Best Roger Poems
Roger Ebert~ "At The Movies"
Chicago Film Critic: Pulitzer Prize winner for Criticism.
Has a star in his name, at the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Passed away in 2013 A.D.
~~A Dedication to Roger Ebert~~
Ah, dear Roger! Gone but not forgotten.
Infinitely compassionate, warm and fun!
With you, and many Chicago journalists,
I was so very blessed to run.
You never were too big to come to my
humble home parties!
You brought your journalist friends, too.
When my daughter was just two, she
joyfully opened our front door for you.
Each New Years Eve, you rented a space
for your hundreds of friends,
With drink, food and overflowing
laughter.
Those days, Roger, I will remember and
cherish, today and forever after.
I daringly argued with you about your movie
critiques!
And yet...you were open to hearing the
ramblings from my mouth.
Till a deathly illness, took you painfully out!
But, of your endless virtues and genuine
humanity and creativity,
Of these, dearest Roger, I will eternally shout!
Love,
Panagiota
Panagiota Romios
4/1/2019
The gals are besotted with Roger,
he's famed for the size of his todger,
they pay for his time
(he charges a dime) -
he's ninety but not an old codger.
No need of Viagra in force
as Roger's ancestors were Norse
(and vikings were known
for getting a bone) -
his resume says, 'Intercourse.'
[Creditation: I must thank Jan for reintroducing me
To that delightful word... ‘Todger’ in her ‘Bawdy Limerick’]
My landlady’s sexually keen
She’s also a little obscene
She called me her todger
I said you mean lodger
And she said I know what I mean
She gave me a wink and she said
You could pay this week’s rent in my bed
Her offer was real
So I made her squeal
My rent is now three months ahead
Old Roger is dead and gone to his grave,
Hum,ha! gone to his grave.
They planted an apple tree over his head,
Hum,ha ! over his head.
The apples grew ripe and ready to drop,
Hum,ha ! ready to drop.
There came a high wind and blew them all off,
Hum,ha ! blew them all off.
There came an old woman to pick them all up,
Hum,ha ! pick them all up.
Old Roger got up and gave her a knock,
Hum,ha ! gave her a knock.
Which made the old woman go hipperty hop,
Hum,ha ! hipperty hop.
~Roger Williams~
(Acrostic)
R-oger Williams, his music is timelessly delightful.There's no
O-ther in the world like him.He started to play piano at age three.A
G-raduated of I.S.U.Drake University,and Julliard School of Music.Performed at
E-very major venue,Carnegie Hall,the Hollywood Bowl,and the White House.He's
R-eferred as the "Pianist for Presidents" because of his later performances.Roger
W-illiams was born, Louis Weertz,(October 1,1924) in Omaha,Nebraska,U.S.
I-n high school,became interested in boxing,but then returned to music
L-ater on,only after breaking his nose and other injuries many times.He
L-ater majored in piano,and then enrolled in the U.S.Navy,served in World II.
I-n 1955, he recorded "Autumn Leaves"and reached #1 on billboard music charts.
A-fter that,he did,Born Free,Godfather,Romeo &Juliet,Evergreen and many
M-any more.On October 29,2004,was inducted into the Nebraska Hall of Fame
S-teinway Hall, found him celebrating his 81th birthday tickling the ivories.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.22.2015
Author Note:
A dedication poem for the very wonderful and talented,
pianist,Roger William (Mr.Piano)
Roger Williams
(1924-2011)R.I.P
Start
The great tennis legend Roger!
Watching his game is a pleasure
The first service is a bullet
That hits the court like a mallet
The adversary is confused
Just misses getting bruised!
Challenges the absence of line call
Replay shows the trajectory of the ball
Referee’s verdict, ‘ball is in’
He grumbles and calls it a sin
To use the racquet as a gun
Denying the opportunity to run
His returns are the best in the sport
Ball is directed to the corners of the court
His drop shots are precisely done
Ball just crosses the net heavily spun
If the opponent manages to return it still
He’s crouching at the net ready to kill
There are times when it’s not his day
All his game plans go astray
He struggles to turn the game his way
That is when pretty Mirka starts to pray
Seated in her box she closes her eyes
Appeals to God with her silent cries
Lo behold! The game turns around
Everyone in the court is astound
The final score board says it all
Liebling Roger no longer with his back to the wall
He acknowledges cheers for his guile
With a clenched fist and triumphant smile.
