Short Criers Poems

    Newspapers can be logs for the fire
        or non-functional rolling pins

    Obsolete as white-stockinged town criers
        along with typewriters ~ has-beens
...

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On Taking Secretaries To Lunch

If you live in the valley
know the lava above
has the tact of Comanche
demeanor of dove
Hoe furrow
don’t sprinkle
your seed
then enwire
Post sentry
tall criers
Go home
to your love

Donal Mahoney...

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Criers and Listeners
Miracle Man
4/6/2023

Mercilessly, 
many are drowning, 
in the stress of everyday life.

We cry out for help,
but most ears are only attentive
to crowd generated noise,

and thus ignore the whispering,
of a drowning, solitary voice. 
...

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The car's engine Fred often fires.
He. simply, first checks the car's tires
And off moves, tires spitting fires:
Tubular rollers end up criers;
Traffic wardens with their "Stop!" liars:
Fred at what he loves never tires!

The strength Free Fred uses he hires
From booze and kola sold by Mires...

After three months Fred's Benz for buyers!
Often worse than cars long in mires....

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Tears some men easily wipe
By smoking a waiting pipe,
The same tears most women shed
Precariously perching on a bed.
Big tears male criers crave
While on female cheeks they’d rave:
Some tears a man strenuously forces,
On the eyelids of a woman racing horses:
A wounded pride’s would eternally last,
The physically injured’s drying up fast;
The messages in men’s tears are short
The ones in women’s a well-aimed shot!...

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Asked to assemble
Things that resemble,
Henry remembers
The Racy Embers:
Months of Baptismal Fires:
For man waiting with criers
Attitude – changing September
And attitude – worsening October,
Kennedy – snatching November
And Robbers – multiplying December:
Months for ruinous steps on Mamba
And Urine’s loss of its amber.
Urged to still assemble, 
Things that resemble,
Henry remembers
His family members:
His wife whose every joke tires
And their kids, incurable liars....

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Touching  any metal un-gloved,
Turns skin to tin, fingers on fire,
Breathing inside what’s above,
Kindles lungs to a stinging pyre.
Exhaled steam is white as a dove.
Some find refuge wearing eider attire,
But hours exposure ends the tropical cove.
After a while the icy novelty tires,
As keeping calm means the need to move.
Snowmen dread mercury higher,
For melting’s their fateful groove.
Winter’s funeral march has its criers,
But in shivering’s end there is no lost love....

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My conscience came to a clearing,
Freed from clamorous cacophony
Of criers, critics, and claimants
  That commonly carp at me.

Calm, cool contemplation
Called out its care and concern:
Consider a commitment to courage
  Fortitude's clear-headed urn.

Calculating quickly a crisis,
I had come to the critical curve:
Could I commit to courage and clarity--
  Or into craven cowardice would I swerve?

My conscience had come to a clearing:
Could I conquer my demons this time?...

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