Best Ruled The Roost Poems
For years the men have ruled the roost
so it’s high time ladies soccer got a boost
In July the winning team will lift the cup
it’ll be filled with bubbly for gals to sup!
Two teams will play in the final game
the winning side will see their name
as champions; this will open folks eyes
that soccer isn’t just a game for guys!
The players take part from many empires -
some teams are bad, but they are triers.
They represent their nation with such pride
in time we know the teams who've qualified
I watch the tv to see my favorite team
they score a goal, I whoop and scream
Players run like hares across the pitch
practiced set pieces go without a hitch
They score again, I leap from my chair
the other team say the goal wasn’t fair
The ref says play on, but they are fuming
tempers flare, payback’s all consuming
One player grabs hold of the other’s shirt
and pushes her over, she’s badly hurt
How could the ref miss that blatant foul
perhaps she should throw in the towel!
I jump up shouting at the female ref -
Is she blinking blind as well as deaf!!!
Perchance all referees should be male
they’d spot misdemeanors without fail!
It's fun watching the women's world cup
and interest in ladies soccer is on the up!
2019 FIFA Women's World Cup Poetry Contest
Sponsor Mark Toney
6/27/19
There once was a canary full of rage.
Who shrewdly trapped a sly cat in her cage.
Without a feather ruffled
and Kittie's meows muffled,
she now ruled the roost, as queen of her stage!
Oh how unlucky can a boy be
Not to have one sister but three
I was always the one who got the blame
And had to hang my head in shame
For everything
They could do no wrong
And how they'd tease me all day long
They made Cinderella's ugly sisters look pretty
Always wanted a brother myself
But never had one what a pity.
It was never a happy house
They ruled the roost and I was as timid as a mouse
One day one of my sisters got sent home from school
For wearing no knickers must have been against the rules
The knickers had a pocket in front and were navy blue
But what the pocket was for I never knew.
Sometimes. I'd sneak in their bedrooms
And look in all their draws
There were some white long things with strings
I'd never come across before
I thought they were sticks of dynamite and lit them
Through them out of the window
And took shelter on the floor.
How they loved their pop music and would play the same record
Over and over again and have posters on their bedroom walls
And read teenage magazines with pretty girls in
I looked through them all
And then their spiteful friends would call
It's then I realised girls were different from boys
They played different games and had different toys.
They used to lock me in the wardrobe and go away
And I remember screaming and crying my eyes out all day
We had a pet tortoise I think was called Fred
They buried it in the garden thinking it was dead
When the poor thing must have been in hibernation.
When my sisters grew out of their clothes
They were passed on to me
You can imagine how embarrassed this could be
For a tender boy like me
Ribbons and bows were not my style
And at school I stuck out like a sore thumb by a mile.
Sisters were like blisters they made you sore
Don't have anything to do with my sisters no more.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015.June.
Dwight D. Eisenhower, a heroic general in World War Two
Elected thirty-fourth President of the USA in 1952
Fondly remembered as an American Golden Age
His era had its fair share of turbulence and rage
on both the domestic and international stage
In Ike's first term Senator Joe McCarthy ruled the roost
witch-hunting alleged Commie sympathizers
accusing them of giving the USSR a boost
Then after Ike's landslide re-election
racial politics veered in an ugly direction
Ike sent Federal troops to an Arkansas high school in September of 1957
to enforce desegregation, the law of the land--by judicial fiat was he driven
With the Soviet Union Ike opted for containment, not confrontation
choosing to condemn, but not to stop, the USSR's Hungarian invasion
When Russia's first satellite launch, Sputnik
drove the American new media ballistic
Ike calmly launched NASA and stayed optimistic
A man of deeds over words, Ike was a classic conservative
Limited spending plus tax cuts, his prinicipled preservatives
Before leaving office, Ike warned us
about massive military spending --
in tandem with rising budget deficits
our fiscal freedom would soon be ending
In hindsight, we can see that Ike clearly was right
to stress the perils of unbridled military might
By the time prescient Ike passed away in 1969
Americans were protesting Vietnam* ~ or in its jungles dying
*the War in Vietnam
In Chicago, Mayor RICHARD J ruled the roost DALEY for 21 years,
Til he breathed his last, giving way to the 'next sir:'
A pol named MICHAEL, who was dull and B'LAND-ICk!
When a snowstorm paved the way for a female successor.
'Hurricane JANE'S' reign BYRNEd hot and cold alternatively,
Til along came a black-vs.-white race that EPTON made BERN (I)Even hotter;
In neighborhoods from Sauganash to Lawndale to Beverly,
HAROLD's whiteWASHING of his opposiT'ON caused the Machine to totter.
