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Follow Pathways

Anchor Lake rest stop Nov 1988


Do you take some satisfaction 

with limited interaction?

Do you enjoy gravitation 

that plays throughout situations? 


Follow pathways to understand 

until you vow you comprehend. 

Fill the shallows of hollow lands, 

before thinking of upper hands. 


Would you consider sensations 

that resist your integration? 

Would you drop your reparations 

faulty reason’s presentations? 


Follow pathways that enlighten, 

borrowing knowledge forgotten. 

Fill moments with satisfaction, 

building simple lone monuments.


Did you pause in recollection 

or think lengthy contemplation? 

Did you stop in pure wonderment 

in your fiery concentration? 


Follow pathways seldom taken. 

Do it without hesitation. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015


Terri Winter 1984d2


Blowing some zephyrs through my mind, 

bring me back to another time. 

Build me rainbows from my prism; 

I will create my own rhythm. 


Would you see jumbled shapes collide- 

an imagination resigned? 


Tangles of ideas clutter 

while cameras click and shutter. 

Tangles knotted in abstract shapes; 

pile the misnomer of mistakes. 


Will you know the curling writing 

that builds temples into siding? 


Float with me into setting suns; 

this reality has begun. 

Fly my mind into stark stillness; 

don’t beckon for unsound illness. 


Should I beg for your attention 

in your abject apprehension? 


Tangles sear in my waiting brain, 

noting pleasantness still remains. 

Tangles and figures in Nature 

could be my only savior. 


Could you perceive my lone designs 

that echo of when you were mine? 


Show me this kindness beyond now 

that eradicates hate somehow. 

Smile, for the tangles do have you; 

it’s I, who will now continue. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015

One And Only

Jim MI Jun 1988


Did you know you’re my one and only?


Picture time frozen and forgotten. 

Images flip forward in my mind. 

“Why?” I don’t know; it’s long begotten. 

Memories trip up in instant time, 

while promises long gone, now remind. 


Did you know you’re my one and only 

photographs from when I lived lonely? 


Songs reverberate the radio, 

playing our youth in mementos sung. 

Sound out the rhythm of concertos 

thumping on the dashboard off-key tunes, 

while enjoying minutes of joy rung. 


Did you know you’re my one and only 

time in stillness, life moves on homey?


T.M. Prada

Copyright © 2015

Dream Thing

Terri Winter 1984b2


It’s filled with souls, just too many to count. 

Living and gone, existence some renounced. 

Future and past tense, noise sounded, announced 

for reality teeters and surmounts. 


It’s a dream thing, remembering feelings 

that fill the heart, and sends the head reeling. 

It’s a dream thing, seeing faces of loved 

ones that gone for now, far, far, far, above. 


A dwelling of kindred my eyes beheld 

with heart breaks mounting as time ticked, and ebbed. 

Emotions rained, tear drops filled flower beds; 

still seconds lingered within me, and swelled. 


It’s a dream thing, remembering faces 

of those dear to my heart, and soul traces. 

Within my mind I hear their words dally, 

while the dream thing coalesces and rallies. 


The guardian threatens to banish me 

away from the gathering, in the trees. 

It appears striped, and full of entreaties  

that amuse and somewhat frightening me.


T.M. Prada

Copyright © 2015

Pretty Patience

Speed Star 1.1387447  00



Simulated statuary stalemates 

in the warm spring sunlight, streaming, statements. 

Would you whisper sonnets of innocence 

in times cooperating amulets? 

Or slowly wait on flipping butterflies, 

fluttering happily on quaint zephyrs? 


Pretty patience postulates penitence, 

dreaming petunias and patios. 

Should we create great sagas of heroes 

awaiting word in beaming, reticence? 

Or gradually slide to quarrel styles 

ringing booming voices for miles? 


Stimulated starlight struggles and stands, 

flowing particles still somewhat, stable. 

Could you croon songs, sounding adorable 

in words known that almost all understand? 

Or passively delay blooming roses 

motioning in daylight wilting poses? 


Pretty patience perturbs peak perspective, 

perpetuating perpetrators still. 

Will we pen poems arranged in such skills 

that echoes sadness in retrospectives? 

Or reluctantly fall for arguments 

that stifles life – merely, shifts and augments? 


Superficial supernovae swamps 

my creative imagination’s smiles. 

Do you sing songs of independent wiles 

filling memories that emit like lamps? 

Or pragmatically linger on whim 

with words spoken, spreading some satire thin? 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015

Paint It



Abstract in notion and new as the moon, 

build this emotion; give me some leg room. 

Glimpse my equation and fill paragraphs 

in styled sensations; construct petraglyphs. 


Paint me a picture or sketch charcoal skies 

in magnificence; craft me stanza fries 

unable to consume only one morsel. 

Paint me an omage; stitch blank tinsels. 


Hypothetical with reality 

boons stimulate me; give me quality. 

Glance my philosophy and determine 

truth throughout action makes your feet sanguine. 


Paint the universe or remote planets 

with bold acrylics; design stellar jets 

flying between worlds with dreamers aboard. 

Paint the moment with words that glide and soar. 


Imagination broadens elation, 

compose temptation’s evalutation. 

View my vantage and stimulate stations 

with star rotations; sing small orations. 


Paint it; the picture stirs for renewal 

that now begs, cries, and pleads to continue. 

Open your mind to untold creation; 

paint it. It acquiesces for completion. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015

Sunlight in the Universe

altered picture 12


Have you noticed emanations shining 

beams of starlight beyond the lithosphere? 

Sample systems mystery blinding 

in expectation of bright atmosphere. 


Illuminations create this blue world, 

bringing sunlight into the universe. 

Would you imagine life somehow absurd 

without my sunlight in the universe? 


Does all existence revolve around you 

entertaining nulling information? 

Or should we hold our breath for something new 

while redundancy holds simulations?


Fill my world with your loving, caring, words

creating sunlight in my universe. 

Singularities of adoring bards 

organize sunlight in the universe. 


Planets motionless for microseconds 

applaud audacity in emotion. 

Situated in thoughts wordsmiths beckon 

lovers of sunlight in their universe. 


T.M. Prada 

Copyright © 2015


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