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.

Tickle Me Mystically

Mystical Miss Tickle's place is 
where linguistic type, and spaces 
represent gapped smiles on faces; 
tongues in cheeks no more withstanding 
men, despite their bites demanding 
consequence of tensions mounting. 
One, two, three - Some come while counting. 

Miss Tickle demands her due too; 
by eloquence of mention through you. 
Though I've known such feat of mention 
relative to hypertension, 
feet may meet what's paved by walking. 
Tongues aren't always just for talking.