Short Crier Poems

deaf but with normal ears
blind yet with healthy eyes
crier though with sane mind
heart of stone in flesh and blood...

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A slippery slope
vote and hope.
Don’t read prior
dire straits crier.
Time to mope.

© Mar 18 2010      Charles Henderson...

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Sapphire-tinted bells herald life anew
springtide’s dulcet birthstone watch,
omen of fragrant  bloom

Posted ; 29th March 2022...

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Five o'clock
and all is well
hear ye,hear ye
the town crier
tolls his bell
Is it morning 
or is it dusk
no living person
can tell
Hades or hell?...

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There is an ocelot at twelve o’clock
I did not bother to get out my Glock.
Was eaten fast
All but my cast
Thanks to the lying wolf-crier on the block...

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A blank page...
                                                     
Fill it with tears...

Age old story...

Who cares?

Only the crier,....

The reader quickly turns the page....

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not a tear
the crier of ancient time
didn't need I watch
to tell the time
noisy they will keep you informed with bells or drums
and what do you see in the saline water of my eyes
looking at your screen you are missing every thing....

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I aspire to be greater than the sire,
Though higher knowledge I must acquire,
My desire burns in me than furnace fire ,
Which makes me perspire like a town crier ,
I admire the traits of men in the flier ,
Which makes my entire life look like satire .


1-6-2017...

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There once was a sweet little lass from Eire

     Who had everything a man could desire

          A mustache she wore

               And biceps galore

                    With bass voice like that of the town crier

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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Anger is like a fire
Burns hot without tire,
Peace grows desire.
In between the crier,
Fire fuels the mind.
Harmony makes one kind.
Definitely it takes both.
To take on growth,
Just like good and bad.
Or happy and sad,
Yin and yang,
Quiet or bang.
Two sides of a coin.
Life must join....

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Hell-bound in Spellbound Fire

If my desire;
Were to be on fire;
Then my desire;
To be hell bound;
Now if I'm the town crier;
Hope-in to be in dire;
Straight to hell bound encased;
In the sins from my beginnings until the final death;
Final destination not...  
To be Hell bound on fire spending eternity in Hades

3/1/19...

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No more do birds chirp
  No longer does grass grow
Leaves turn bright colors
  Then cover Earth's floor

Rains well up in puddles of mud and mire
  A dog's plaintive bark, a lone town crier
Windows close; shutters tightly shut
  Street surfaces soon will sprout ruts

November is here, its air so bracing, so clear
  Cushions the shock ~ Winter is near...

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What is a Poet?

A singer of songs, a caller of warnings;
A crier of tears, a laugher, a weeper.
Lover of life; of nature, of God;
One set apart; scoffed at and shunned.
Sufferer of numberless maladies.
A poet spreads his soul;
Rampant over white paper;

To be wondered at and mocked.
To incite passion, tears, and smiles.

To expound truth and create beauty....

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Earplug

If the eyes can find sleep
when the left hand in battle
hacks to bits, a right at peace

Indulges our parched earth
that can never drink her fill
of human blood libations

And the town crier never cries
at his gong's discordant tunes
with the plight of the people

Then, power is only an ear plug
wealth, a virtual reality camera
and the people, jesters at court....

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A new car is in serious trouble,
Its worried owner worrying his stubble
A helpless heart is on fire
No longer sure The Devil is A liar!

Unmistakable tears of a crier,
At a still far off market, a buyer
And through accursed routes A Trier.

New dreamy wishes of a road drier,
Upset  by his left front tire,
Already in a manacling mire…

Some tomorrow a flying car or car-flyer...

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Listen to poem:

Penumbric Fringe
David J Walker

The lateness of the hour
Measured in the meter of the 
News-mans message
	The Hour is Late 
	But not come
Cries the downtown crier 

The lateness of the hour
With unrealized power
	From the sun
But then
	They will be they
Won’t they
They are the one-word
Future

The lateness of the hour
Is   Time
	And time again
Repeated in 
Ambit chaos
Within the penumbric fringe...

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Fear of rats
When I came to my friend’s house,
Doors were open he sat crying in a corner.
What’s wrong, I said. I think I’m going mad
Saw a rat on the kitchen table eating butter.

Some animals have a streak of humour
They often laugh of our antics.

I went into the kitchen and saw many vermin
Feasting on butter sandwiches, I ran
Out of the house and shouted to the crier
I’ll be back but have to go and buy bananas....

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Fear of rats
When I came to my friend’s house,
Doors were open he sat crying in a corner.
What’s wrong, I said. I think I’m going mad
Saw a rat on the kitchen table eating butter.

Some animals have a streak of humour
They often laugh of our antics.

I went into the kitchen and saw many vermin
Feasting on butter sandwiches, I ran
Out of the house and shouted to the crier
I’ll be back but have to go and buy bananas....

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Fear of rats
When I came to my friend’s house,
Doors were open he sat crying in a corner.
What’s wrong, I said. I think I’m going mad
Saw a rat on the kitchen table eating butter.

Some animals have a streak of humour
They often laugh of our antics.

I went into the kitchen and saw many vermin
Feasting on butter sandwiches, I ran
Out of the house and shouted to the crier
I’ll be back but have to go and buy bananas....

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Wipe your eyes my son,
Stare, just stare, at moon
When it’s full and bare;
See! you’ll see a hare.

He leaps into a fiery fire,
You see my son that pyre;
It’s a painting by a sire
Dwells in the sky higher.

This hare’s a great giver,
Who didn’t ever, shiver,
To leap into a dazzling fire
And give his life to a crier.

There’s that greatest gift
Sire gave to hare so swift;
When sky its veil does lift,
You’ll see that greatest gift....

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Soon, a penniless buyer,
Who’d dreamt of being a high flyer,
His bowel, a deflated tire,
And, thus, an embittered crier ….
Not willing anymore to climb higher;
Bosses would their workers fire,
After a couple of weeks’ hire!

Will he be hiring a smart lawyer?
But he can’t pay Barrister Moore Sawyer!
Of seven children did he sire,
Now, praised procreation does him tire!
Will he be going for the ropes or plain wire?
Then, Satan is a very good liar!...

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Trump Forever Will Fume

In room in Mira Lago Trump will fume,
And he is an idiot  who likes to bloom;
In each place,
A basket case;
Each day deeper does appear his doom.

Jim Horn

Write some poems using these 
words below.

acquire ecclesiastical attire 
bier brier buyer choir crier 
denier desire dire drier empire 
entire expire fire friar higher 
hire inquire liar mire prior  
require retire sire spire squire 
supplier tire transpire trier 
vampire wire...

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You will want me someday,
  worse than I want you.
It will be too late then,
   I won’t ever feel this way again.
You think by your distance
  that I’ll stop loving you.
You’re wrong.
I’m no longer the fool you think I am.

I see it clearly, know what I need to do,
  afraid of saying it won’t stop me.
You lied and hurt me bad
   let me say it then,
this is my very last goodbye 
  and I bravely walk away.
You will be the crier now.
You’re loser in this game you’ve played....

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Blocking calls
Written: by Miracle Man
8/6/2019

I have personal thoughts I oft share each day,
From these, deep discussions, often come into play.
These give off good vibes, causing me to feel strong, 
And differing opinions makes neither one wrong.

But there’s a man on our town I call the town crier,
He proliferates gossip when calling to inquire.
He feels its imperative that he spread all news,
Which necessitates always doing a mental peruse.
(If I pick up)
...

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