Long Town crier Poems
Long Town crier Poems. Below are the most popular long Town crier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Town crier poems by poem length and keyword.
You made up your mind to view the world
With different eyes —eyes recessed, eyes inundated with lustre,
Straining to catch every flight of the dancing seasons that hurled
Man and beast beyond frontiers with baluster.
You are the town-crier of our time, delivering messages printed on banners
That hail the energy of the heated earth.
What a voice you possess! So smooth and euphonious, it rings loud and clear
With the gumption of a king’s augurer, leaving behind manners
That haunt us pleasantly with bliss and mirth,
Suggesting frantically the suavity of a seer
Journalism has come to judgement, fragmented by words and the eloquence
Of time and grace. Are you not equal to the task?
The world admits you certainly are! And with supreme relevance
Your disciples are many, Dear one, flaunting the mask
Of imitation — they litter the world like tiny red beads flung and scattered
Beyond boundaries stretching from sea to coast
You are a lover of words, speaking with valour even on the arcades
Of fright, charming viewers with the powers of gathered
Attention when rainy nights and dewy mornings boast
Loudly of integrated existence of cascades
An anointed raconteur you are, reeling off tale after tale
By moonlight of cosseted playgrounds
I assume you frequented gatherings, prelapsarian, on a scale
So great that the sage spoke on select backgrounds
How do you do it?
Do you burn candles with scented tallow, and without
Need of a flint —thus reluming primitively dark alleyways?
You are the light that shines on tenebrous path and grit,
Revealing fey monsters responsible for the drought
That burned the pennants of truth posted on archways.
I never before knew an institution of mass communication
Until the bright age of running news crowned your labours
By way of a universally attended coronation
The world attributes to you the favours
Of heavens and caverns of Eudemons.
Arise, Dear One, arise and claim your special flair,
Make noise with the reeds of the Nile and dance gracefully
As you dine on stewed cinnamons
Rest assured you’re deeply blessed, Dear one with a dare;
I assure you mightily, speaking faithfully.
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
Where is the president?
Have you seen the president?
He ran away from the country
When he heard the boom sound of
The terrorist guns down the north west.
He said he can't control the raging terrorists
Because their arsenals were more advance than his.
He escaped their bullets and headed down the south.
He is not fit to rule this country i believed.
I saw him covered his face, wore his political shoes
And removed his political cloths.
His body was painted black as the black pot.
He is a chameleon, he changed to black when he saw
The elephant of the forest, fully loaded lads.
Have you seen him return to the country?
Have you heard anything of him?
Can the legs walk if the head is cut off?
Doom is ours if we see not the president.
Call on the children and bring down the gong let us sound it
Far and near Ka Uwa nu ya.
The town crier would be of help to us.
Let him tell the masses that he went for medical
Treatment and not that he ran away from the demons.
The president must be found whether night or day,
How ever, it is better we look for a black goat in the day
Before it is night when we see it no more.
Never allow the terrorist to enter the power house.
Call on thousand soldiers to keep virgin over the gate.
And also cover the black liquid , the pipe must be properly shut
It is the president's right hand.
Go into the street, ask every fools in there if they have
seen the president he dressed like a mad man.
He might be among the street beggars or the mad men in the street.
the president cowardice must not be disclose to anyone
His cabinets went with him you must tell the raging masses.
Go tell them, give them the false rumour
What you tell them they believe.
So go tell them that the president had gone to London for medical check up.
For get about the law of karma, it won't backfire on you.
He had ran away because of laziness, mismanagement and accusations by the masses.
He must not face the music of his actions
He must not face the angry hyenas.
He must be protected and teach the act of government.
Woe to us if we see not the president ,
So i urge to go now!!1
The Dilettante Diaries: "The Bumble Bee Big Blue Sky Boston Two Step on Love Street"
She said, "Pffft Bumble Bees Rule,
No Bees, no World
Shy Little Hearts
Big power
freedom wings
realised
dreams into reality
unfurls
Who’s to write that story?
She’s just a girl
In a Boston Two Step World"
He said, "Stung, once bitten twice shy..."
She said, "The Devil’s in the Details -
the real deal is swallowing
“The Whole Beautiful”
Big Blue Sky
and opening mouths
tongues speak
transfer a lush kiss
shared wealth
Icarus flies out
Sun in his mouth -
It's a sinch..."
He said, "Lady Bird! Lady Bird!
Your House is on Fire!"
She said, "Long ago maybe,
the Empire now strong in unified minds
unfurls to The Town Crier
A new Kingdom
Love
Power
rising higher and higher
Ok tiger, maybe a spark now,
Not yet into bonfire"
For a Woman
that once was a
Butter would melt
in mouth Girl
dreaming unreachable
bigger blue skies
She irreverently
turns keys
in hearts
A Fire opens latches
Lacquered Chinese
puzzle boxed
pheromone trials
and strange
very odd matches
Carniolan whispers, “Bring it on”
She now smiles
and captures...
Judges 14 buzzzing bees 8
Air thick with flying honey
All Along the Watch Tower
She opens the Gate
Hendrix’s Bumble Bees speak,
in hushed reverent
unified tone,
"It’s never too late..."
