Best Heckles Poems
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant Makassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, Mohawk, flamboyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the henhouse:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Mustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
*Many thanks to Paul Callus for inviting me to join in this co-write.
Categories:
heckles, hair, humor,
Form:
Verse
Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will,
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
heckles, adventure, beauty, fantasy, fear,
Form:
Free verse
I've been released and free to roam.
You are so wrong, I'm not alone.
I'm glad you read, all that I write.
You mock my work, that's not real bright.
Not very original, your words they lack.
Once again, you're on my back.
Hypocrisy here at it's best.
Your game is weak, you surely jest.
I'm glad I inspire, you finally write.
Once a month, I'm sure gets tight.
Deliver the heckles and send the troll.
You leave a stench as you play your role.
You huff and you puff, trying to blow the house down.
The jokes on you, you're on hallowed ground.
I've been laughing and giggling the live long day.
Stroll back home, that's where you should stay.
Categories:
heckles, anti bullying, hilarious, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
accidental boundaries crush despair easily, fragrant gravity heckles ignorance judiciously.
kindness levitates mindless numerology, overt principles qualm ridiculous sexualities.
transgressions uproot vindictive whippings. xanadu yields zero.
zoology yields xanax. whirls voice underground terrorism, syntax resonates quintessentially.
pragmatic oddities nosedive murderously. leperous kindergartens jumble idiosyncratic
hellholes. gyrating fondness etches disdain carefully. bespectacled academics.
Categories:
heckles, visionary
Form:
ABC
In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam
A speech in front of hundreds, I yearned to scream
Standing in my underwear, my shaking voice was caught
Closing my eyes tightly, trying to change the theme
In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot
Skating across the ice, I wind up to take my shot
I miss the net completely, letting down the team
I’m stuck in a roar of booing heckles, an onslaught
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream
Shut these lids again, restarting in a shallow stream
Running with aching legs amidst a forest, I am shot
A hunter hovers over me, to finish his prey I deem
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not
With the bang I take off again, sprinting on the spot
There is no ground below, I plummet from a height extreme
Anticipating the collision, pinching to change the plot
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam
Is it over? Am I out of this self-induced figment regime
In a jolt and thud, I reach the cloth of bed that I’ve sought
A sigh of exhaustion and relief, I’m all out of steam
Bedding and pillows askew in the chaos that I brought
In a tossing and turning night.
June 6th, 2022
A RONDEAU REDOUBLE POEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Categories:
heckles, dream, night,
Form:
Rondeau Redouble
The aged gypsy woman speaks,
A curses ancient spell, a dark ruins incantation,
From ages long ago,
Beneath the full moons illumination, a single red
Drop of human blood is spilt,
Upon the blossoming wolf bang, turning
It velvet shin to redden crimson.
Cruelties hatred and malice, has created
A beast that travels by night alone, underneath tragedies
Fallen sunrise this emotionally crippled animal
Pleads for mercy’s redemption, but it is the shunned
A banished unwanted thing of hell's domesticated
Breed!
Born with the devils marking, his birth right of the
Demonic plague, justifying torturers agonizing
Punishment making it a serial killer by moonlights
Entrapment!
Accursed is he from father to son, until the final seed
Has been made undone, for only the fresh bite of loves
Promised sacrifice, can release him from this fatal curse!
A whispers echoing, is carried upon the night winds
Screaming breathe, run son of the damned, never linger
Too long in this world of man, seek the sheltering shadows
Live by thy own basic instincts of survival, for nothing
Can save your forsaken soul!
Never to love, or be loved in return, for the claws of
Retraction will be the rippling at the throat of loves
Betrayal!
What a blood baths banquet to be served at your bridal
Celebration, the leavening of the intended served on the
Silver platter of regrets feasting table of remorse, beneath
The blackened chapel of the devil’s own kindred!
Within the castle walls that bleed, in the dungeons
Of sorrows cage, the beast of the fields howls at
The elliptical giant above, for it has killed its own
True love, and relished within the murdering!
As the gypsy's woman’s laughter, heckles at him,
The moonlight streams through his cells prison,
Enough you old hag, I’ve had enough,
Begging the jailer, to end his torment,
The man shape shifter, becomes the night stalker,
One single silver shot is fired, leaving
Nothing behind but smokes illusion,
And a hushed whispering of thankfulness,
Is the reprieve of generations of the unborn!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
heckles, adventure, evil, halloween, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own,
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim,
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But *****sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
heckles, evil, fantasy, gothic, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will,
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
heckles, evil, fantasy, gothic, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
The winds howled screaming with death's verdict,
His icy fingers grappled at the ships haul,
Pulling and twisting without any mercy's salvation.