End
I do not know if it is Bra Man
Or Black Lightening
Missing from the curriculum
Or it is that we do not teach about ourselves
Beyond the superficiality of their apologetics
Twisting identities out of shape,
But I cannot find you in dream nor landscape
And we are so young.
We are too young to forget so many things new already
Unless we prioritize
For when the wound is heal the scab must go
And I must see my flesh beautiful with hair again
I must see you growing in our rain.
For you were a tree
That did not just take root and leach us dry
You returned mulch again and again
And gave this culture
The most denied part of it
Exposure to me look me in the eyes
And left me owning with mild surprise.
Brother man, let me tell you
That was black lightning in the heart
White darkness fled.
ii
He too knew it before
What I tell you
This is language you may dance
You may write and carve
But it is not to talk
For talking sake.
This language is the repository of culture ...
He went inside searching bare cupboards
And came out laughing with surfeit
Little Roger Stodge
School he loved to dodge
Yes Roger loved to play
The truant game
His parents didn’t know
That Roger didn’t go
Everyday Roger
Did the same
Every morning with no fuss
He’d get onto the bus
Then get off again
At the very next stop
He’d spend his dinner money
On candy bars made from honey
And bottle after bottle of fizzy pop
Roger thought it didn’t matter
That eating junk food made him fatter
Then one day,
Headmaster came walking down the lane
Roger, suddenly quite manic
And in a hurried panic
Jumped and hid in a sewer drain
Headmaster walked on by
Roger gave a relieved sigh
But Roger was completely out of luck
He wiggled and he wriggled
He wriggled and he wiggled
But alas poor Roger was completely stuck
Now I am afraid I have to say
Roger is still there to this day
And you know,
He didn’t even have to go to school
It was the holidays
For it was summer
See not going to school
Does make you dumber
Silly Roger, the tubby little fool
I have carried you all my life
Yet i cant explain exactly who you are
True i bear your name
I dance in your body
I smile in your chicks
And walk in your feet
But i doubt whether
I know who you are
Sometime you are an introvert
Yet most of the times an extrovert
No doubt you are obnoxious.
Though you are generous, caring and honest
You are impulsive and spontaneous all the time
I revere your Courageous spirit
But your cowardice drives me mad
Did i say you are generous and Materialistic?
You are funny and witty but also Boring
Yes i carry this stomach of yours
I see light through your big eyes
And i pose in your 5.11 inches height
But I don't know you
You are very good,
You are loyal and trustworthy
You love passionately
Yet you hate, despise and segregate
You're a great saint
But also a rotting sinner
Who are you sir?
Who am I?
I
Roger Dean at a South African college
And team, caught our singularity
The black hole, so Einsteins Relativity
Does not apply here, physics' knowledge
II
Amazing that at the center of our Milky Way
There is so much outside of usual gravity
Space-time, if a fabric, has massive debris
One of these swallows all light, passers by!
From his mother’s womb
One February afternoon
and straight to the Situation Room
Hunter Biden, we presume.
His father, with his thoughtless clauses and pauses,
Captured the most prestigious of offices.
And angry was the Republican caucus.
The Donald, he got jaundiced.
And vowed revenge on those Commie leftists.
So he rang Roger Stone
On the secret Bat Phone
I need you Dirty Trickster
For I alone am the true victor.
Be at Trump Tower, one hour.
Bring Nydia for Cuban firepower.
Stone rubbed his cock so mammoth
Grabbed his chalk stripe jacket
And went to save the planet.
Then magically, Sean Hannity
Had the audacity
To reveal our tragedy
(Reader, it’s tawdry)
The hero of our story
Had been groomed
On a silver crack spoon.
Alas!
Hunter made history
Because it was no mystery
Whose crackpipe it was
atop the White House
Christmas tree.
