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.

Bird Brains

To be a nice man
with such a nice house,
I do what I can. 

I'm not known to grouse,
or pigeon, or other fowl word,
when my goose is cooking
and my poultry's absurd,
So, thank you for looking:

Twinkle, little starlings. Sing!
Your songs belong to daylight. Bring
the notes that float my thoughts of the
bows you now allow me see;
each bow a perch in a poet's tree.

Faster, Pastors! Sing your songs!
People harken! A Lark belongs
in trees like these, and chests! A jest
suggests these things! So sing your best
jokes in spoken words. Then, nest.

Black of cloak, and skin so pink
those Orange legs look funny! Think
beak, and speak thy word of laughter!
Silly goose, let loose a gaff for
seeing me, here, happily ever after.