To honor someone’s talent
While excusing certain views
Which the world may deem offensive
Is the stuff that makes the news.
For a well-endowed museum,
With a Costume Institute,
Planned to showcase a designer
Who’s the face of ill repute.
Known for comments that disparage
People different from his type,
Nonetheless, his output thrives
With many drawn into the hype.
Yet the show for Galliano,
With Ms. Wintour’s staunch support,
Raised the hackles of some donors
And those critics got to thwart
What, to me, was recognition
That should surely be reserved
For designers with both talent
And integrity observed.
Sometimes those with too much power
Make decisions which, I’d bet,
Turn the tide to flow against them,
Though they harbor no regret.
The rest of us
could never compete
Roosters strut
sadly behind
with unnoticed
orange hackles
Pheasants scratch
at the dirt
He ruins rainbows
with feathered ego
and metallic iridescence
We all guffaw
because we don’t know
what to do
Turquoise plumage
always wins
It may be affected by political acts.? Yet a
History of relevant fact, is what was done
Under the sun.' In recounting of its gristle
And bristles? Why are hackles raised.? Why
Are heckles made.? Why shout about odds.
If the numbers aren't stacked.'
Its what it is
Or is for some? That the rub.' If its not that
Malleble.? Then they show not love.'
Although in the halls of power, are virtues
Touted, in a ( broad aside ) they
are quite usually, and most wilfully flouted.'
Dear Kitty, today, I sing your everlasting praise,
I, your humble Frisky, dog next door,
bark a heartfelt word and phrase,
though, both of us are alive no more,
and, though my hackles, you did raise
when you walked upon the wall
dividing our two yards.
To eat you, I tried hard,
but I could only jump so high, and never did you fall.
Dear Kitty, it's heaven now where we two play
as we while away each blessed day,
where up here, too, a wall divider,
where you may tease and prance.
as I bark, "I want my teeth inside her,
if she'd just give me a chance".
There is no other cat than thee,
for me to chase, I truly say,
to Kitty, the cat that won't ever fall, for all eternity.
Head buried beneath the wind
hung-up
grasping an overhang
hugging
the thin bones of wiry tussocks
At the moor's edge
where the cliffs-drop
rocky teeth
gnaw at the sky
a jutting ledge
raises it hackles
fingers scrabble
skinned toes curl
wet boots creak
Turn an ankle here
and you may fall
unleashed
Cling
Do not
enter your mind
where whipped dogs cower
Gunner
What has woken you, Gunner? What is it you hear?
Can you sense the beat of heavy engines drawing near?
There’s been no alert, Gunner, the lads are all at ease.
But you know something’s up, don’t you? Won’t you tell us please?
I heard that little growl, Gunner, low and in your chest.
Is the time right now, Gunner? Should we end our rest?
You’re straining at the sky now Gunner. What is it you see?
A skein of passing geese, or our dreaded enemy?
I see your hackles raised Gunner, it’s time to ring the bell.
The other guns will follow suit, they trust your instincts well.
The crews are all closed up, Gunner, before the siren’s wail,
We all know you were right from the twitching of your tail.
There they are above, Gunner, just like your growl predicted,
And thanks to you, we’ve limited the damage they’ve inflicted.
The enemy has fled, Gunner, they’ve turned around and run.
Now go and get your well-earned rest, underneath our gun.
At the moor's edge
where the cliff-drop gnaws the wind
and a jutting ledge raises it hackles,
fingers scrabble, skinned toes curl
within stiff-jawed boots.
Turn an ankle here,
and you may fall
unleashed
to die somewhere
out of sight.
Do not enter your mind here
in that place
where a whipped dog cowers.
Cling,
rope yourself to the sky -
Growl.
Noshing time
for but a moment muzzled
to bring vaccinations
up to date
Far from a ceasefire
this is but a pause
without relief
for the pending prey
it is palpable
The paws that pace
the hackles that raise
the eyes that are laser fixed
that a purpose bred
purpose trained
war dog
lays in wait
Head buried beneath the wind,
hung, grasping an overhang,
hug the thin bones of wiry tussocks.
