h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Just to lower the tone

There was a young hippy called Mark
Who thought it would do for a lark
To dye his beard white
And give Abi a fright
She laughed.. and now he's back dark

or

An Editor who we all know
Decided that he had to go
And walk off a'roaming
Not into the gloaming
But off to the wilds of Congo

Hoovooloo, you are a genius, and I salute you!

Otto

H.

Though at times we may disagree
On what will or won't be
Us hitchhikers see
That we're sad losing thee!
Best regards -Shagbark OMFC

Tho' I'm hardly a dab hand at verse
I suppose there are others much worse
On this site I've just started
Now Mark has departed
I just hope I've not brought on a curse

With a heartfelt tear in my eye
I pen these few words to say "Bye"
When good times must end
And we farewell a friend
Raise a glass, say "Good Luck" and don't cry

Now Mark, tell us the truth
Are you going to search for lost youth?
Or is it a quest
Just for a good rest
To escape the great unwashed and uncouth?

Hark Hark!
The researchers do bark!
out went the cry for the man named Mark!
From all the guys,
Shagbark to Bluesshark-
Hark Hark-
where goes Mark?

I can't do this sort of thing-but I tried!

I joined, and there was
A man named Mark, it seemed
Who looked after the place so well
And polished it all 'til it gleamed

From the Towers he looked over all
With his Mac and his drink and his beard
And he read all the forums and Entries
And decided that things were just far too weird

So he got on the phone and had a chat
With the travel agent, who idea
"Why not go to Africa!" he said
And Mark said, "sure, no fear!"



Yes I know, I'm a terrible poet. My stanzas don't even have the same syllabic structure...

Yes I know, I'm a terrible poet. My stanzas don't even have the same syllabic structure...

poetry is art why make subject to so many rules
...all poetry should be fun!

The problem was that they were _supposed_ to have the same syllabic structure...

It evades me ever, the poet's art,
But I thank you all from the bottom of my heart

Better than being thanked from the heart of your bottom, I suppose

There was a little neophyte,
who chanced upon this little site,
to find everything waiting to be abused.
It took but little time,
to find the ducks all in line,
drilled and guided by a muse.
A man, a wraith, a name,
taking both credit and blame,
but rarely without an excuse.
An omnipresence,
without excrescence,
unwilling to be obtuse.
Who now leaves
behind some grief,
but a lot more gratitude than he can use.

Bravo!

There should be an applause smiley... I'll settle for instead.

So Happy Together!

Once in a city called London
A man tried to get some real work done
His name was Mark Moxon
Didn't have any socks on
And from the smell all his colleagues did run



Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at limericks! And no, Mark, I don't _really_ think your feet smell...

Ah, but it's nice to know they're getting some exercise...

So farewell then, Mark Moxon.
He used to work here, now he's go(xo)n(e).

Needs a bit of refinement perhaps, but you get the idea.

Dr. E. J. Thribbenstein, aged 17 3/4??

H.