[Roger Slater]

I'm itchy, stiff, my back is sore,
so spurn the gifts I gave.
Nothing now would please me more
than turning in my grave.

[Donna English]

This one's for me.


Buried here, beside her mare,
Equestrian extraordinaire.
Alas, she spurred her brave steed on
Despite the cliff, now both are gone.

[Frank Hubeny]

He was fabulously infamous.
Now he is down below.
So come and spit upon his grave.
Come rant your broken heart out--rave,
But he will never know.

[Frank Hubeny]

Death put an end to my rash quest
For meaning--Meaning: all the best
Of what I found was like this rhyme
That teased me just to waste my time.

[Janet Kenny]

In death as life I have the final word.
I was a critic. Now I lie interred.

edited to make less in your face. Thanks Jerry. Lines reversed as suggested.



[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited May 16, 2007).]

[Janet Kenny]

Here lies a joke misunderstood
By someone who was dull but good.
Well bred, it showed good taste and died
So virtue was not mortified.
Heroic joke, it stopped the rumour
That virtue lacked a sense of humour.

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

Janet - may I offer a crit / suggestion, to suggest another meaning for 'lie'?

In death as life I have the final word.
I was a critic. Now I lie interred.

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

The Klutzy Agnostic

Damned if I didn’t
trip and hit
my head on the pavement
- damned if I did.

I thought I was cured of these. Back to the shrink.

[Frank Hubeny]

I rushed the car ahead of me
To move its butt a bit.
It braked. I was too rushed to see
Those bright red lights I hit.

[Frank Hubeny]

At fifty-eight, Viagra strong
And ready, he was firm and long.
His steroids charged with his brave heart
And died from push-ups on a tart.