Best Jackhammer Poems
You stole my laughter and hid it well under layers of concrete
I used a jackhammer to release them and with care
Moses was our traffic cop and we floated in opposites
Our love was stricken and the wind blew us like lonely chimes
I was your orphan taken back as a suit that won't fit
I am not a fool but was
How dos it feel on your tower
Can you see me and my clear eyes
The laughter has come back to visit
Sometimes I ride it as the sea we loved
But Moses wags his finger at me and I am reminded
Categories:
jackhammer, introspection, me,
Form:
Ode
I love the sense of wonder
right after a rainstorm.
That fish bowl feel of a world
baptized anew.
The sun selects individual
leaves on which to shine.
The air is fresh as laundry on a
line.
Plump red robins scurry nun
like over the lawn
Resigned to the role of hunter
and being hunted
Sparrows impatient as over
ripe fruit on the vine
Jackhammer chatter from
branches densely entwined.
Rain drops form then slide
from blocked up gutters
A jack knife dive onto rain
pocked soggy ground
Departing clouds leave a hint
of a slate grey trail
As the garden unburdened
relaxes and exhales
Categories:
jackhammer, garden
Form:
Verse
Max Mason operated a jackhammer
in a reckless and dangerous manner.
He made threats with the machine
until a sheriff came on the scene:
Max and hammer are in a slammer.
Categories:
jackhammer, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Ah, faith! Golly gosh, life in the city!
Hustle and bustle n' a big metro wander
Exhaustion, life, anger and pretty gritty
Misty, grimy lights loudly grab a beggar
The sidewalk shops like a cold surround
Hot action, big ole' vanilla sidewalks
Graffiti walls, in dab color bound
Hot streets quietly grab nighthawks
Where is the sunny cloud vapors?
In downtown burg retreats
Out above on dark street skyscrapers
Crestin' over in mean dark streets
U' gotta love corner words
Chatter, rattle, natter, prattle
People jabber like yakkety-yak birds
Cigarettes gab under dark doorway shadow
Gazing in windows calmly at low down
In dusty, dry walk-in cafes
Grimy flowers grab at dead grass mown
Fish eyeing brutal building facades, near dead eye alleyways
Oh, noise!
Man like a machine
Never like a jackhammer that annoys
The faceless toiler that is mean and lean
Horn noise, action, in a 'crown vic'
Cabbies scowering for revenues
While crashing, dashing in street quick
O' life in bright light big city blues
Within the blah blah blah, heart of the city
You can endure all that jazz you wish it to be
Categories:
jackhammer, city,
Form:
Free verse
I cross myself, as I pass
the cross on the side of the road
What they were doing
When they departed this world?
Only the closest to them, does know
Perhaps on their way to work
A policemen, postal-worker, teacher, preacher,
nurse, doctor, lawyer, lumber jack, jackhammer operator
bus driver, taxi driver, beautician, politician
retail or grocery store clerk
Was Jennifer traveling to her first date?
Was Ronald going to college success class?
Was Rosalina renewing her immigrant worker pass?
Was James rushing to his son’s game?
Trying not to be late?
I cross myself, as I pass
the cross on the side of the road
Does it really matter, the type of road?
Whether country roads, city streets, straight roads, twisting, paved or dirt
To hold a cross it must be stalwart
How is the cross adorned?
With flowers representing life anew
The Patriot’s colors of red, white and blue
An athlete’s dangling running shoes
Is it painted with a name of fame or just ordinary and plain?
I cross myself, as I pass
The cross on the side of the road
Recognizing the soul
Departed to its final abode
By: Richard J Long, May 2013.
Categories:
jackhammer, christian, community, culture, death,
Form:
Rhyme
Staccato tantrum,
Mother Nature’s jackhammer,
doing overtime.
The notes are missing their staff;
floating aimlessly upon the wood.
There’s nothing quite so musical,
as the woodpecker.
Categories:
jackhammer, animal, bird, nature,
Form:
Sijo
Three men are digging a hole in the ground
Their supervisor is casually standing around
A bystander is not making the slightest sound
No precious pirates’ treasure will soon astound.
