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.

Ma Belle

My audience is intimate to many, so I hear
ringing, as if singing an angel’s praises here were clear,
and heard in every word you read. I write, and might suggest  
supersonic phonics say, “My Angel is the best
mother.” Although other mothers surely fair quite well,
they are not in this room, nor do I shudder when they yell.

 No man is an isle, and for most of their lives, 
some will have friends, while the others have wives 
to fill spaces where friends would have been, 
had nary they tarried to marry. Amen.