(Lovejoy-Burton/September 2018)
1.
https://genius.com/The-jimi-hendrix-experience-all-along-the-watchtower-lyrics
2.
"If the doorbell rang in her apartment, she would say, 'What fresh hell can this be?' — and it wasn't funny; she meant it." You might as well live: the life and times of Dorothy Parker...
3.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icarus
4. hmmm, interesting, ah that Dark Bee...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carniolan_honey_bee
5.
Secret "Bee Spell", a riddle, inserted into this Chinese Puzzle Box. Much Love, LUX VITAE x
The Blue Stones/Be My Fire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znOA3xCtHfk
The bridge you walk over
The water that carries you over the fall
One whom singles out souls to meet other souls.
I AM a human bridge.
I know who will love you, and
who would care enough to learn your name?
I also know who would
be made better by you.
I Am a human magnet.
I am that human ladder;
The town crier.
No one remembers who held the ladder,
as they climbed to the pinnacle up to fame.
You can name each of the
people that you met at the top,
except no one remembers, the ladder,
the catalyst, or the climb,
no one remembers that pull of gravity,
or the magnetic force, that drew you
toward the light, and deemed you to be exquisite.
Who then shined the light on your exquisites and said?
“If you got it, I spot it’’.
‘’Now the world is at your feet,
and calls out your name…
You know not who connected you,
plugged you in and said shine on’’.
With or without me...''Shine on’’…
No one remembers the bridge,nor the water or the vessel,
no one remembers the catalyst…but the truly grateful.
The grateful realizes how they got where they are…
The others, well they know…
incidentally they seek out all of
your haters,not by coincidence.
In the end you watch them turn on each other…
As they wear a mark of shame,
plagiarism, disloyalty, and conceit.
The lesson is ‘’everyone can’t see you;
Yet, they really want to be you’’.
Never mix nor mingle with your Catalysis’ enemies,
your catalyst has a natural enthusiasm, or energy
about you that causes others to want be in your shoes.
The bridge, the magnet, the ladder, all matter.
There is always someone who can get you to the next level;
Yet, will have expectations and outcomes that will
not be in your own interest.
Like when the novelty is gone, when the thrill is gone,
they will leave you devalued, like you never were.
Because they never really knew your worth;Or your name!
‘’A true catalyst knows what the eyes speak.
And what the heart holds’’.
I don't know when these lines ran off my shouldering lips this morning...
but I guessed they are spirit and being,
home and forest, evil and sorrow.
I don't know that men are made of
two spirits & souls & bodies until
I saw a boy cast out from his clan.
his body remained in the Obi of his
forebearers whilst his spirit went & his
Soul sang a dirge and elegy among his kindred who watched amidst laughter whilst the other of his body, soul, and spirit went beyond.
I don't know why my blood sipped from his tears and flew down to the ground,
I don't know why culture made men insane like the mad masquerade that was bitten by a snake.
I don't know why we rejected our own in the name of caste system &traditions.
are we not same breathe from same god?
I don't know why we sang last night,
I don't know why we made the moon shine on others and cast it away from our brothers in the ditch to cry and die.
and we dragged their shadows to bury in the evil forest where the unseen gods live.
Let me see your palms and your eyes,
The stars are the easing thought there of,
Let me see your lips and hair,
are they not the same colour with that man sent out last night?
The name of every caste is in our mouth,
blood. Water. Spirit. Souls. Bodies.
The names of every Osu is a bosom of every river flowing eastward.
They are the images climbing the sign whilst the world was dancing to a lonely lullabies.
We made them see the stars descending with black roses & yelling & belching.
My mother was a victim,
my father was a victim,
and that piece of a broken boy was also a victim of this hiccupped mayhem.
Yesterday, the town crier said with a prelude light song that two bodies was found in the street & my people cared not but languised in wine &merriment.
This still remain our fate as my brother went visiting his head &was chased away by her father cos he is an Osu.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
This is a tale of a broken heart
This is the news that was whispered in the market.
When I saw the maid from Mazi Nduka's house
I dreamt she was my spouse
So that my melancholy days were no more
That gentle sadness, which began when mama whom I adore
Joined our ancestors, my heart now abhor.
Asam, my comely maid is the delicious soup
Everyone wants a taste of it, I am the owner
Of the three storey building near my father's compound
In Amuzo.
I acted like a child who had a new cloth, I waited
Under the mango tree, for the maid whose sight abated
My ache, my pain. I called her nwam, my baby. nwam oma; fine baby
She smiled. she laughed.
Her black skin shone from the palm kernel oil, mmanuaki
Her grandma had made.
Her eyes is a mirror; the glorious stars's abode
Her hair is the thick forest of Amuzo
I held her hands and told her the story my mother told me
How the princess of Amuzo long ago
Became fair to look upon because she danced well
At the festival of the new yam.
My Asam laughed and whispered to me
She whispered to me she was as innocent as the day she was born
That the wall between her legs were waiting for me
In three market days, kola nuts and palm wine
Shall see the kinsmen of my beloved
My father shall say we want the beautiful
Flower in Mazi Nduka's house
Or the she goat in his compound.
