Write Tim's resignation letter: trimeter or dimeter, no more than eight lines.

http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/ubbhtm...ML/000632.html

I haven't the heart David.

Hail and farewell,
I've had enough
of ditties written
off the cuff.

I'll miss, however,
Roger Slater,
so it's not 'good-bye'
but 'see you later.'

or maybe

A moderator knows:
all in moderation.
That's the way it goes.
So here's my resignation.

I'll post as a civilian.
It's not like I am dead.
Alex, thanks a million.
And now please lock this thread.



[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited April 20, 2006).]

Excellent, Rob.

I should say (since a couple of people have asked) that Tim Murphy, brave gentleman that he is, is on board for this.

The expectation's for something witty in the style of Murphy. Lyrical, contemplative or vituperative are OK, but nothing personal, of course.

Lariat’s Release

With rawhide and rhyme
I served my time,
but one last grouse
with a final flap
having broken cover,
I follow my spouse
off the map,
my sentence over.

Not playing by the rules, but hey! At least I'm playing.


The Deep End's getting on my nerves—
the metrical morasses,
the kiwi and bananapests
and assonantal masses.

Synecdoche and simile
are mother's milk to me,
but folks who don't know goose from grouse
are like a parody.

A bunch of sheltered urbans
who don't know tough from tender,
syllepsis from prolepsis,
or jacking off from gender.


With my best to Tim,

Terese

Havest of Sorrows

Imagining Eratosphere sans Tim

Cadences broken
and confidence shaken,
the act of creation
performed by a cretin.

epigone

My Westminster is loaded.
I've mended all my sails.
Winds up! Out on the ocean
who hears the sirens' wails?

I love you still, Erato;
your dreaded Deep End board.
But too much pizzicato
may even pain The Lord.

Leaving a fallow field
to hoe a stony plot
I pray the flint will yield
the words that I forgot.

The Skipper's blog?
Ignored. And yet,
I'll not forget
that hunting dog.

Robert Meyer