Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form 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 are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Stupid Presents

I reside in Perryville.
 But for writing notes, I'd be very still.
 For I am there, writing notes right now;
 not still. My will and words allow

 that, at this time, you read what's written
 by such as me, a true nitwit smitten;
who puts on screen this stuff to read
for whoever may feel a true nitwit need.

I'm not very clever, nor truly that smart.
My IQ, when measured, falls right off the chart,
which leaves me confused. So, I use what I know
to do what I can, then my dumbness won’t show.

Any peace of mind I may find, here or there,
is posed in the prose and the poems I share.
So, if I've a gift for portraying my presence
in rhyme, at this time, consider Forrest Gump’s essence.