There Is A Rooster On The Roof
Someone said,
Chickens will come home to roost.
And there is a rooster on the roof,
With binoculars laughing.
'I want some scrambled eggs made,
With toast and marmalade.'
Someone said,
He was too young to fish.
But with them he went fishing,
And came back with all the fish.
'Clean it and fry it up with wild rice.
Cook some collard greens,
And that will be real nice.'
Someone said a failure will be seen.
But they are not the ones,
Eating fish and greens.
And there's a rooster on the roof,
Croaking for chickens to lay their eggs.
And the young fisherman,
Bathes in accolades!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Happy Easter
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do,
The clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
'Happy Easter'
~Do you notice anything different about those eggs? ~
'Yeah!
They are colored.
Why? '
~They are for the Easter Egg Hunt.
Put them back.~
'Oh!
I must be dreaming.
I thought I heard a rooster crow.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eggxample
What came first chickens or eggs?
Chickens of course!
Chickens have legs!
Chickens have feathers,
Eggs have a shell,
How would you like your eggs, done well?
This may be a 'yolk',
But consider it folk!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Utilitarian Point Of View
as the gray hen cackles looking for a place to lay her eggs
the red rooster looks for another white hen to shuffle on the ground,
we who see this does not condemn, nay we never think of morality
or codes of ethical conduct, as the rooster is just doing the work that nature and man have assigned to it
no hen ever complains that the rooster has copulated with the other
six hens around the poultry in the backyard and in the garden
neither shall we reprimand the rooster for being so restless and
cocky and prolific or as we call it engages in promiscuous sex
all that we are thinking on that moment are the eggs that each hen can lay, our minds looking forward to every morning's breakfast, when we shall choose, the usual delights: either scrambled or sunny side up or perhaps a hard-boiled egg for our personal consumption.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What's Going On With The Chickens?
What's going on with the chickens?
'No one really knows exactly how all of this started.
Or wish to connect any of this,
To the making of common sense.
They are baffled.
We are baffled.
And since it was reported,
Those chickens were going home to roost...
Well,
The abundance of eggs they once had laid...
Has been limited to quite a few.
And 'now'...
Someone has decided to use them,
In some foolish sexual preference dispute.'
And...
Who is that guy tied up to the chair?
'He was the one who first declared,
A suspicion he had that chickens everywhere...
Were preparing to come home to roost.'
Oh yes...
I remember.
He was the one daring to tell the truth about the chickens.
And he was labelled a racist too.
'What are they calling the people,
Choosing to protect their rights...
Not to cater to those with same sex appetites? '
Conveniently they have called them conservatives.
'Has everyone lost their minds? '
I have no idea.
But grateful I am to be a vegetarian.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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Varied Menu
Chicken and rice.
Fish and rice.
Rice and chicken.
Rice and fish.
Varied menu - 'ish!
Nice jungle place.
There's plenty of space.
Fresh clean air
But that dietary pair,
Fish or chicken
.....Not again!
So more trekking with a frown
Back to Georgetown.....
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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Lucky Catch
Once saw a small boy
Hand line a very large fish
Very lucky boy!
With expensive gear
Fisherman cast very far
Not a single fish
'Boy could barely cast'
Remarked the old fisherman
'Just beginners luck'
True about boy's skills.
Could only cast to the fish
Feeding at his feet
Not just gear or skill
To be lucky in fishing:
Fish where the fish are!
poem by Zen Bojczuk
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
Fish And Rice
Daniel phoned me today
with his usual two year old exuberance
which comes naturally when you are two
and comes naturally when you're fifty two
until you extinguish it with old damp habits,
and he said
'Fish! Fish! I like fish very much!
Daddy, fan fan, fan fan', (Chinese for rice)
and yes Daniel has already mastered
three languages, English, Mandarin and enthusiasm
the last of which he is most adept at.
Well I thought he was enjoying his fish supper
but not so, and I should have known,
this exuberance could not be the result of food
unless perhaps a rare taste
of smooth creamy chocolate.
No he was feeding fish,
fish with an appetite for rice?
No, but no one had told him the ingredients of fish food
or me for that matter
and of course he was right,
as far as the fish are concerned
this was indeed the rice of life.
And he was now suddenly very upset
standing in the corner, arms folded, despondent
what happened? I asked
I am told by my reporting wife
that there had been a message I had missed,
and should have known.
Feeding fish is more essential for happiness
than eating fish,
and on his return home, freely swimming happy fish
should be waiting for his love and bliss.
poem by David Taylor
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Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens
Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.