Dirt brought up beneath is forming a mound
One says a jackhammer is needed to pound
Hard limestone rock is starting to confound
Six feet down will lie remains of a renowned.
HONORABLE MENTION
Written June 19, 2021
For “This or That, Vol. 4” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Categories:
jackhammer, death, grave, word play,
Form:
Monorhyme
out cold: a black colloquial expression
indicating outrageous and/or
incendiary behavior
Hey, man ... your girl is out cold
Did you hear what she did to your ex?
Put the hammers on her, gave her the mean flex
I heard she didn't like what your ex-old lady
said about you
So your girl went boom,
she raised up and execute
At the park, she had all the wine and beer bottles
raised in a ghetto salute
It was getting dark,
still she proceeded to execute her beatdown,
which was pure fury and stone resolute
Your girl was out cold
I never seen her before let the steering wheel go ...
the girl just lost control
Your woman went blink
Y'know how it be, when you just react,
and don't take time to think
She was cat quick with the kicks,
she was jackhammer with the fists
She had your ex on the ground, begging her to stop
Sobbing hard and wiping her bloody mouth
Man, your woman really stung the swollen face of Nicole
Like I said: your girl was totally out cold
Bro, I never seen her act like that before
Guess you got a girl who can light you up,
should you go down the wrong, dark road
Your woman can get frosty ... deliver the heat
Got a temper like hot coals in a kettle stove;
she will burn you up, if any drama unfold
Your girl gets dangerous, nuclear postal ...
lets the atomic beast in, when she goes out cold
Categories:
jackhammer, anger, fear, girlfriend, metaphor,
Form:
Narrative
Fast, dusty cigarettes calmly drive a big, small guy.
The worker stops like an old sidewalk.
All skyscrapers hustle noisy, dead cars.
Lord, work!
O, death!
Dark, noisy doors roughly fight a old, big car.
Why does the truck shop?
All flowers grab noisy, small cars.
The job shops like a dead cigarette.
Damn, work!
The slum shops like a hot jackhammer.
Anger, exhaustion, and death.
All jackhammers get misty, grimy guys.
Work, desolation, and life.
Categories:
jackhammer, adventure,
Form:
ABC
The Old Stones and the Finch
Gravestones are made of granite;
I guess to hide the dirt,
so people don't have to come as much
to clean them.
I hate you're down there
in a vault of cement.
I want to take a jackhammer
and set you free!
See how the old stones are not crisp?
How the rain tries to free them?
How it liberates their minerals into the soil?
How they pass on as berries to the birds?
See how the finch is forever chasing Spring and Summer?
How far it follows the wind? How each year it returns with new songs from somewhere we've never been?
This is the end I want for you;
singing on a bright branch;
not waiting your turn for heaven.
Poems that paint a picture 2, contest
9-18-2017
Categories:
jackhammer, absence, death, death of
Form:
Free verse
Someone playing a concrete violin
with a jackhammer
on a midnight sidewalk,
street lights gawk,
flickering fascination,
tuning keys locked,
rosin swipes declined
chalks marks hold hop scotch trinkets
tossed into the numbered squares,
pawned now for a glass of chardonnay
and a plate of cheese
Paneled walls ache
of yesterday’s smoke rings,
scentless air fresheners,
hanging Christmas trees
presumed innocent,
only here for the music
and rear view mirrors
cherry lipstick traces on a folded napkin
crimson half circles
prints on either side
someone will be kissed tonight
I’ll take it with me
I love the flavor
Categories:
jackhammer, dream, i miss you,
Form:
Free verse
Galaxy of stars supplies
signal event in dark skies.
Tall straight pines birthed as light poles
heavens hallow grown-up roles.
Mirrored in the brook below
current venue ceases flow.
Trees denuded of their leaves
while soon empty forest grieves.
Destined now to carry light
to a busy city's night;
poles' inaugurations move
into town when works approve.
Loudly speaks the jackhammer
amid much-needed clamor;
tearing up pathway's veneer
to create an urban sphere.
Rows of trees, now rows of poles
spaced apart so man controls.
Homesick still for forest fog
they learn to cope via smog.
