Prose Knows

 

 

What becomes it shows

as Heaven or Hell doth knows

Its light brightly glows

as often as Pinocchio's nose grows

switching scents from sulphur to rose

buried inside one's Sunday's Best clothes

Fond goodbyes still felt and heard through bellows

As lowered gently to earth-wormed hellos

Covered are any signs of your prestigious halo

along with a spit or a smile they flow

If peace can be felt down below

may sorrow be stopped with a resounding, "No!"

A lawyer's vault holds the prose

as was written while on functioning toes

In due time, may there be primrose

beckoning yellows in highs and lows

Kneel and kiss me do impose

For I promise nothing will be remain morose

 

Reviews

[.]

. ah, beautiful ... epic ... exotic ... and with an amazing last line and title ... super gifted you are ... and i don't know if i've said this often enough ... but incredibly versatile ... every time i read you ... i see that ... and yet ... your distinct poetic voice resounds in each poem ...