[Marion Shore]

Originally Posted by Michael Cantor

Here we go - four pages of them from a 2007 thread (and a surprising number are personal epitaphs -even facing death, we appear to be obsessed with ourselves.)

http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/showth...hlight=epitaph

Behold this decomposing verse
torn from its archived plot--
Perhaps we would be none the worse
had it been left to rot.



Uh oh. Here we go again!


Here lies an aging Boomer;
his ponytail was grey.
He warned his kids against the things
he once did every day.

And though he drove a Beemer,
we trust he rose on high
in a painted Bug to that
soul picnic in the sky.

[Mike Todd]

Here I Lie

But don't be fooled. I wrote this miles away
In a beer garden on a sunny day,

Inspired by a most healthy sense of self.
When I got home, I put it on the shelf.

[Roger Slater]

If some day it comes to pass
you happen to exhume me,
would it be too much to ask
my next grave be more roomy?

[Roger Slater]

In advance I paid a mint
for upkeep of this stone.
Visitor, was I deceived?
Has all my grass been mown?

[Petra Norr]

.
Here among the rows
of old and weathered stones
is a promise of new bones.
This modern grave and pretty wreath
boast a Live Cam underneath –
watch me decompose!
.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Here lies John Whitworth.
Was all of his shit worth
Such Kentish ignominy?
Say an In nomine . . .

Sorry, John. I couldn't resist that!

[R. S. Gwynn]

Here at rest lies Michael Cantor,
Once a raver, once a ranter.
Let the silence of this ground
Keep him far from sight and sound.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Though Roger Slater
Won't come by later
To visit his plot,
He's not forgot.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Mike Todd
Has gone to God.
Mike is not amused
At being refused.

[R. S. Gwynn]

Here lie the bones of Orwin Acra,
Whose store of phosphate has been agri-
Culturally added to the weight
That Bryant said shared every fate.

[See "Thanatopsis"]