Never know how much I love you, Prose

never know how much writers care

when you enclose me in your open arms

you give me heat to write and flare

sky’s the limit, I’m not censored

fellow writers flash daytime with ideas

Prose flames moonlight by its challenges

guides me along the fire of promise

shared with group of fevered creators

gypsy souls intensify my imagination

roll my verve down flamed inspiration

flared open to suggestions and thoughts

Prose exposes me to delirium of my essence

encourages me to strike in new directions

I light up when I call the name of Prose

because I know that it will treat me right

now you know how much I love you

igniting creativity until I glow my torch.

Sung to the tune of "Fever"

I have a place to make my words public.

You have a place to read my words, if you wish.

You have a place to ignore what I have to say, if you wish.

You can disagree with any or everything I have written.

I can disagree with any or everything you have written.

All without force. All by choice.

Keep Prose forever the way it is right now.

What theProse.com means to me is difficult to put into words... It's a feeling. Something beyond taste or touch. Of course, I see and even hear the writes, but admittedly, am made aware of the limitations of these as such. No, it's a totally different sensation that I experience at Prose. It's a sense of Being... like in tune, in sight... yes, in mind.

I don't perceive the Prose as a site at all really. True, it has its corporate address in Washington State. It has its online url, and I do, of course, have my own modest pages located here among thousands of others. Nevertheless I think of Prose as more of a... Guild. It's its own little society that does not preclude any other virtual presence. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and various writer's sites that can be found by running a google search, have their extension here. Though for me, all of these others somehow miss the Goldilock's factor. They're too big, too small... just not right. There may be a flood of feeds (by necessity dismissed) or a sorry separation with everyone as if closed off in virtual cubicles, isolated not because there is no potential for feedback, but because the participatory effort is not consistently there. In short, they don't sustain my interest.

That is why by contrast, I see the Prose as a community, rather than a website. Sure there is a similar postal exchange (things are uploaded, revised, etc.). But these are the mechanics of any communication... what the Prose has is a friendly collegial family atmosphere. Exchanges, challenges, supportive commentaries, substantive arguments evolve on a daily basis with participants of assorted backgrounds. There is a constant curiosity. And all are welcome to join in the conversation at any moment.

I do have Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn... but it's Prose that I turn to daily. It has me laughing when I awake in the morning and thinking dynamically throughout the day and sharing without unnecessary hesitations— when the concrete circle around me is busy with prosaic affairs, I have this precious oasis in which to wonder at what creativity other's are engaged in; to contemplate, read, comment, debate on a wide array of ideas that somehow, regrettably, have little interest/ value in a world that is woefully predominantly preoccupied with a daily squeeze of "earning a living," and just "getting by." 

In this gathering, I have been wonderfully blessed to have made connections with other writers — not virtual— but actual, by text posts, audio links, video casts, and even face to face. It's the people, first and foremost that define an enterprise. The people at Prose are committed to fully taking part in the magic of writing in all its various forms and purposes of dialogue: from contemplating the seemingly mundane, to informing, to dream weaving....

That is what makes the collective at Prose such a very special place in my heart and mind.

#WhatThisSiteMeansToYou #Challenge

This site is creative sustenance. It's like the last bit of buttered popcorn at the bottom of the tub, when all life seems to be handing out are charred, unpopped kernels and used Justin Bieber CDs. It's a way to see and be seen. It's as if Casey Kasem were still alive... but this Top {insert number} is for interesting, up-and-coming writers, and I get to pick my own music.

Active participation in this site is like cultivating the soil of the Brazilian Pampas. It's a fertile place to learn and grow. It's like a hillock in a meadow--conspicuous, but in a good way. Sometimes, I even get bits of feedback, even if I'd rather just get that little heart. (Egad! Honesty?) It's encouragement, entertainment, engagement, and advertisement all rolled into one like a four-cheese quesadilla.

I for one am glad to be here.