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.


I’m thinking about some of the things that I’ve said. 
As letters I’ve written formed words in your head,
 it’s possible that they may not have made much sense,
 perused here, presumably, in your own present tense,
and their reading might’ve caused you to ask yourself why.
  Then, when searching for answers, to look to the sky,
  the planets, the stars, and the expanse of it all,
 so that when you looked back, you could find yourself, small.
So small, in fact, that you’d have stood on a word,
 as soft sounds found pleasing resounded, and heard
  all the words, and the sounds that resound when said 
by those one supposes are still living, and not dead.

 Consider word rhythms, and what they can do 
in terms simply written, and rhymed just for you.
 Consider rhymes written, with words in between.
Consider this content like you know what I mean.

 Then, as you consider these things in your head, 
perhaps you'll take one more thing yet to be said
 into consideration, as our course has been set.
 A plan has been hatched, and a wager is bet.
 Invest yourself now, and the attention you pay,
 to laughter hereafter. Now, go have a great day.