[Roger Slater]

How do I love thee? Here's my list:
I love thee when I'm being kissed,
When ecstacies and passions mount:
I love thee most when losing count.

[Marion Shore]

Bob, I like your erotic take on EBB! I was working along the same lines, but mine was dirtier....too dirty to post.

[Marion Shore]

Tell me where they all have gone,
those ladies who lived long ago:
Queen and harlot, saint and nun.
Prince, they're gone, like last year's snow.

[Roger Slater]

Thanks, Marion. I've been enjoying yours. Keep them coming!


In Memoriam

If there are saints and gods, I call 'em
To assist my search for rhymes
Repeating half a zillion times:
I miss you, Arthur Henry Hallam.

[George Simmers]

The Waste Land

April’s cruel. London’s unreal,
And it's awful what the cards reveal.
A clerk gets in a typist’s panties.
Drowning’s bad. Let's all sing shantihs.

[Lance Levens]

I'm a watcher, a man without a gut,
my every phrase an "if" or "but,"
etherized so I won't scream
when The Possum says it's time to cut.

[Roger Slater]

Good one, George.


*
Looking at this urn I see
Truth and Beauty are the same,
But if that's so, I wonder why
They do not share a single name?

[John Whitworth]

You must know this one. But perhaps some people don't:

Gods chase
Round vase.
What say?
What play?
Don't know.
Nice though.

[Jayne Osborn]

Remember - 4 lines only, John.

[Roger Slater]

The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —
And that's why I don't go outside—
Much any more —