But then he died, and neithORR DAVID nor another pol SAW YER discomfort
At EU(r) Mayor GENE's toppling of storied Chicago traditions,
Til came the inevitable, a RICHAR(d) DALEY, JUNIOR landslide election:
Which 22 years later left the "City that Works' in near-bankrupt condition..
..Setting the stage foR RAHM, E-MAN-U'EL love to hate,
The man whom some call "Tiny Dancer."
Who's next after him it's a bit early to tell,
But I say it's PAUL VALLAS, unless he gets cancer.
Chicago's Mayors:
1955-1976 - Richard J. Daley
1976-1979 - Michael Bilandic
1979-1983 - Jane Byre
1983-1987 - Harold Washington**
1987 (8 days) - David Orr (Interim Mayor)
1987-1989 - Eugene Sawyer
1989-2011 - Richard M. Daley, Junior
2011-Now - Rahm Emmanuel
2019 - ? - Paul Vallas ?
**Harold Washington defeated Republican mayoral candidate, Bernie Epton, in a bitterly contested, divisive campaign, one which focused largely on race. Epton's campaign slogan, for example, was: "Vote for Bernie, before it's too late." The racism was pretty blatant.
Though fear is an instinctive characteristic
It is implanted by some suckers, on the society
Giving birth to an intimidating practice; hoary
That has gripped the humanity since genesis.
Exploitation is the dearest offspring of fear
That has enslaved humankind down the ages
Unleashing a reign of trepidation repeatedly
Has no parallel in the record of civilization.
Fear has equipped its armoury with progeny
In the form of weapons; perilous and chilling
Foremost among them being the fear of god
With heaven, hell and Satan who join the list.
It has ever hushed the voice of the miserable
Subjugating them to harrowing sufferings
Meting out treatment inhuman nonchalantly
With no trace of remorse, even, occasionally.
Religion and its bye-product; superstition
Have ruled the roost since time prehistoric
With ignorance of masses to their support
Steal from mankind peace and progression.
Venomous poison ran through my veins
exuding an emotionless nihilism
that led to everyday iniquitous quarrels
that left us devoid of truth and peace.
Why did I lose myself in such self-pity?
Can I blame you for your obscene replies?
Had love taken an undeserved holiday?
Confusion and irrational thoughts reigned.
Oh, foolish humans that we were to lose
so easily our much-esteemed dignity.
We lost the "we" and ego ruled the roost.
So we run roughshod over each other,
never considering those brakes we could have used.
But a brake did come. She stopped in mid-sentence.
I was astounded as she sat down bewildered
not pronouncing one word. Trembling I held her hand.
Was it my fault she was struck so? Perhaps,
but from then on I became her nurse.
Gone forever were the malevolent intentions
that dominated my nefarious and despicable dealings.
I had now one aim in life, to bring her back to normal.
Too late I realized how much I really loved her.
Gone was my dignity, my hatred, my retaliations.
My soul grew into a humane and caring nurse,
the old pains gone and I find it exhilarating to see
her progressing towards a semblance of normality.
Placed 2
The cinnamon red rooster lost
His place in the pecking order
Of the flock where another rooster
Battled him to near death
Leaving him with one eye pecked out
And the other swollen shut
Like a boxer who had gone too many rounds
Against the superior contender
That old rooster, forlorn and isolated
From the majority of the group
Found ways to entertain himself
On barn scraps and hay bales
Awaiting the just right moment
To forage for food and go for water
When all the other birds were away
Nibbling at foliage and insects
Dissecting whatever creature
Happened into their territory
The barn, where they grazed happily
Discovering gourmet rats and worms
Little things that make chickens cluck
Months after the rooster was handicapped
By his sparring partner who ruled the roost
There came a hen, a dainty mushroom colored
Lady who had been pecked at until she was
Swollen and hurting, awaiting demise
Leaving her near the rooster
Where she might find solace from the flock
There came a day when it was clear
Her heart and his were as if only one
They shared more than the loss of eyes
To the frenzied pecking of their dangerous kin
But discovered solidarity with one another
Forming a companionship that was quite beautiful
Together, their eggs grew suitable
For precious and graceful chicks
Who would be, despite their past pain,
Healthy, happy and bustling with pride
Chicks who would find pure delight
In sharing this wounded pair’s insights
Together, they grew stronger and more alive
Than they’d ever been because they were learning
What it means to give the gift of friendship
To another who shares your life experiences
Together, these two grew wise and found solace
In cackling and clucking through life
Perfectly content to avoid the strife
That comes from giving into nasty pride
Humility is sometimes the greatest joy in life
How can I mingle with the poor, I’m a millionaire,
My intellect superior,
And the masses inferior.
