It’s good for all, and good for me–
this mingling of prose and poetry.
It clangs the muse’s golden bell
(Listen closely, it rings for thee!)
A prose of trees, a poet’s rose,
a merging of our friends and foes.
It shakes the siren’s wintered call
and into existence rightly throws.
Posets and proems proudly pace
among faux words inside this place.
It wakens the writer’s giggly scribe.
(and sanity leaves without a trace).
Truth be told, or is, as such.
The difference between isn’t much.
I could draw a line, but it’d be light–
Visible only by rainbow-touch.
The warning, brought by warm sea gust,
says poet-rose and prose-tree must
never be planted too far apart,
or all their fruits will turn to dust.
What do you prefer? Poetry? Prose? Prose-like poetry? Poetic prose?
(For those of you crazy enough to enjoy my poetry, you can now easily find it by going here , or by visiting the “browse by” page to see some other types of posts that have appeared here. https://rarasaur.wordpress.com/browse/ )