Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we
propose to posit prose poetry,
forming forms of continuous connectivity
to communicate considerable
contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you'll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft we've wrought, and revealed thusly;
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

A Humble Word

I wish my words could run and row; 
could toss and tumble to and fro 
as if each word be thought carefree 
as any word could ever be 
when written by someone like me 
who stumbles on the words we see 
like this one coming up right here. Please 
look it up, and think it clearly 
meant to run and row past you; 
to toss and tumble like you do, 
or once did. [Ibid.] Think past the age 
when words thusly written on a page 
meant something solid, like a sage 
wrote something famous. Now I rage, 
and rant! I can't, with all my might, 
contain my thoughts. And so, I write.  

I ramble now, but will not tire 
until I think that I've inspired 
your confidence in little words 
like to and fro, the two you heard 
go tumbling thusly, carefree by. 
I'm glad we gave this verse a try. 
So, just before we say goodbye, 
that word I wished you - Humble.  

It's simply mentioned to show my few 
humble words tumbling humbly by you.