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Patient Pillows



The view seems odd, to say the least, 

a movement in bed, among sheets. 

Stay moments during these hours, 

simply being in the towers. 


Do you know patient pillows, 

who steeps in herb teas and billows? 

Do you see patient pillows, 

beckoning for home and windows? 


Beautiful daydreams or ids, 

piling nightmares under closed lids.

Could you remember reflections, 

awaiting through interaction. 


Patient pillows sees you here, 

wiping away the standing tears. 

Would you know patient pillows 

who’s missing flourescent rainbows? 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015

Patient Pillows

Please, Please

Terri & Jim Perrault June 1984


Another strike against me now, 
I guess I’m wrong to feel somehow. 
Doing a favor and expected still, 
the pain of loss, a jagged pill. 
Please, please bring it back to me 
the childhood I’ve lost repeatedly. 
Please, please understand me now 
that written words work better somehow. 
Slap my mind another time; 
the abuse of loss stinging signs. 
I made the mistake to assume 
that we’re on the same page continued.
Please, please come back to me 
that simple era of sincerity. 
Please, please heal my wounded pride, 
where my childhood once resided. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright  2015
Please, Please

Long Gone



Like the tear rolling down my cheek, 
briefly here, and now gone. 
I miss you everyday of the given week, 
and more on your birthday.
Long gone in terms of years and decades; 
love lost in seconds and minutes. 
Long gone styles of your ego’s facades, 
it echoes like punishment in tender hearts. 
Please remember me when I’m lost and silent, 
for the weeping will soon be forgotten. 
Think of those lessons you think as stupid, 
since I’m older and wear my heart on my sleeve. 
Long gone, but still ever-present in my life, 
your words echo in my mind. 
Long gone are the lessons I taught as a wife, 
and mother once kind,
now wounded by design. 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2015 
Long Gone

Color My Soul



Dripping dew nearing summer, gentle dusk, 

petals fold in delicate brevity. 

Thinking of lilies, a genuine rush, 

reminds me of gifts and sincerity. 


Starlight dances in sunless, midnight, skies, 

pretending some familiarity. 

Forget those long ago promising lies, 

that depend upon sworn longevity.


Paint my soul in purples and lavender, 

reassuring my mind’s lost memories. 

Color my soul in pale and pastel, manners,

blooming amidst daffodil energies. 


Scout for delinquent, grand, delicacies, 

gourmet in texture, fiber, and timber. 

Limit distance for more intricacies, 

noticing fantastic movements, limber. 


Dawning slowly in informational, 

intellect, the student emerges new. 

Dancing through moments educational, 

she endures more lessons to continue. 


Color my soul with inspiration abound, 

singing songs, painting, and moving around. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015 

Color My Soul




The wheels are now attached 

blending motion somehow. 

Driving through those sunsets 

adventure never rests. 


Bring back moments long past 

that I desired to last. 

Celebrate freedom too 

memories continue. 


Could we take that slow ride 

across the world’s round side? 

Are you my love born free 

living our lives happy? 


Balance worlds on two wheels; 

sensations you don’t steal. 

Dare life to extinguish 

between words of English. 


Roll over lands unconquered 

in dreams unsequestered. 

Wheels in circular flow 

built this world; don’t you know? 


Can we climb into wheels 

that deliver what’s real? 

Will love witness this stain 

removing bugs with rain? 


Bring me for drives today 

to futures, far away. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015 


Forget-Me-Not Blues

Forget-Me-Not Blue


Beautiful in periwinkle 

on starlit nights, amidst navy skies. 

Tiny, petite, spring, blossoms twinkle 

dew, gently opening petal eyes. 


Do you remember that color blue 

that catches in the mind, so, so true? 

Cerulean the forgotten hue 

tumbles glitter in waters near you.


Bearded irises flaunt indigo 

in sunlight accessed by hummingbirds. 

Spirited away moments ago,

as if by celestial cloud herds. 


Do you know the forget-me-not blues, 

that delights the minds to continue? 

Sapphires sparkle as ice in stones too, 

while young girls their princes’ love grew. 


Cobalt and ultramarine berries 

ripen in August heat-cleared, sunshine. 

Pick them fast now; quickly, please hurry, 

for they’ll disappear for jams and wines. 


Can you taste the forget-me-not blues 

that tantalize your life in all hues? 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015 

Forget-Me-Not Blues

Haunted Dreams



In a post-apocalyptic world, 

a pre-destined, pre-assigned, planned time, 

I dreamed of monsters sunborn, unfurled, 

spawned, maladjusted, and pre-designed. 


In a haunted land with ghostly shades, 

my thoughts drifted, daydreams laid and stayed. 

In haunted dreams of shadow-like tales, 

my children slept corrupted; I wailed. 


In Greco inspired walls of paper 

dazzling in resign, I stood dazed. 

Motives majestic like rapiers, 

I lost my places almost amazed. 


Laughter echoed from enchanted rooms, 

walls, and doors of this house all entombed. 

Storybooks captured souls, now somehow doomed, 

creating torture in woven looms. 


In haunted dreams of sad, ill-repute, 

my mind screamed, painfully, in dispute.

Those haunted dreams in need of reboots,

tempt me to sleep, dreaming continues.


In a present-day, forgotten world 

filled with animals confined to words, 

presumes a fencer of different swords, 

genetically altering birds. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015

Eric Schlehlein, Author/Freelance writer

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