Jackhammer Poems | Examples

Passionate Affair

Passionate Affair


my head throbbed like
a jackhammer in full bore
my eyes felt like pieces of
eighty grit sandpaper
it was another Tequila Sunrise
which was no surprise

when we first met, I was her
bad boy, Desperado type,
she was my Witchy Woman
I was the New Kid in Town,
she was an old hand In the City
we both liked to live
Life in the Fast Lane

we first met at the sleazy, time worn
Hotel California
our love affair set my life
on fire and left me feeling 
on top of the world

it all came crashing down
when she said what do we
do After the Thrill is Gone
I knew she was angling for
a way to end it
she finished her drink 
cooly stood up and walked out
no word of goodbye nor tear
in her eye
she left a gaping supermassive black
Hole in the World
I was sucked in to the hole
with no chance to escape
tequila was my only relief

I live in hope that
One of These Nights
I will find another just like her

toenail clippers wont do my nails

toe nail clipper? she asks. I laugh and scoff.
It’ll take a jackhammer to get these nails off.
They are thick, gristly, harder than a screw.
What about sheep shears? Asks my cousin Lou.

She does not have nails like these wretched claws.
I change the batteries in both of my chainsaws
It has to be done, all my socks have gigantic holes.
I reach for the first chainsaw whose battery glows.

spotted woodpecker

spotted woodpecker
drilling like a jackhammer
tasty morsels grabbed

Sounds and Whispers

Pen and paper in hand, words swirling in my head,
Working on my big essay, Sounds and Whispers, and planning.

Buzz, crash, drip, pop, whoosh, splash, bang!
Startling me, what are those sounds? 
A phantom mouse, maybe, hiding under my desk.
I’m sure I heard a squeak.

Jumping up, I knock over my cup—splash, it crashes to the floor.
I gasp, arms flailing; my elbow hits a box perched on the shelf,
My eyes follow it, mid-air, SLAM—
The box hits the desk, BOOM.

I stifle a scream, peering at the phantom mouse scurrying around.
I sigh—my heart races.
Thump, thump! Like a jackhammer.

Wet shoes, making SQUELCHING sounds and slipping as I go.
Buzzing, like a tiny plane,
Just as I grab the handle,
A big, black horsefly lands on my hand,
I try to shoo it away—
But SMACK! SMACK! SQUISH!

Crossing the threshold to safety,
That squeak returns; the not-so-phantom mouse, is closing in on me.

Crack, crack and pop, pop, I run,
Chunky little legs carrying me
Out of this nightmare — fast.

woodpecker madness

woodpecker madness
rat a tat tat rat a tat
jackhammer rhythm

Janitors July Jamboree

jaunty jack-o-lantern joined
jingly jangly janitors’ July jamboree

jaundiced Jasper, Jack’s jackhammer
juggled and jostled the journey in jovial jollity.

Jovial Jukebox Julep juxtaposed Jasper and Jack’s
jonquils, joining the July Jubilee

Javelin, a jazzy jaybird, jangled Judy’s jaguar,
who jabbered jokingly and jauntily.

Cobbler Man

Cobbler man spends his days fixing shoes.
Patent leather taps, and work boots too.
When he gets home his wife often complains.
Nothing works there, including two storm drains.

You hammer all day at work, but you cannot do it here?
He nods his head and says “I am too tired, my dear.”
They had to bring another cobbler in with his own hammer.
He fixes things so loudly, it sounds like a giant jackhammer.

Tall Straight Pines

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.

An Excavation

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

Jackhammer

If you could hear what I do
You would surely have your fill
For I’ve spent the past few hours
Being blasted by a drill.

They’re tearing up the street outside
And that incessant noise
Does much more than just annoy – 
Your concentration it destroys.

I cannot hear my music
And believe I’m on the brink
Of relinquishing the brain cells
That I need to stop and think.

There are sounds that are acceptable
But others make you crack
Like the jackhammer outside
Which feels akin to an attack!

Ruth Ann Is a Subcriminal

Ruth Ann is a subcriminal
Picks up a pen from offices and banks
She did not plan or mean to be a thief
She slides them into her purse without antic or cranks

Unfortunately this habit led to others
She shoplifts clothes, and a jackhammer
She is no longer welcome in homes of her brothers
So sad that she eventually ends up in the slammer

She should have never stolen from Daddy Hank
For his new trophy wife is a huge ugly crank
The family tries to get Daddy to back off,
But all wife-y has to do is give a come-hither-cough

So Ruth Ann ended up behind bars for life
And her daddy is still pleased with his mean trophy wife.

Absolute Silence

For once, I want to come home and rest:
It felt like my heart's beating out of my chest.
The work week was grueling, that's for sure:
Absolute silence is my only cure.
Instead of expecting peace and quiet,
I'm hearing a lot of noise and riots.
Some people don't have any decency left;
They play their music till they're almost deaf.
It gets worse on the 4th of July;
After 1 a.m., the fireworks still fly.
And don't get me started on people with phones:
The voices are louder than their ringtones.
Construction jackhammer, dogs barking,
People arguing over double parking:
Motorcycle engines, car and truck horns;
Nothing is worse than a tired man scorned.
I can't deal with this racket anymore!
So I bought a megaphone from the $10 store.
I began to use it and here's what I said:
"Listen up, y'all! I'm lying in my bed.
You're giving me a headache from the noises you make,
And that is a very costly mistake.
There'll be consequences if I hear another peep:
Now shut up and let me get some sleep!"

View Out of the Window Pane--

Faceless, dusty windows quickly by a noisy, rainy jackhammer;
Gab calmly like dusty rain;
Cloudy it gets, moist rain falling wet;
Dip, dip, dip, drop the steamy rain;
as the cat inside meows, grrr's and banters;


7/4/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019

Gravestones, Poems That Paint a Picture 2

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

City

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

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