I am a street sweeper, my name is Jane,
Passers by think I’m insane,
I am the sole earner in a family of five.
I have been voted in as a president,
Those idiots out there, who stand for hours,
Just to wave to me in heat, snow or showers.
I am an un-qualified plumber, I fix toilets and drains,
The hoi polloi insinuate I have no brains,
But it pays a doctor, and feeds us our daily bread.
I sing at concerts, I fill halls and sport stadiums,
Fans love me and know I’m a treat,
Four thousand dollars for a front seat.
I am a train driver and get home very late,
Dinner always on the table prepared by my mate,
My salary is meager but my heart full of faith.
I am a film producer and bring starlets to fame,
Nothing’s changed, they climb ladders as yesteryear,
Come here and do as I say, good girl, what a dear.
I live on this block and get paid for my tricks,
My mom died of drugs, and my dad from drink,
I was left holding the proverbial baby.
I am a porter and carry bags for the rich and famous
My work environment is a 5 Star hotel,
My digs in the back yard of a dump, with a bad smell.
MY INSPIRATION FOR THIS POEM
Did you watch the film ‘Don’t look up’
Where the rich ruled the roost,
And a comet hits and destroys planet earth,
Well, the film ends with the elite on a plane,
Anyone with wealth, power, or fame,
Flying to a destination unknown to the world,
Far from earth, a paradise they thought,
As they came down the plane stairs,
Filthy rich, all billionaires
Met by prehistoric dinosaurs
Who devour them, tearing all to pieces,
All life that descends from that plane, ceases.
Karma it seems does exist,
As depicted in this film script.
With photography
figurative art did flee
defeated by ego 'selfie'
Impressions took centre stage
'til 20th century abstract
became the rage
This expressive genre
still ruled the roost
until digital facility was introduced
& by AI was traduced
Saturdays, Tom and Jerry ruled the roost
Their antics gave my young life a real big boost
Laughing was the rule
Hallelujah, no school
They were hilarious, many chuckles they induced
timid, meek, and demure (effeminate) me,
essentially ruled the roost
regarding Harris household
sole son characterized vis a vis
presented passive resistant
outward nonestablishmentarian mold
worst case scenario
would witness Matthew Scott Harris
spending longevity old and feeble minded
at 324 Level Road
outliving parents, pets
(comprising inordinate
number of dust bunnies) and siblings
(an older and younger sister),
the latter whose globetrotting exploits I envied,
nevertheless outlived anyone polled
even Methuselah, where mein kampf
blissful, fanciful, nouveau poet
nearly long forgotten boyhood charade,
facade inlaid masquerade
crumbled like broken scaffold
attaining centenarian years old -
faintly maintaining umbilical stronghold
considerably surpassing mommy dearest,
born November 13th, nineteen thirty five,
yet moments before her passing
she barely audibly apologized
for occasions she did reprimand and scold
retaliated against grim reaper,
he whisked her diseased riddled body away
after completing seventy plus orbits, all told.
I experienced interminable
relentlessly psyche burning acrid
tormenting, teasing, and talking funny
bullying vulnerability compounded amid
courtesy of split uvula set me apart
alien as a Druid livingsocial
during latter half of twentieth
and first two decades of twenty first century
rather a speech pathologist
informed legal biological guardians
regarding Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic
minor congenital defect when
attending sixth grade at
Henry Kline Boyer Elementary
i.e., submucous cleft palate, aforesaid
whereby every day akin getting scorched
by some "NON FAKE" ironclad grid
me, this twangy nasal kid
my undersized and socially
withdrawn demeanor contributing
to existence tumultuous and turbid.
My mind ruled the roost in my little world.
My mind is the fury below the calm water flow.
My mind is the darkness behind the blue summer sky.
My mind is revenge for all the cries in your life.
My mind is your weapon even in hindsight.
My mind is yours forever not just for today or tonight.
My mind is your soldier with all his fears and his knives.
My mind is the prison of my heart for your smile.
(Inspired by Silent One's limerick, "Queen Of Her Stage" )
There once was a canary full of rage.
Who shrewdly trapped a sly cat in her cage.
without a feather ruffled
Kittie's meows he muffled,
she now ruled the roost as queen of her stage!
There was a time when Kittie was nasty
oh that little one could be quite feisty
but now she eats truffles
without any cuddles
she sits behind bars eating nothing tasty
There once was a cat who ruffled Tweet's feather
a Kittie from hell who could never tether
sometimes they did fight
who was wrong who was right
the only one who knew was dear old Heather !