And who has the balls
To roam the West Wing halls
And drop a bag of blow
On that bust of Ol’ Frank Delano?
It wasn't his brother Beau.
Such is your brilliance
And your inheritance
The executive residence
Imagine!
The wonders you could do
From that trap house
on Pennsylvania Avenue
Maybe even replace Congress
with a petting zoo!
You get high
in polite society
No need for an apology
It's just pharmacology
In Hunter, we trust
the future off democracy
His cabinet? A veritably talent agency
Vice president Jay Z
Willie Nelson in charge
of drug policy;
Keith Richards
head of social security
(for all eternity)
Charlie Sheen secretary
of the Treasury
and Lindsey Lohan
your expert
on foreign policy.
Maybe, destroy
North Korea
in a bout of paranoia
But please keep
your stem in your pocket
don't let it fall on the carpet
During the State of the Union
Try not to piss on
the constitution.
Crackheads everywhere
take some pride
In our man on the inside
He’s from our tribe
sure he'll take a bribe
his brain is totally fried.
From one crackhead to another,
We love you Hunter!
Hahayaan kong marinig mo, ang bawat pag kabog at paghagulgol nitong nasa loob ko.
Simula, mula simula ako ay tulala habang nag-iisip kung ano ang isusulat na tula.
Wakas, hanggang saw akas bakas parin ang nilagyang gapas
Noong ang loob ay nagdarasal na kumalas patungo sa bagong bukas.
Ngayon, pilit paring ginagamot ang pilat na sa akin ay iginapos.
Ngayon ako ay aahon at sasabihing gutom… ako po ay gutom kaya tulala.
Gutom hindi sa pagkain kung hindi sa salita.
Nauubusan na po ako ng mga salita.
Mga salitang makapag papaimbulog sa mga damdaming nais kumalas
at nais gumuhit sa kapirasong papel upang mailabas ang nararamdaman.
I
Roger Deane at a South African college
And team, caught our singularity
The black hole, so Einsteins Relativity
Does not apply here, physics' knowledge
II
Amazing that at the center of our Milky Way
There is so much outside of usual gravity
Space-time, if a fabric, has massive debris
One of these swallows all light, passers by!
NOTE: I like to think of black Holes as great recyclers & cleaners. That found in our Galaxy is named Sagittarius star
You were born in 1924 and you died in 2011.
You died one year ago today at the age of 87.
My grandparents gave me one of your records in the late seventies.
And I bought another of your records at a flea market in 1983.
It's a fact that you were a great pianist.
You were talented and you will be missed.
You began recording for Kapp Records in the fifties.
You did an amazing job when you performed Born Free.
In 2010 you were inducted into the Hit Parade Hall of fame.
When you died of pancreatic cancer, it was a damn shame.
You made beautiful music with those piano chords.
Now you're in Heaven playing the piano for the Lord.
(Dedicated to Roger Williams who passed away October 8, 2011.)
I am my mums'
little jolly roger dog,
have 4 legs ones' broke,
I often forget the pain I'm in
off on a tandem I'll go
I have good days
when I feel gay
run and fro lick
like I used to play
my mum has me on medication,
had to date two operations,
But what am I to do?
mum has short end all my walks
to limit strain, and ongoing pain
on short walks now, we see the locals,
exchange our how you dos'
other exciting things include
sniffs and smells I stop to do
doggy dos,
limitations now run rife,
the cookie jar is my daily highlight,
the vet has done all he could,
except for a leg made of wood,
I'm on new medication
natural muscle replacement
if I could get this leg stronger
I could go on walks longer
eight years ago I adopted mum
she liked me from the start,
she like the way I stuck up for myself
she knew that I had spark,
an SPCA puppy, dumped in a sack
there I was left for dead
my life hanging by a thread
I am a cross bred moggy
my mum is my best friend
I'll love and protect her
loyally til the very end
I'll always be at her side
her hairy handsome boy
even without all my legs
my loyalty for her
no one can destroy
Life is not too boring, but now a little slow
I don't feel crippled, sometimes, miserable
I definitely don't feel baron,
as long as I have my master
my mum, my best friend, my sharon