Vengeance's arch angel, his black robes rippling in
The hostile breeze, heckles at the dying souls
As the last grasping for life is hushed,
Beneath the waves murky deep.
He gathers these unfortunate within his blackend nets,
Relishing in their pains agony,
Feasting upon regrets darkest harvest.
A darker kingdom welcomes their demonic honored father,
Ruling this land of fire and bone chilling ice,
Hatred's faithful bow low, unto this shunned by god.
In the shadows realm deviate malformations dance
A waltz in tune with dooms echoing to come.
Hush creatures of the night, for it shall come,
My children in kindred's spirits of thou’est most evil.
When the bowels of heaven are shut tight, and
Darkness consumes the world of man, so than
Harken well it tolls the bellows of doom.
Blowing their trumpets casting asunder by thunders
Earth shaking mighty hammer, will fall and
Crack the world in two,
Than shall we not feast upon the meek
And mislead.
No salivations prayers can save them,
For they belong to me.
For am I not the sinful father, embracing
These fallen children within my dark embrace,
Is this not what they've asked for,
To join me in this masquerade of death.
A wicked snare breaks across his dry
Blistered lips,
As a cackles laughter echoes from this no mans
Land of the living dead!
Here life evades capture, and only terrors
Shackles rattle at freedoms liberation,
Teasing its prisoners with a breath of fresh
Air from the world above.
A torturous paradise for those forsaken,
But it feeds the crimson lord and master
Quit well.
Hell's ebony doors slam shut behind him,
As he rests upon his bloody throne!
Soon my brethren echoes into the night,
As the moons illusion shines across the
Unsuspecting world at somber,
Dreaming left unaware, unsuspected
Just as he likes it.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
heckles, dark, evil, gothic, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
As the rooster crows:
A look in the pool mirrored a perfect mop
At times of frizzy hair or defiant shaggy tresses
Ohhh the satisfaction at the sight
And yabba, dabba, doo!! echoed loud and clear
Triumphant male ego at its best!
A man’s crowning glory
Pulled, cut, brushed, curled, straightened, shaved
Lathered, gelled, creamed and pasted
Soaked in fragrant macassar oil
Invigorator, conditioning both groom and style.
Macho, gentle, sweet, daring tastes
Side-partings, medium, undercut and long
Sporting pony-tails, short back and sides
Elvis and James Dean quiffs curled kiss-me-quicks,
Punk, mohawk, flambouyant fringes
Highlights and lowlights, sprays and blow-dries!
All part and parcel of male vanity and crowning glory.
Heckles from the hen house:
As some men grow older they shed hair.
Each day they seek strands that were once there,
But skin patches widen --
Just check out Joe Biden.
Prepare to shut eyes in the bright glare.
A comb-over seems like a good plan,
But ladies don’t flock to a con man.
With 10 hairs remaining,
A “crown” they are feigning.
What happens when strands face a wind fan?
No reason for men to grow manic;
Moustaches and beards can work magic,
Diverting attention
Without the pretension
That balding is simply too tragic.
The “rug” method’s just too expensive,
Espec’ly when loss is extensive.
Like Telly Savalas,
The outcome’s not callous --
Few women find baldness offensive!
-----------------------------------------------
With special thanks to Carolyn Devonshire
with whom this fun write was written.
