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.

The Crucible

Steel this poem, forged in thoughts 
of stolen moments, pleasures bought 
with time, like I am spending rending 
rhymes sublime, as patent pending 
mending plates turn hate to reason. 
Please read reasoned words, or these on 
what I'm not, but was, because of 
what I am - one man; one cause, love.