Short Barter Poems

the jackals of night
we banter and barter
for our prey and
this be the 
death game of life...

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The pattering rain
bliss to the mutual barter
pit-a-pat is gone









For: Catie Lindsey's "In The Mood" Contest....

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Whenever strife involves
  Quid pro quo, barter...
I just offer what I have,
I only wish what is mine...,
 i pay anyway
with self coin......

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Thomas Hutchinson noted the saying
Most Indians used barter for paying
The message is spoken
Exchange for a token
Indians dislike this write...

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As Jesus was walking on water
He plotted to get God to barter
When God heard his pleas
He fell to his knees
And found he could swim like an otter...

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The price for freedom is it to high?
Can it be bought?
Will it be sold?
How will one trade it?
Does it have a valve?
Can you barter with it?
All I know for sure is my freedom is priceless!...

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A demon leaps up from the pages,
Long ages
Waiting for his invitation:
Your invocation.

Too late you slam shut both the covers;
He hovers
Giving you gold in a barter:
Your soul’s the martyr....

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Did the Holy Family leave it all behind, when they fled?
Did they barter the gold to invest in a comfy baby bed?
Did Mary use frankincense for calm aromas to waft in?
Did they keep the myrrh for His burial without a coffin?...

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I wonder if I can barter for smart
I would only need a little to start
I’ll trade my dumb
If you need some
Lord knows I have more than plenty to part!



For Dumb and Dumber contest
I'll barter for smart with some of my dumb (my own quote)...

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Barter your service
          your goods
          your skills
You have value
more
than you determine. 

Money is not the only mode,
you're smart
combine the 2 and the 2.
See what you can do
to make it through !



Copyright McCuen 2009...

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Eye dropper slow
I understand we have to go low
We have to wait for another glow
Of this once-in-awhile love

About this once-in-awhile love
Can we have a barter trade?
So once-in-awhile can be everyday
Or shouldn't I say?
Only thing I can do is pray...

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Everyone’s life is tragic,
but who calls out the score

The Jester or the Hangman,
the Undertaker sure

Everyone’s nights are haunted,
when sleeping with the Muse

Each dream a wanton barter
—your memories to lose

(Haverford Pennsylvania: May, 2020)...

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He had more past 
than future
his rope was
getting thin
The choices made
the debts he paid
lost time
the biggest sin

His memory out
for barter
to change that
yet to come
For one last chance
to do the dance
whose music
—zero sum

(The New Room: May, 2023)...

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Do you wish to take a Sabbath
From this world of anguish and lie?
Go visit the cemetery
You will surely find one nearby.

There you can barter your traumas
For compassion and peace instead,
The living have learnt not this craft
It’s fine art harnessed by those dead. 
				****************...

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~~~~~~~~~~~

The rains have come on another Fall wind.,
nostalgia, once gone, now creeps back in.

My cornucopia overflows with things Man cannot barter or buy. 
A hand to her hand, lover's sigh to wooed sigh.  


“Good Night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are" -Jimmy Durante...

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I collect tins and bags
of coffee, Hector brings
me, for future
barter.

Some unknown calamity,
I will have all the
coffee.

Tins and bags of
gold, a hoard to
protect.

Safe passage, ammo, maybe a
scarf for a loved
one, my mind creates endless
outcomes.

I' m hoping coffee is in
short
supply.



11/16/13...

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Would you rather die
than be embarrassed

Rather destitute 
than shamed

Would you rather set your heart on fire,
than barter out your name

Does your reputation matter,
will your legacy endear

Does what others think,
release the pain

That haunts
—and drives your fear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)...

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To far off lands they retreat 
So that face to face they may meet 
But it's hard to see eye to eye
When they are buried deep in each thigh 
From the smell of foul stench 
They quell and quench 
Barter and betray 
All in a game of power play
They sacrifice the minions
Dead ear to opinions 
And with swift spin
Unzip and do it again...

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In stuffy days when I would dress to please
And barter for belonging with a look,
In fussy days when I would don a  thought
To hide a naked need and make it prim--
I could have healed myself from expectations,
Remembering how God left Sunday school
With me when I was five, and how we both
Played in the mud and soiled our special clothes....

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.


            they all flock
     and into mine garden
                  rest

             they barter
             "seeds for
       mine eyne's please"

     they gather 'bout the
           water sculpt
    they gather 'bout mine
              window

         once or thrice
                one 
               got in


...

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Two men tall, 
one from here
and one from there,

in raincoats
at a bus stop,
pace and stare.

One of them 
is soaked in tea,
brisk man from Jaipur

who semaphores 
an anthracitic glare.
To barter for a smile

an alien’s obeisance
he, no fawn, 
refuses. 

The other man,
white cane and dog,
doesn’t seem to care.


Donal Mahoney...

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You try it,
You even buy it,
You don't get it,
You claim it,
You disclaim it,
It works,
It doesn't,
Again, you denied it,
You pay, your stay: monthly, annually
You gain, sustain,
You barter, charter,
You bargain, you bust
it stays a must.
You cry,
You cuss,
You fuss,
Sign on the line
It pays
betrays
Rent -- it stays....

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~ (~) But One Sheen (~) ~




Beyond one-window, pane;
thus-striving for;
barter-welcoming... the-barrier,

placation;

the jest so-defines-this... yes... !


Gentle songs fill the day...
as-they... 

lye-beyond;

but-one sheen...
only;

of division-yes... !







http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syE8urF1mFc&feature=related...

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BICHON FRISE
Bichon frise or is it curly lapdog you prefer?
Pray, do make it known
Descendant of a water spaniel originating in ancient times
In the Mediterranean area
Used as barter by sailors
Your solid white coat is silky profuse
Not silky confuse
I get it now
You are prized for your lively intelligence
And is usually groomed and trimmed 
To give a “powder puff” appearance....

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Brisk Man from Jaipur


Two men tall, 
one from here
and one from there,

in raincoats
at a bus stop,
pace and stare.

One of them 
is soaked in tea,
brisk man from Jaipur

who semaphores 
an anthracitic glare.
To barter for a smile

an alien’s obeisance
he, no fawn, 
refuses. 

The other man,
white cane and dog,
doesn’t seem to care.


Donal Mahoney...

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