[Maryann Corbett]

I'll just pass on this post from the Turco blog on a funny form newly invented (I think) by Mr. Gwynn.

Gwynnlets

Have fun.

[Michael Cantor]

They're called "Tailgaters", Maryann, and we had a thread on them only seven years ago.

[Maryann Corbett]

Thanks, Michael! Now if only that helped me to write a good one....

[Roger Slater]

Yes, tailgaters, and Bumbershoot published a mess of them:

http://www.umbrellajournal.com/winte.../contents.html

[Maryann Corbett]

If a moderator is anywhere around, would he or she please change the thread title to "Tailgaters (was Gwynnlets)"?

I know we're fussing to establish the priority of the name, but I hope people won't let the fuss discourage them from trying a few.

[Maryann Corbett]

We could try a theme for them. Here's one:

Thoughts Not Uttered, at the Bar

An aged man is but a paltry thing.
And karaoke! God! don't let him sing.

You guys can do better, I'm sure.

[Michael Cantor]

Do not go gentle into that good night
without a designated driver, myte!

Turning and turning in a widening gyre,
jusht one more, then I'll retire.

You may talk o' gin and beer
but "fuck"s forbidden on the Sphere.

Time present and time past
are unimportant when you're gassed.

[Marnanel Thurman]

Batter my heart, three-person'd God,
And serve it up with chips and cod.

It little profits that an idle king
Should dress up like a lumberjack and sing.

O why do you walk through the fields in gloves?
Protection when greeting my lady-loves.

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
But immigrants aren't welcome any more.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
July the fourth? Not quite. The first of May?

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour.
I need your disinfectant's cleansing power.

[Roger Slater]

Good ones, Thomas. I almost didn't get "batter" when I first read it. Funny.

1.

Farewell! Thou are too dear for my possessing.
I can't afford the salad or the dressing.

2.

Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view
Are bad enough, but not the worst of you.

3.

They that have power to hurt and will do none
Are wasting all the bullets in their gun.

4.

Let us go then, you and I.
Or better yet, just you. Good-bye.

5.

The heart asks pleasure first,
but then eats liverwurst.

6.

The moving finger writes, and having writ
Looks for someplace classy to submit.

[John Whitworth]

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground.
I can't think why there aren't more chairs around.

Put out the light, and then put out the light.
It's me that pays the bloody bills. All right?