I like the proverbs of my people,
But I love our prospective conjugal right
My mind envisions.
Last night, I heard the gong of the town crier
Every one went to the town hall;
Three maidens must cross the river of Amuzo
That river which turns red at night, and
Swallows the girl who losses her shoe
Three pure maidens, must bring a pink pebble
From the bank of the river, or be married to the king
My departed fever jumped into me
Next thing I saw my self seated beside
My ancestors. Then like a scene seen from afar
I beheld my Asam, thrust a metal blade
Into her flesh.
5/16/22
Here let me paint you a drawing
My skin crawling
Something stirring and calling
As the leaves begin falling
It's appalling
That people are always squabbling
And gossiping
Yet another mauling
It's no longer enthralling
The temperature of the water freezing or scalding
People aging, greying and balding
This process has no halting
Most spills their guts like a geyser
Life's a , but I like her
With every fiber
Many think they're the , but they need a diaper
I got the job done with or without a screwdriver
Close and far from barbwire
While occasionally sipping hard cider
Or Budweiser
I'm no liar
Or one to preach to the choir
Nearby a campfire
And 4 car tires
I stood with a Rottweiler
Feeling lazy or hyper
Harmless like a Sandpiper
Damgerous like a Pit Viper
Harmless like all these ass wipers
Dangerous like a sniper
Harmless like a Striper
Dangerous like a Tiger
Harmless like the town crier
Dangerous like a Black Widow or Red-Back spider
Harmless like always being nicer
Dangerous like the edge of a pizza slicer
It's time for the next shock
Most thought they could fix it with a pep talk
Meanwhile close by flew a red hawk
Before I decided to jet off
Dealt with pests lots, put them in a headlock
Then they came to a dead stop
Nearby the bedrock
It's revolting
Far too much overindulging
And information withholding
Dangerous like exposure to molding
In all directions it's pulling
I'm still mulling
Meanwhile they continue at lulling
So that they are the ones controlling
In pitch blackness
Full of sadness
Reaching a state of madness
The pattern becoming erratic
It's nearly always tragic
With endless havoc
I almost had it
And went bat
But I partook in Black Magic
In a basement as well as an attic
In the end the outcome was anti-climactic
Soldiers in the line of fire,
we're mic for hire,
we're for the cash or die
so all kneel to the poetic sire,
It's the black king from the goddess
plantin' cash seeds in the garden of loot,
It's the moment of truth,
My voice is like a volcanic box of chatter,
Poetry tracks will stab ya' like daggers,
My words scatter like when blood splatters,
As I unveil my wisdom & remedies,
My human acts & energies tend to be,
The formulas for your life & deaths proximity,
I'm mic for hire,
Spectators kneel & scream sire,
Trumpets get blown
As I spread my message like a town crier,
It's the arrival of the buffalo soldier,
You seized up in the RHYME PEDDLA'Z culture,
Fumes from my vocal box will choke ya',
As i drop poetic rain throughout your village,
And spillage from my mind damn creates a pillage,
For cash flow,
To the non-believers I slash throats and bag foes,
I'm equivalent to spontaneous combustion
When I splash quotes,
In verbal warfare, I'm psycotic and I don't frolic,
With my melodic manuscripts to leave your brain spotted,
With my symbol,
My mind runs fugitive like Richard Kimball,
360 degrees from my left temple back to my left temple,
I spit cerebral typhoons,
Spoken words and hype tunes,
Will penetrate your system
Leaving deep traces of mic wounds,
Which will reconstruct your eardrums,
I fears none but GOD the almighty big one,
A shot of cognac be my serum I need a swig son,
While i'm deep inside the trenches, relentless,
Trying to keep my adversaries hintless,
Many die quick, hard & centless,
Tryin' to phathom,
The magnectic lyrical orgasms,
From the dark skin grizzly adams
THE AMERICAN DILEMMA
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
There was a time when the town crier spread the news
Terse, straight, unfiltered, unbiased with no personal views
Alas, those times have disappeared into days of yore
We now have more news thrown at us than ever before
From sources sworn to be reliable, accurate and true
Usually from an illiterate maybe living next door to you
News now is reported in order to solidify a position
Repeated over and over to reduce valid opposition
These fools are not limited only to those in the streets
It’s for anyone and everyone that regurgitates tweets
It’s one moron to another stating his unproven facts
Certifying his allegations in spite of the proof he lacks
Most have many opinions stating incontrovertible truths
Gleaned from incompetent nobodies acting as sleuths
Honesty has vanished, repeated dribble is now the norm
Pick out a topic support it, rally, protest: create a storm
Those that oppose the demands are forced into submission
They will be named racists, bigots, etc: and did I mention?
They will be barred from expressing any opposing vision
They will be subject to physical and mental attrition
They will be silenced in fear of violence and intimidation
With no opposition the fools are more demanding n brazen
Masked attackers will roam streets seeking any opponent
Their continued demands increasing moment by moment
Opposition is muted, only few dare to parry their claims
Silent majority, silent, few dare challenge their aims
The silent majority complains in utter frustration
While sitting in the front row to the death of a nation