Hackles Poems | Examples

Gunner

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.

Cling

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.

Humanitarian Pause

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

Cling

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.

Eggs Mirror Image of Earth

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.

Faux Pas

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

Beyond Reach

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.

Reduction From Seduction

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.

Honestly I Wont Like It

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!

Foul Play On a Football Pitch

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!”

Magic, Maggie For Short

Her name was Magic, Maggie for short
She loved being outside, and to cavort,
Black as coal from the local coal mine
She raised her hackles along her spine,
At night she made a soft meowing sound
Glad we rescued Maggie from the pound,
When winter came, she lived inside
We were all bereft when Maggie died.

FIRST PLACE WINNER
written March 25, 2022
"Black Cat" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori

The Dry Monsoon

The Dry Monsoon 
David J Walker


All through the town 
	On abandoned streets
They shed the prairie gown 

And danced naked at sundown
Assured that rain defeats 

The drouth that choaks and heats
The day beyond belief

Both the Moon and the
	Monsoon are made of dust

In God We Trust we pray as
  		We must 
each day then 

kneel and greet
The Westward winds 	

Our hackles raised 
in the sleepy eyes

Of another summer sunrise 
There is no surprise in

The country we call West Texas

Cockadoodles Do

woof! woof!
hackles and heckles
a cock on a roof
diverted disaster
the naysayers’ proof


***

Hoarder

Hoarder holds her hostage, heaps heavy history hysterics.
Her husband, horrific. Harried hugs humiliate. Hops, hits
hags — harmed honeymoon. Hiss harkened hellbound Harris.
Hysterical Helena hinted hate, harbinger hackles heightened, hot.
How? Hagfish homicide? Herbs? Homer helps Helena hack! 

12/18/2020
Alliteration Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper

Havoc At Halloween

Blackie mounts my broomstick every Halloween
With her silky coat and eyes of emerald green
We’re silhouetted in the moonbeam's gleam
Kitty meows so loudly if ever we are seen
Children point at us and let out a scream

Look at that black cat and the warty old witch
Blackie’s hackles rise, her meow rises in pitch -
I wish my black kitty had got a volume switch
We rise then fall as my broomstick gets a glitch
Suddenly we're both propelled into a watery ditch

Poor kitty's fur’s wet, bracken covers her left eye
We clamber from the water, and I let out a sigh
She meows like a banshee, I know the reason why...
as she's lost our big container of sweet pumpkin pie -
It’s her Halloween treat; I can’t bear hearing her cry!

Her meowing gets so loud soon it reaches a decibel
So I get out my wonky wand and repeat a magic spell
My broom flies out the ditch, the pumpkin pie as well 
We both climb onto the broom and fly off to a motel -
I’m glad we got the pie back, or she'd make my life hell!

Halloween Meow Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke

AWARDED POEM OF THE DAY 24TH OCTOBER 2020

10/23/20

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