They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Poverty
he is arrested today on a charge of grave threats
against his very own aunt who owns a store selling rice and salted fish
and sugar and coffee and eggs and mongo beans
he has nothing to eat and hurt his back and cannot really walk straight
like an ordinary man
yesterday he asksed a little help from his aunt for he was so hungry and had not eaten his breakfast as last night it rained so hard and his lamp went out andcould not catch the american frogs on the pond that taste like chickens for his supper with his mother and two other siblings who are very hungry too and there are no more bananas and potatoes in their farm which did not yield a good harvest of rice as the cost of fertilizer has gone more than twice their price last month and they have nothing to spray to kill the army worms
and the clerk asks if they have no chickens and there is none as all died
because of bird flu that came too early this year
and he was too angry because his aunt would not give them a little rice
or at least let them borrow for the meantime that they have no work
because the municipality is laying off all the casual employees that dig
the ditch along the muddy road
and so he threatened his aunt as he was so hungry and he took the chupa of
rice and a cup of mongo beans and a piece of salted fish for home
and so he is arrested today not just for grave threats but also for theft
he is the thief
that hunger and anger have successfully molded before our very eyes
that know no pity no compassion, and we shall now ask:
what is the verdict your honor? is he guilty as charged?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Persistently Pursuing Piscine Protein
Once again whilst fishing at the beach,
The fish they all stayed out of reach,
I think they knew that I was there,
And so my fish bag it stayed bare.
Nothing in there for me to eat,
The scaly ones had me beat,
But such is the nature of this fisherman,
I'll be trying again as soon as I can,
And next time I'll catch fish a' plenty,
Not going home with my fish bag empty.
This optimism keeps shining bright,
No matter how often on a cold wet night,
I venture out and fail to catch,
I know next time will be game, set, and match.
To me the stupidly determined one,
Who keeps on fishing when all hope is gone!
Tom Higgins 19/11/2012
poem by Tom Higgins
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A Fishermans Will
A Fisherman's Will
I have eaten catfish in more ways than one
Fish that is blackened is not over done
Bass done over a grill with butter basting
Fish balls fried are really tasty
I have had days I caught more fish than I could contain
Then there were days I didn't get a bite and it rained
Memories of Dads and trips where we bonded
Caught some that could have been mounted
Romance and fishing don't go together well
Poles and pools on days hotter than hell
I've never make a good fisher of men
But I have found fishing gives me a grin
So when I die I ask you please
Put my body in a river or sea
Let the fish then eat off me,
So I may return the favor, please!
This is my request in my:
Fisherman's Will
Jim 1989
poem by James Casey
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Broremann The Fisherman
Broremann the Angler
On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking,
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish.
But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones,
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fishing For A Friend
when you go to fish
go fishing for the finest kind
which good anglers always do.
if you're looking for a fine fish
you must choose the purest lake
in which good anglers fish.
if you catch a fine fish
try not to let it get away
good anglers real them in.
you must bring your fish home
a fine fish will quench your hunger
after a long day fishing.
(January,2010, Omar Ibrahim)
(revised by MR.Ronald Peat)
poem by Omar Ibrahim
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Fishes
Fishes serene
Comfortable.....swim
Free these creatures
Swimming wild?
NO! ...in the fish pond
food thrown is man's send
Water changed
Beautiful his surroundings made
Greens provided
Friends to play
Fish in pond
In heaven of its own?
Truth?
A captive for the rest of his life
Even the fish
Pays for his comforts
In kind....
yet how serene..........
_____________________________ ___________
poem by Malini Kadir
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is what the fish said
-1-
How long can the hide and seek go on?
The net is cast everyday and soon
you will be `it'.
A fish's silence says a lot
The one under the oath of Hatha Yoga
called back to say
`Ruthless love breeds contempt'
-2-
This is temple river
These are temple fish
Casting nets is prohibited here
Some fish even wear golden rings
They live on the puffed-rice of silence
They do not always decipher the meaning of dreams
Today they said move on to the big ocean
when the pond gets small
-3-
Eels travel miles to mate at mid sea
Some fish swim up current to
mate, lay eggs and die
Some spread the love scent for miles
with a small flutter of the tail
The laying of eggs is an all together
different matter.
Just a small movement of the body and a
small opening of the secret passage
and millions of tiny wonders slide down
guaranteeing there will be life after all
do not despair.
poem by Prathibha Nandakumar
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Two Chickens And A Stone Colored Rooster
this afternoon
the two chickens on light wings
roost on a tall tree
the stone colored rooster
stays grounded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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