Best Hammer Poems
“I am the monster that breathing men would kill. I am Dracula.”
Bram Stoker
The successive pounding of the hammer.
The stake in his heart took my breath away.
Came the bright torches, village clamor,
the successive pounding of the hammer.
Rosin of the vampire, screeching glamour,
tightening of cold hands, recant to pray.
The successive pounding of the hammer.
The stake in his heart took my breath away.
10/28/2020
There is a hammer on my keyboard
Taking me hostage
Reminding me of something I wanted to do
Yesterday but did not get around to it
I stare at it, and glare at it,
Angry beyond belief.
That I kept saying I wanted to
hang those sixty-five canvases,
and yet, there they are, not one hung up.
The mean hammer has been
Thrown across the room now,
It no longer bothers us,
My gloating keyboard and me.
Hammer hits the jewelry counter.
encounter with a criminal - yesterday.
She was working to make some money.
Instead received a knife -
now her life hangs in the balance.
Police caught the perpetrator,
after havoc was released,
along with screams.
I almost went to the same store
the day before…
the day before…
I was at another mall yesterday,
when this situation became grave.
9/4/2022
Your mother always yelled at your father to fix the nail protruding from the kitchen floor.
“It’s going to hurt someone someday,” she would bicker,
but your father hid his face behind his newspaper as she spoke.
The nail remained sticking up from the ground,
but you taught yourself how to walk around it
just like you taught yourself when to exit and enter the room.
Your mother’s heavy voice was like a fire alarm
telling you to evacuate the scene and leave your father in the flames,
but there was nowhere for anyone to go---
he forgot to build a fire escape.
She tried to leave hints for him around the house:
A hammer on his pillow,
spare nails in his pockets,
but naturally his fingers picked around them
like playing a guitar.
She had given him all the notes,
but he preferred to play his own tune.
Eventually she had given up on shouting,
for she was tired of hearing only her echo.
Each couldn’t feel the other.
He could not hear her words that dropped like stones,
she could not hear his weightless language of silence,
and you could not speak in a house enclosed with two deaf parents.
One day you came home and saw that your mother’s side of the bed was made nicely
like it hadn’t been slept in for days.
It was cold and stiff, preserved like a shrine.
That same day you went into the kitchen to reach for the phone,
but tripped over the nail emerging from the floor
and went clattering down beside it.
Christianity: “hitting yourself over the head with a hammer so that when you stop it feels so good.”
Judaism: “hitting yourself over the head with a hammer because you are a chosen one.”
Muslim: “It feels good hitting other people over the head with a hammer.”
Hinduism: “Watching everyone else hitting themselves and others with hammers and finding it amusing.”
Sikhism: “Letting the Guru hit you over the head with a hammer so that when he stops it feels so good.”
Confucianism: “Hitting yourself and your family members over the head with a hammer, in a highly refined manner, for the sake of the community.”
Theravada Buddhism: “There is no one to do the hitting, no hammer, no people to hit and it feels horrible.”
Mahayana Buddhism: “Telling other people that there is no one to do the hitting, no hammer, no people to hit and it feels horrible.”
Vajrayana Buddhism: “There is no one to do the hitting, no hammer, no people to hit and it feels fantastic.”
Jainism: “Please stop hurting all the poor hammers!”
Rastafarian: “Let’s make a hammer shaped spliff! “
Daoism: “Hitting yourself over the head with hammer without hitting yourself over the head with a hammer.”
Masonic: “Let’s sell all these stupid people hammers.”
You always laughed at me In that funny way of yours
Standing at the door ~ looking out to see
Wondering where you are, and will you follow me
With hammer in hand ~ Into nature decked with
silver and gold
Do you possess a loving heart with stories untold
By now they know what you are made of
Reflections that come from your eyes they see
Though they walk with you in a style of their own
Shaped into the figure of a man with beauty of a woman
A tree in the forest is cut down shaped into the form of a goddess
A goddess that will take us through time and back again
Though time is an elusive thing here as we all know
Hammer in hand into nature decked with silver and gold
Time means nothing when the heart is near I am told
Does a tree feel the pains of a cut as we do, I ask you
I have struggled all my days with thoughts like these
To figure out what the true meaning really is to me
If you know can you tell me too as we walk together
With hammer in hand into nature decked with silver and gold
With my hammer
Held in my hand
I can destroy a building
Or make it stand!
This amazing tool
Has much use
It can pound something in
Or pry something loose.
I can use it
As a crutch
Or to break ice
For tea at lunch!
I can grip it tightly
To strengthen my wrist
It can be a weapon
Like my fist.
Yes, my hammer
Is a nifty tool
As the tongue
For both, the wise and fool!
The tongue can build up
Or tear someone down
It can pound in hate
Or spread love around!
A tongue can speak loosely
Without a care
Or gently whisper
And cry out in prayer!
Oh, the tongue
Is such a little member
Much like my hammer
( I must remember)
It can be used
To strengthen my soul
Or as a weapon
Spinning out of control!
Like a raging fire
The tongue can destroy
But in God’s grace
It will bring much JOY!!!
