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Whispered Memories

St Louis River, Forbes, MN June 1989


The image comes from time vaguely, 
a moment evoked almost sagely. 
I remember it on lifted sighs 
from moments of days gone by. 
Currents through time ripple away, 
building vibrations in words you say. 
Could there be an altered course 
that conducts waves by no force? 
Remembering lost day dreams 
in removed whispered memories, 
I hope for a chance that screams. 
Find those whispered memories. 
Breezes drift in fragmented time 
something of my mind’s design. 
Would you erect better intentions 
the appetite for certain destruction? 
Memorialize my name in proper tenses 
beyond what’s felt with all your senses. 
Silent terms flutter in between 
passages that hide from the scene. 
Reminisce on those impressions 
in stolen whispered memories. 
Create a world of imagination 
that retrieves whispered memories. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2015 
Whispered Memories




Melodious momentum 
doesn’t always arrive 
in time of doubt and trust. 
I knew I couldn’t strive 
in moments of inspiration… 
and disappointment. 
Doubt has a way of moving about, 
when humans are on the way out, 
kicking and building all the while 
into expressions of pain with a smile. 
In moments of doubt my heart breaks , 
while pain takes on a life; 
it builds with and without any ease, 
until it’s no longer contrived, 
or created of aspiration… 
and anointment. 
T.M. Prada
Copyright © 2015 

Perilous Ports



Brigands and sailors alike 
hide and frolic on the side. 
Ships docked and moored, 
bring in the boom; 
give me some room 
in this perilous port. 
The web post tunes the tech 
who’s hopping on the internet. 
One could use PC or Apple 
going smoother than a Snapple. 
Hope your firewall is stronger 
while perilous ports ping longer. 
My mind takes me on the side 
which differs, but coincides. 
The side of ship refers
as like you’re describing rivers. 
Begin the song you understand 
when the perilous port misses sands. 
Remove at once this perilous port 
that attaches the IV of sorts. 
A stream which flows into bodies 
that breaks the sickness monotony, 
it contains the important fluids 
bringing life through ports to it. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2015 
Perilous Ports




Skin bubbles with heat,
an allergic response, 
which annoys the hairs, 
beating follicles in happenstance. 
Sunlight resists in between 
the moments of summer stances. 
Burnt. Burnt. Burnt. 
Bread crinkles in dryness 
toasting between coils and plates. 
A moment longer in wryness 
it turns charcoal, now a distaste. 
The electricity crackles softly 
while smoke fills listlessly. 
Burnt. Burnt. Burnt. 
Energy is growing dim sadly, 
nearing critical departure point. 
Oozing out of my pores daily, 
I move hoping to recover and anoints 
my soul for this moment, 
while realizing the exhaustion is here to stay. 
Burnt out. Burnt out. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2015 

A Little Reality



Blinking back destiny with a little reality, 
could you understand painful sanity 
when it welds with my life, really? 
Bouncing through my uncertainty 
I see just a little relativity. 
Waking in this life just a bit late. 
Is there a moment you can relate? 
My baby fills her life with song 
needing the sense, wanting to belong, 
and patiently seeing her plight wrong. 
I’m thinking of a little reality. 
Would you believe it insanity, 
or should I renounce that quality? 
Flipping through the pages of duality 
I center on my paused electricity. 
Building my movement through quiet 
another quotation may cause riots. 
My muted journey transfers through rhythm, 
a sentence or line in a forgotten hymn. 
Can’t I just say that I win?
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2015 
A Little Reality


South Moon Lake Summer 1988


Better get a cracking. 
There are safe locks, 
peppercorns, and kernels 
that need some hacking. 
What is your breaking point? 
Hide your technology 
from the criminal savvy. 
Don’t leave yourself behind 
waiting for instinct in modern signs. 
Better watch your footing 
in an uneven life path. 
Leading adventurers awry 
one should avoid the shootings. 
What is your expectation? 
Simply stylize your emotions 
that cannot quote your notions. 
Don’t fall those steps behind 
waiting on leaders from another time. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright © 2015 




Brilliance blinked today, again,  
like tiny decimals in night skies. 
You asked me for my love 
which I gave so freely, 
without anything hoping to gain. 
Brilliance shown on this spot 
a microscopic, universal dot. 
Brilliance balanced throughout time 
within and without any designs. 
Single tear drops twinkle within my eyes 
like pinpoints of distant starlight. 
Dreaming of you loving me 
stings tear drops upon lids and cheeks. 
I think no; be a little wise. 
Brilliance gleamed in this spot 
a glimmer of aware starlit dots. 
Brilliance beckoned in this time 
according to my own designs. 
Brilliant blues blend emotions anew 
thinking of skies in different tones. 
You promised me the moon and stars, 
but riddled my soul with vivid scars, 
feelings of betrayal wash violet hues. 
T.M. Prada 
Copyright  2015 
raven shianne


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