Passerby, tell Michael he's
a little off in counting, please.
The fingers on a partial hand
can count to four, promoting "and."
If he can write a headless line
he surely ought to honor mine.

A Memorial Over an Urn

Here lies the Forum Poet; ne’er to rot
His words live on, although his body’s ashed.
And never will his poems be forgot.
As long as Google lives, his posts are cached.

A Memorial Over a Folgers Can

The Forum Critic flopped; here lies the man.
We barely fit his ashes in this can.
His bulk is gone; his spirit’s not departed.
It lives on in the flame wars he has started.

A Memorial Over a Mayonnaise Jar

Here lies the Lurker, never to log in.
He did no goodly deed, nor did he sin.
He came, he saw, did nothing. All the same,
The rock is blank. He had no username.


Revision:

A Memorial Over an Urn

Here lies the Forum Poet, ne’er to rot.
His words live on, although his body’s ashes.
And never will his poems be forgot.
His post remain, unless the server crashes.

A Memorial Over a Mayonnaise Jar

"Here lies the Lurker, never to log in.
He did no goodly deed, nor did he sin.
He came, he saw, did nothing, kinda lame."
The rest is blank. He had no username.


[This message has been edited by Eric Hendrixson (edited June 09, 2007).]

Here lies the auditor, and may God bless
This good, true servant of the IRS.
He now takes up his pencil and begins
To calculate deductions on his sins.

I liked the Fogler's can one, Eric!


It Happens to the Best of Us

He was the best until the germs
Got into him and made him fall.
"I won the world," he told the worms,
But they don't hear that well at all.

"Michael," the wrathful ghost did thunder,
"To chide my feet is quite a blunder
when those same feet are six feet under."

It seems her life was just rehearsal
for a metrical reversal.
"Did thunder" really should be "thundered",
even if you're six feet undered.

......The Connoisseur

The Master wields his critical currycomb
......with infinite care,
proving that charity begins at home--
......and sometimes stays there.

......The Actor's Last Bow

Tonight was the end of the run.
Though I was the feature, the fun-
eral’s over and finished and done.

Before I died, and went to hell,
I had this stone set here to tell
You, though I went ahead of you,
It won't be long till you're gone, too.

Though I am dead and with old Nick
in H-E-double-hockey-sticks,
don't grieve too much, oh comrades dear--
before too long, you'll join me here.