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.

Mouse Trapped


We build with blocks of time, as our hours
often softly pass. Flowers 
bloom, and rooms are filled with friends.
Then, snap. A trap descends. Amends 
are made for games played, won and lost,
owing to the price each life cost.

Eschew any issues ushered in 
to where the weary, wearing thin 
pajamas, yammer on about 
death. It will tax your ears, no doubt. 

I'm the mouse trapped in your amazing 
mind. I find myself here, gazing 
on everything dear nearby, grazing 
on grass as I pass, knowing 
we belong here, growing.