Hatchet Poems

Geronimo - 1829-1909

1905
Geronimo went to Washington
to meet the Great White Father
(where he hoped to bury the hatchet)
and save his Indian Nation...
checking into his hotel, the desk clerk asked,
"Do you have a reservation?"
The perfect poker face when playing cards
(his guards were nearly always broke)
said to be blood-thirsty, his winnings used he
to pay for educating children of the Apache.
He

Tuff Stuff

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!

A Hatchet Faced Guy

He was a hatchet-faced guy with snaggle-teeth,
most said he was okay in a peculiar way.

It happens sometimes;
snaggle-toothed hatched faced guys get itchy,
the kind of itch you can't buy a cream for.

After his first three murder victims
he confessed to the cops
that he felt like the very hand of God!

He was a squirrely guy if you know

The Hatchet

burst of hatchet
aroma of pine
woods in winter.

Burying the Hatchet

Nobody ever forgets where he buried the hatchet. ~ Kin Hubbard 

Riley was a control freak
barking orders at his wife
who'd scurry like a timid mouse
knowing if she didn't conform
a barrage of blows would rain down on her body

Of course, he made certain
not to mar her pretty face -
he needed her to look good
when she collected

Nobody Ever Forgets Where He Buried the Hatchet

Sitting on a stone my hands brushing against the cold water
I gaze upon the night sky searching my reason in the heavenly bodies 
floating up in the universe...
The secluded life which I had chosen away from all the hustle 
and noise of the humans, was it a wish to attain peace?
In my heart I truly

Hatchet-Faced Guy

He was a hatchet-faced guy and snaggle-toothed.
Most said he was a good guy,
but sometimes it happens 
with snaggle-toothed hatched faced guys,
in time they get itchy,
the kind of itch you can't buy a cream for.
After the first murder he felt better,
after the second, better still,
after the third he felt like the very hand of God.
He was

Lust Hatchet

lust is a silky feather to the loins - a rusty hatchet to the soul

Hatchet Man

Donald Trump promised a Flat Tax
But cuts are more "Hi!" chat than axe
As sly as a fox
The Trumps loot Fort Knox
With lies quite shy of the facts

Burying the Hatchet

Burying The Hatchet
©Ben Burton 4/7/2018

When burying the hatchet, make it deep
Thus none who travels by might ever see
That designee of senseless, squandered time
Wherein the guilt lies not in any crime
Save arrogance or stubborness gone wild
Which should have been abandoned as a child
The path that leads us to maturity
Yields tolerance for those who disagree
For rancor clouds

The Hatchet

Hatchet in the tree
Hatchet in the snow
A snowman’s hand gripped
A snowman slashed low
Low falls the timber
Low level UV light
Light reflects white
Light will then entice
Entice by photoelectric effect
Entice by photons in cadence
In cadence with yuletide
In cadence with Christmas time
Time is itself a gift
Time and time again
Again the winter solstice
Again the world will spin
Spin on it's axis
Spin

A Heart Made Hatchet -2

Hannah, I haven't seen or heard you cry
not in the gray of winter day
or in the cold silence of our prisoner nights,
the others can hardly keep up with you on the marches
your face is changeless as polished steel
and you speak like thunder in the distance...
Would you like me to say that Hell isn't real...
No Hannah,

A Heart Made Hatchet -1

I've never seen a baby so merry as Martha...
They say March newborns are bellwethers for blissful Springs Mary...
Hannah, Haverhill has been a hard place to call home
I'm sorry about Elizabeth's hanging, 
Thomas has honored you with every ounce of his heart, 
eight of your children have survived the birth storm...
Mary, I'm grateful for your gritty

To Not Bury the Hatchet

The genesis of its life;
 Inadvertent step on the toe.
 The little dark seed is planted;
 A spark starts a fire.
 An enemy is born.
 The valley of the shadow 
 Of unforgiveness;
 A fiery way for hatred
 Roasts dark
 The heart borne out of purity
 Of the creator.
 Desperateness to kill
 Metamorphoses the pious.

Burying the Hatchet

Of all the things I do resent,
Time takes most precedence;
For He's a Thief- the giver of Grief,
And a Lover of the Present...

Today he plots to plague my thoughts,
And wrought His plans for Pain!
Ideals are fraught, my Mind hath caught-
His buried hatchet in my Brain

• Short Hatchet Poems
• Famous Hatchet Poems
• Best Hatchet Poems
• Read Hatchet Poems
• Long Hatchet Poems
• Hatchet Quotes