April 17, 2023
A bit of ekphrasis inspired by a photograph of
the Milky Way highlighting a forest of pines,
Star Dreams by Dasha Kern on Deviant Art.
Categories:
jackhammer, 11th grade, appreciation, light,
Form:
Quatrain
Women frustrate me, like Frito bags
dipped in engine grease; quite unsolvable.
But I love them regardless, queens or hags;
life without them would be improbable,
with their constant nags and lovable chaffs,
their love for jeans that cost more than my car.
They are good for company, smiles and laughs-
just make sure you pay for their drinks at the bar.
But I grow tired of the games that they play
Failures have led my patience to decay.
One took a jackhammer straight to my heart
The other chopped me up like liver tart
now I suppose I would prefer a man
they are much easier to understand.
Categories:
jackhammer, funny, people, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Broken...shattered...and scattered...these are the pieces to my life. A puzzle with no picture to look back on. Fragments of memories that form a story...A story that has long ended...As I lay on what is to be my bed I stare at the ceiling, and can only imagine what will come next. I try to close my eyes for a moment of peace, but my head is like a jackhammer on the streets of New York City...So much NOISE! WILL IT EVER END?! I'm sorry...I did not mean to blow up like that...Sometimes I wonder if I am the hero...or I am the villian. Do I make people smile, or do I make people frown? Although Robin Hood was both villian and hero, but Robin Hood was doing a bad thing for a right reason. Agh! Why am I cursed to be so numb! I can only feel the hatred I have for myself! Curse the people who created this monster...I have hurt so many, but I am the one who is hurt most. I apologize again...I am rambling nonsense. I just hate how everyday it is the same thing. The same people, the same school, the same job, and when you move on...It is the same. Same people new faces. The world is a boring place....If I was to "live life to the fullest" sooner or later life to the fullest will also become boring. Now that is saying I survive all that I do. In a way the world is also broken. The world is divided...Race...Gender...Politics...Religion. Always fighting for something... As I lay on my bed, and look through the window to see the blue sky, and cotton candy clouds I can't even raise a smile. I raise my hand up to reach for the sky, but I pull back. The world is never going to change...You are the one who has to change. You have to be the one to complete the puzzle. You can be the one to overcome all of the obstacles in your path. You are the one to glue the broken pieces, but once you have fallen into the dark pit of depression it's hard to get out. It is a fighting stuggle just to climb up...If you are alone...the fight is more like a war. Not only do you lose the will to fight, but also your sanity. It amazes me how I have not completely lost my mind. Although as the time progresses...I fear the worst for my humanity...I have tried fighting for so long...I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! WHO EVEN AM I ANYMORE? THE SOUND OF THE DRUMS BEATS HEAVY IN MY HEAD! I CAN NOT STAND THIS PAIN ANYMORE! I AM NOT A TOY YOU CAN FIX! I am broken...shattered....and scattered...
Categories:
jackhammer, deep, emotions, grief, hurt,
Form:
Free verse
Tweet pop weet whistle sleet slew tweet
I spend hours trying to write down a songbird’s notes
Robins, cardinals, wrens, sparrow, and thrush.
But I cannot capture their lyrics in our known alphabet.
I finally realized it is because they have beaks, not mouths.
They make sounds we are incapable of imitating.
Blue jay and crow are easy to mimic. Screech and caw.
Woodpecker is a jackhammer. Tatta Tatta Tatta Tatta Tatta.
But the songbirds’ lyrics cannot be captured.
Not with our current language, it is not sufficient.
This is possibly why I am enamored and thrilled to listen.
Spending hours trying to duplicate their musical score.
Brilliant red cardinals are the males, the pink ones females.
It is said they are spiritual messengers, and I have six of them.
Wrens and sparrows fly past at breakneck speed, like shadows.
Does the hummingbird make any noise at all? Mine moves like a bee.
I am totally fascinated by my song birds and their personalities.
I have a red winged blackbird that has an orange dash instead of red.
The blue jay is the most unwelcome. When he swoops down the others leave.
The black crow is the most evasive, with his loud angry, mean-sounding caw.
Categories:
jackhammer, bird,
Form:
Prose Poetry