At the moor's edge
where the cliff-drop, gnaws at the sky,
a jutting ledge raises it hackles,
fingers scrabble, skinned toes curl
within creaking jawed boots
Turn an ankle here,
and you may fall
unleashed
to die somewhere.
Cling!
Laugh at yourself.
Do not enter your mind,
where your whipped dog cowers.
Soft-shelled things by their sources laid
On spots assuring them no raid:
In my poultry picked up by maid,
With care handled or her upbraid
“Boiled or Omelets but with bread,
For my breakfast do as I’ve said!”
I’d quip: Mirror Image of Earth!
As birds live, we’ll record no dearth,
In shape completely the oval -
All Eggs and The Earth are global….
Egg-laying time the hen cackles,
With man’s presence: rising hackles!
Snakes wouldn’t want you to come near;
Once you do, for your heels I fear,
That of Powerful Eagle rare:
Sure, The Eagle won’t seekers spare!
The glad choice of some shrines and gods;
Extend them and they’ll drop their rods;
You won’t again be hit like pods;
From then a life of happy nods…
When dropped or found on the ground: eggs
Time to carefully drag one’s legs;
Why each week in my abdomen?
Not its yolk liked: it’s Albumen.
For those who lack conviction
Aspirations stay but a mirage
And for those crafting mountains from mole hills
Detriment a deadly barrage
Believers of strange eyes upon them
Flaunt shame as a wristed corsage
And without the courage to soften their hackles
Lie confined in their mind's dank garage
Jongleurs of fabled failures
Treat their worry to massage
Subjecting the rest of their dreadful days
To vexation's entourage
Clever inventors of futuristic fear
Paste pictures to a specious collage
And blame the world around them
Imaginary Sabotage
Reaching out,
stepping out
into the beyond.
Feeling the stars
bathing your vista
with twinkles and sparkles.
Venturing beyond is a journey
through a time warp's
quivering door
with fate swathing your body
in expectation,
like seawater does
when you plunge into the dark sea,
carefree with eyes closed.
You've turned your back on sameness's tug,
and shed the hackles and snares
of past cares
that tugged you down
like ropes swung over
pegged at each end.
Beyond your reach, now
you're free at last
to soak up, enjoy and imbibe
whatever comes your way.
Lips toothy smiles never desert:
For one's main course pays plus dissert
A granted walk by a bush stopped,
A political subject dropped!
Eyes searching for yours, finding them
Eyes proclaiming you a rare gem...
Soon, breathing down a not-warmed neck;
A time,if you're wise,him check.
Ladies should go beyond 'Recoil'
Their hackles rise,their blood boil
"Heh guy!I see that you're trying:
My eyes have yet to start lying!"
The war is against reduction
From submission to seduction.
Could it your fancy tickle:
The fluid you need does trickle;
Legs once free like vehicles
On Stopped Feet of Manacles?
Won’t it up get one’s hackles
That one often tasks tackles
Others’ Wrists not in shackles
For what one down to buckles?
You others tag ‘The Fickle’
Fit only for the sickle;
Expo sure to ridicule:
Lots of in Article
That you know “Just Bicycle”
Swearing on “No Icicle!”
Honestly, I won’t like it,
Though shan’t jump into a pit!
On a football pitch a frosty foul,
Spared by The Referee his booking howl
But not The Goalie’s condemning growl …
Just badly kicked was his jowl
By the scorer now wearing a scowl!
“The Luckiest-Red-Card-Excused Owl!”
Irrepressibly rise would one’s hackles,
After The Roughest of play tackles.
Whoever does not spleen vent in shackles,
As even a hen wronged by half cackles …
Now, what is clearly at stake
Is something of his he must take:
“The ball leaving to dive at legs
And keep hitting them as owner begs!”
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.