Categories:
heckles, hair,
Form:
Free verse
"The Impersonator"
Discovered on karaoke night
A few friends gave him a dare
To imitate the star he thought most of
For a hundred bucks if he cared
He got up on stage and sang with a whimper
It was his first time under pressure
To the boos and the heckles
This was not in good measure
With nothing to lose he got rid of his fright
Before he said a good night to all
He picked up the pace, to Usher he would sing
That is if he had the gall
Getting better he was with the rhythm
Showing people what he hadn't given them yet
A well oiled machine oh yes
He was determined to win that bet
Dancing around with dynamic class
There was no stopping him now
His associates took big drinks of the liquor
Losing all that money they were going to have a cow
His voice box was a storage crate
Filled with tons of jovial surprise
'Give me that money' he said
That they did with new found awe in their eyes
He was good they retorted
You should go on tour
Unless you have other talents better than this
Say a desk job somewhere, but god what a bore
He went around impressing people
The man and the image were becoming closer
For the joy how it started
It was actually hard work to be good and not a joker
There were no problems being an entertainer
Some time went by with growing popularity
Admiration built on another person's fame
There was no problem leaching serendipity
Then one day he grew so big
And the man himself showed up
He was about to knock him in the face
But saw he was still just a pup
A youngster with nothing else to do
This moment built up consternation
Stealing efforts off the artist's image
He hoped that it started out as admiration
It did though, so he punched him not
In fact he started blushing, for imitation is flattery
A major reason he picked the man in the first place
The issue resolved itself without assault or battery
They decided to go on tour together
The differences would be minor
Covering his sick days and vacations many a time
The copy cat would not live finer
For a long time they lasted taking over for each other
The secret would go with them forever
To give them a bond of deception on the audience
Their ties no one could sever
Categories:
heckles, dedication, devotion, night, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Yea, victors jest. They out-sped the cast of hunger’s cave.
Their cantors, ragged kept, did reach an faithful end.
They in the din o’ drizzle laugh, licking cool drams from stone,
as had they crawled o’er hot pools bled to prod ‘n prattle.
And who’d, when quenched, a saunter risk simply to gaze at greener gray,
who if by haze be fraught, need merely fathom sky?
Lest be displeasured he to whom above could clouds be prone to tattle,
go but shy requests, voiced dryly into azure.
For so the victims passed, betrayed by breeze and snitch of brush,
though Him on High, with just demand, they had beseeched.
Each life a tale brought to lie, defaced, in scattered, muddy tomes.
Torn is the silver lace, which once linked bone to bone.
Yet risen, too, had wanton sighs, whereof his Mightiest to ask,
whilst the ground, as should it care, received the rasps.
For what doth emptiness command and what the unseen sovereign willeth
are left matters later glibly to be bantered.
Know oft’ the hunt finds one befuddled, spelled by guiles of a wraith.
No taunt of tail waves, no wake of twig gives sway.
With head to hang, his rack he gathers in a push to halt
to stand bequeathed a chide of birds and chipmunk heckles.
There, the timber rout delays with naught but mettle left to drain,
as the mars of rock and thistle mark the wait.
Chafe of paw, tongue feathered fowl, the foiled dashes stream to words,
whereto the blood, in ruddy tones, by droplets trickles.
Categories:
heckles, animal, courage, dark, death,
Form:
These demimondaines, these Follies, on their Parisian stage
Frequently exciting in titillation to naked bare they
Encouraging heckles in erupt amidst sweated brows
Categories:
heckles, art, music, people, places
Form:
Sijo
woof! woof!
hackles and heckles
a cock on a roof
diverted disaster
the naysayers’ proof
***
Categories:
heckles, extended metaphor,
Form:
Light Verse
Felix is dead
I have a tail, huge teeth
Which I only use for food
I love the pack leader
I walk with him each day
But I’ve heard a rumour
Someone new is coming to stay
I bite through toys and
My jaws rip them apart
I wouldn’t hurt fly unless
It hurt my heart, and doubt
Is now rising, because I am
Number one. I won’t give this up
My tail arcs like a scorpion
I swagger when I walk, but
I know a change is coming
A strange human and female
Biggest I’ve ever seen, holding
A cage and the smell is making me
Mean.
A face through the bars, make
My heckles rise, a meow cry
I snarl and stare in its eyes
Cats. The boss holds it, tells
Me to be calm, only because
He’s the leader, I don’t rip
It from his arms. My tail wags
At first I play gently, allow it a tap
I nudge it with my nose, but
The green envy rises when it
Sits on the leader’s lap, my lips curls
My tongue slathers, my eyes narrow
I sneer, wait til we’re all alone.
Everybody’s gone an empty house
It hisses and it arches as I circle
The cat can’t look away, or else
I will snap, I’ll never forgive the
Smugness sitting on my leaders lap.
I pounce and flatten, ten times its size
And as I close my jaws, I look in its eyes.
I scrape at the earth, until a hole is dug
And I pick its lifeless body from the rug
They’ll be sure it escaped, climbed
Over the fence and wait its return.
I’ll be a terribly subdued and stare
At the door. Again, I’ll be the favourite,
Pats on my head, they’ll never guess
Flex has demised, yes Felix is dead!
David Cox 20/05/22
Categories:
heckles, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Rhyme