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.

#Goodbye Me

Stop by me a moment now, 
for thinking past. Remember how 
you were before. You wore love, sent 
by listening along, a covenant 
of cemented sounds of soul, 
bound unto the heart you stole, 
and wore uncaringly on your sleeve. 

Take every thought you bore, and leave 
unfettered, flawless, falling. Falling fast, 
as if the gift for thinking past 
were passed between us, unseen somehow. 
So, stop. Buy me a moment. Now, 
afford this rhyme some time, repeating 
every word hashtagged, worth tweeting.