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.

Two Points

The fresh tilled earth in Spring
smells of Death. Before planting
Baby's breath beside the Roses,
then watering with rubber hoses,
consider points this prose poem poses:

Think past the point of no return,
to the point of Death. Suppose an urn
is earned in earnest, as is its ashes,
as a reward for living. The giving of cash is
in fashion, as passions convey sending sappy
prose poetry your way, ending happy.