Written by Stacey Brown
7-28-14
In the Orient it's called Karma,an inescapable butcher of beasts continuously chopping,slicing & trimming the meat of our mentalities,precisely weighed,
Occidentally the official judge of justice is commonly greeted as God,punisher of aggravated appetites,gatekeeper to the blissful & blightful kingdoms,
perhaps there are astral accountants tabulating spiritual treasures of ours,scribing with blood & bones,celestial lawyers indicting us on ancient legalities,
no action eludes the energy of Nature's ear & eye,to sing with no voice or weep with no tears is to try & erase facts from flesh,removing silt from river,
sometimes good fortune arrives in our awry lives,unanticipated & unsolicited like dreams of victory teaching us its possible to outdo the odds,dance on defeats,
however,recompense is irrevocably required by the Divine source as agony is requisite for birth,a timeless tax that gives everything a welcome worth,a value,
a mother who delivers a deformed child,small business owner increasing sales,a professor thats worshiped,pastor of an indigent church,self content poor man,
the purse of Providence is heavy & organic like a full belly always digesting,making space for more & more charity & confiscation,smote with a kiss,
a balance of thefts & rewards,lies that give loss,love that provides learning,poverty that lends perspective,sorrow sowing strength,profits producing paranoia,
justice is a blacksmith that will heat you & cool you,strike you & smooth you,shape you into something appropriate for your properties,polish your planes -
J.A.B. 2010
I did not write for many years;
Nay! I ne'er penned a verse!
I was too consumed by fears:
The kind that cripple first...
Ev'ry thought was coarse- was terse!
A concrete Heart about to burst!-
Devoured by Dragons when I fell off the wagon-
Please, stop reading, and call me a hearse!
*"Writing" Contest Entry*
Once there was a man called Hammer, the Don
the power of legislation to execute judgement he owns
his fort is full of "inhibitions" = "grudge"
his policy "no flattery only boasting" judge!
bloody this hammer should come to light.Done!
I've got a hammer.
It's God's Word in my hand.
He will break every rock,
in my way where I stand.
Problems, like boulders,
will feel like crushed sand,
when we stand on God's Word,
and reach for His hand.
Yes! I've got a hammer,
and you've got one , too.
It's the Holy Bible,
God speaking to you.
So pick up God's hammer,
on the rocks in your path.
Striking with His Word,
will defeat Satan's wrath.
Satan has no authority
over Christians on earth.
We are empowered
by Christ's Holy Word.
God gave us a hammer.
Praise Him for His Word.
And all over this earth,
let His wisdom be heard.
Authors notes: Jer 23:29 Is not my word like fire, and like a hammer that breaks into pieces the rock? Also, see Job 28:9 and Ps 18:1-3
I see my hands swing in front of me, striking, penetrating, shattering the object of my blow.
The sheen on the forged metal head glitters the suns bead as it slams the course fortress layered below.
Strike after strike,
the sledge forces its way into the spaces that splits and spits out dust,
choking on itself,
taking full advantage of the weakening wall of stone.
Its gap digs deeper and opens anew.
I'd got out the hammer, the hatchet and pliers
To attack the package of plastic and wires.
But the fix was so tricky,
The stickum so sticky,
I'd not even scratched it when I set it on fire!
(William Hammer, Thomas Alva Edison's assistant,
has reached the end of his tolerance. His boss is
planning to electrocute an elephant for a publicity
stunt.)
If he goes through with this, the dam has burst.
I'm done with him. Of all the tricks he's pulled,
this is the lowest, cheapest, cruellest. Worst.
Yes, Edison. He can't be serious,
can he? To execute an elephant?
He's out there, grinning like a Barbary ape.
Where two or more newspapermen are gathered,
Alva loses all his self-control.
He'll be there now, perspiring, shouting, lathered,
excited to his flinty, vulgar soul.
I'm William Joseph Hammer. Who are you?
A quarter-century I've spent with him,
but now the scales have fallen from my eyes.
The man's a pirate and a charlatan.
Inventor? Him?
Well, since I'm stranded here
in shabby Coney Island in the rain,
ignored and slighted, spited yet again,
I'll tell you. Edison did not invent
the light bulb - that's what he employed me for.
Besides, I'll name a dozen scientists
who'd made a working lamp some years before.
What is he good at? He's a patent-mill!
He takes out patents like a dentist, teeth
(except that dentists never put their name
on what they've pulled). The man has got no shame.
The team has all the talent, he the grin:
we think the thoughts, and Alva cashes in.
I think he's met his match in Westinghouse.
The so-called war of currents. Who will win?
America will buy one set of goods,
and where this country leads, the others go.
To get his system in American homes,
He'd kill his grandma.
Hence this all-time low.
He's worse than Czolgosz. At the very least,
the latter had nobility, although
misguided. Alva has no other cause
beyond himself. Those motion picture-things
are here for Alva's glory. When the blow
extinguishes that poor beast's life, you'll know
whose self-promoting hand was on the tiller.
Saint Thomas Alva Edison's a killer.
Who can hear, the mornings call?
The dead dove's body, as it des fall.
Who can see through, the dead man's eyes?
As the burning sun, falls from the skies.
What once was new, has now become old,
What once was alive, has now become cold,
What you believed, was worth a lot,
Is burnt to ashes, in the melting pot.
Let's start again, I hear them say,
Let's start again, another day,
Let's make again, what we made before,
Spill more blood, on the kitchen floor,
Lift the cross, up on the hill,
Load the guns, to fight and kill.
Fight and slaughter, till there's non one left,
Till your mind is empty, your heart is deaf,
You thought that, I was a soldier too,
You thought that I said, I love you,
But I tell you now, and I tell it true,
The angles of heaven, and the angels of hell,
Are riding now, to the ring of deaths bell.
What you thought, was silver and gold,
Are ashes and dust, on the open road,
What you knew was good, what you knew was true,
The hot sun has dried, like the morning dew,
The very memory, of hope and despair,
Is lost in the hole, of your soul laid bare.
The empty hole, behind the clouds,
The music and the laughing crowds,
Are dead and gone, have faded away,
As a new sun rises, on a bright new day,
I tell you now, and I tell you true,
As the hammer of me hits the anvil of you