[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

Fair's fair:


And last, and least, here lies Jerry
Who never tried to publish
We brought his carcass here to bury
midst all his written rubbish.


*grin*

[This message has been edited by Jerry Glenn Hartwig (edited November 22, 2006).]

[Janet Kenny]

Originally posted by Carol Taylor:
She never could leave well alone;
she changed her poems from day to day
and couldn't put the things away.
They're finished now. She's dead and gone.

Until some spotty student thesis
rendered her her exegesis.
Studied now by those who rule,
posthumous fame has made her cool.

[Terese Coe]

Cryonics Request

He said to his wife
with one last wheeze,
I'll come back to life
but remember to freeze
my sorry ass
and defrost me, ok?

She turned on the gas
and called it a day.
(Couldn't make ice
by herself, and the cash
meant more merchandise.)
He'll smell better as ash.


Terese




[This message has been edited by Terese Coe (edited November 23, 2006).]

[Roger Slater]

From cradle to grave, I passed my days.
The former beats the latter.
And yet Ecclesiastics says
it's only the last days that matter.

For one inside the grave it's not
good policy to differ,
yet in the grave one tends to rot
and the mattress is much stiffer.

[Marion Shore]

Johnny Damon's Epitaph

Here lies the Benedict Arnold
of baseball. Now, no doubt,
the devil stands on the pitcher's mound
striking Johnny out.

[Roger Slater]

Here lies Richard Cheney,
at long last in repose.
As his heart gave out, he cried,
"Death's in its final throes."



[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited November 24, 2006).]

[Janet Kenny]

Here lies fortune’s fashion failure.
He dressed to advertise Australia.
Akubra hat and Drizabone
condemned John Howard to sleep alone.

[Robert Meyer]

Here lies Robert. My,
you're taking it in stride:
guess it's one less guy
you'd have to crit and guide.

Robert Meyer

[Michael Cantor]

An Exultant Metricist

Unable to scribble a thing but Iambic,
I'm pleased to report that I've broken new ground -
what's happening now surely tempers the tragic:
I finally have gotten to two meters down.



[This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited November 25, 2006).]

[Diana B]

A Dead Drunk

God rest his soul, he popped his clog
whilst peering down the open bog:
The bender’s skull was made to crack
because the toilet seat fell – smack!


[This message has been edited by Diana B (edited November 26, 2006).]