed.
College brought her around
to visions beyond the crowd.
Her mind expanded another view
that life was much more continued.
She is the girl that glowed
celestial gifts now behold.
See beyond this limited hold
and feel what she’s been told.
Nature’s daughter builds her life
without hate, famine, or strife.
Understand the gift she now holds
and receive love from the girl that glows.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016




Please don’t speak to me
about the lacking possibilities.
Please don’t tell me I’m wrong
when I play my own song.
Do you know my name
could be spoken the same?
I don’t want your reasons
in any of the given seasons.
I don’t need to hear your reasons
for your life you’ve been pleasing.
It seems I’m waiting for the fall,
not really making sense of it all.
Yesterday slips further away
while living for each new day.
Will you see my hurried way
or taste Autumn’s next stage?
I don’t need to hear it anymore;
your reasoning’s going out the door.
I don’t need your varied excuses
and your reasoning of dying muses.
Build up your wall of resistance
that holds on to my persistence.
Can you see my vision’s reason
or will I tumble into teasing?
Could you understand my given reason?
Could you estimate the season?
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
Written November 14th, 2016

Hop Aboard

Hop aboard; let’s go for a ride.
Take me to the other side
of reality. It’ll jive out wide
if you brought your stride.
Take a look at my smile,
If you can stop a while.
It wouldn’t hurt your style
to move along for just a mile.
Hop aboard this instance of love;
you can ascend or rise above
your reality. It won’t take a shove
if you fit it like a glove.
Dream of me in this moment
a blip in time so solvent
that escapes the evolving present.
It’ll move to transcendence.
Hop aboard the giving heart,
that evades without being torn apart
in this reality. It’s stealthy in part
like an ever swimming shark.
Fill me with ever present glee,
a part of your proud history.
Stories spread of the mythology
of when your sincerity came to me.
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2016
Written September 22nd, 2016
Shreya Vikram

Blurring the lines between poetry and prose


treading the path un-trodden

@ bittersweet diary

Floating thoughts, A place where my beautifully weird thoughts floating around in my mind are posted.


Let Your Eyes Do The Talking...

The Naga

Critical. Crazy. Catastrophic.

Heartstring Eulogies

Conjured by Sarah Doughty

Frank Solanki

If you want to be a hero well just follow me

Natalie Breuer

Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.


let the conversation begin


A topnotch site


Fun for the whole asylum!

A Papua New Guinean's photographic perspective of Calgary and Southern Alberta. All pictures are mine unless stated otherwise! TY

Kira's Hymn

hoping for more - with Kira Shymn

Richard M. Ankers - Author

I write because I must

unbolt me

the literary asylum

%d bloggers like this: