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.

Aces

This service is to God, see!
So begins my reverence for oddly 
tennis sounding references, deferential 
to this rhyming man's potential 
meaning, while leaning on a wooden racquet.
See it raised, and hear me crack it.

Think of a ‘service’ in this way,
and all the words you read will say 
“Zero”. Near you, zooming past 
reach, are each and every fast 
moving thought that you ought not hit, 
as if to do so meant to quit 
on yourself, because that’s the lesson 
here. The yellow sphere was my profession 
once upon a time. Put to best use,
these rhymes make my meaning less obtuse 
for you to read. Concede the point 
that maybe, if you played me, joint 
custody of what you see would prove 
what it means for you to be “Loved”! 

Should someone say that such play 
reflects conjecture, then refined faces 
would see no need to question the deed, 
because they'd been defined as “Aces”!