Short Mallet Poems

A zapped mallet 
She wields in her feeble hands 
Every heart is nailed...

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and now we bask in the bloodlust
waiting for another reason
to whimper,
“why do they hate us?”...

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Free the spirit from the stone and the wood.
With chisel and mallet carve 
whatever it tells you....

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The sculptor selects 
a mallet and a chisel, 
repositions the 
rock, creates the tailings to
pave the statue’s patron path....

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I’d be fair yet tough
N rule the courtroom
With a iron mallet, fist
Saying order in the court
& sentence killers
N others as I see fit...

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The life in the wood will be revealed by the wood carver.
Chipped away with chisel and mallet; wood displays its secrets.
Wood carvers release the spirits trapped within the wood....

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The life in the wood will be revealed by the wood carver.
Chipped away with chisel and mallet; wood displays its secrets.
Wood carvers release the spirits trapped within the wood.

...

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young mind
gray skies
tough times

high walls 
eight ball
another fall

storm upon storm
heart half torn
patience worn

another challenge
swing the mallet 
another soul callous

                            sweet blue horizon- you've grown into your smile...

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sat on a pallet
with big blow hit my wallet
met with a mallet

read all of the facts
body looked like battle ax
that never attracts

walked along with Luke
disagreed and did rebuke
a crazy old kook

would be atrocious
did eat things when ferocious
also delicious...

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Jerry was running from Tom
The day it all went down
A mouse had the upper hand
And one cat wore a frown

On a quest with his mallet
As good as being in dark
That mouse was hard to get
Evading without one mark

Things were good for Jerry
He could always run away
Tom did what he always did
Plan for yet another day...

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The alter has all but fallen...

Once powerful in awe...

The struggle, canal, of waves dissolve...

Great divide stand wilt...

The cries touched with chords
of Braille...

enticed outstretched mallet   
drive in another nail...

bystanders reel in wrath...

All consumed by an energy...
they too, themselves...

yet tapped......

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Molder of mega minds
Tracker of tiny time
I write mountaintops
To read the bottom line

Storm catacomb castles
Swarm like Hollywood hustle
Transform fat into mighty muscle
Warm and happy
With an afternoon apple

Fruit salad ballads
Round about rapids
Cool off in a bath of acid
Knock the voices out of my head
Using a rubber mallet...

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Blunt mallet wallops down,
On an iron nail, that pierces flesh,
And shatters bone and meets resistance,
In the hard wood beneath.

I try to imagine the feeling,
By pressing a biro into,
The palm of my hand;
I think I can………………..






NOTE: The Romans crucified thousands of people and this poem is dedicated to all of those 
victims....

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I ...
sit by the
window ...
cold, damp air
wrapping
tendrils 'round my
nape,
reminding me of
February ...
of her ... of farewell
chill thoughts
gather like
a knot
in the back of
my skull ...
thrumming like Thor's
mallet -
commending the
haughty
hell that dripped
from her
baby-soft
bows
like honeyed poison ...
to ruin
me....

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When a mallet strikes a crystal bowl 
It causes vibrations to penetrate the mind and enter the spirit 
A magical power that 
wipes away worry and pain 
as mystic vibes touch the soul - enlightening as well as healing 
The Buddha nature is in us all 
as we strive for the truths we need 
Let the sounds carry you to a place 
Where fear and anxiety do not exist 
Where all sounds blend into one sound
Om...

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hammer
               handy, headed
     clutching, sounding, striking
bludgeon, mallet, pinpoint, fastener
  protruding, retracting, projecting
                pointed, rusty
                       nail



Date created: 07/03/2022...

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In the bible it states that no sin is more fraudulent than another,
so in this mighty country that we have labelled the Home of the Free,
why do we judge each other, constantly dropping the judicious mallet that belongs to God,
point fingers and ridicule the next man,
determined to cause fright,
but inside we are petrified it might,
be our turn to face this judgmental fight,
what will they say when your sins are broadcast... Under the Lights...

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A moon interrupted; 
riles the social class. 
A native sense comes of age.

Piercing stare becomes rarefied,
unbuttons the peaks and 
kills you with a mallet.

The scared mask falls 
off the divine embrace, lets 
free the pigeons from the golden cage.

The forked tongue will 
speak only truth. Blood 
was the only stain, washed easily.

I will get the tan 
in moonlight only. My scars 
will remain invisible in silver.



Satish Verma...

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Faithless mallet
O' governing gavel
See me upon my knees
Prepared to grovel

For it was peace I sought
But chaos I wrought
In a fit of rage
I burned the page

Faithless mallet
O' governing gavel
How I've done it now
The world now weeps
But my end it will know

For salvation I need
For it I shall surely bleed
I shunned my faith
Now I face the wraith

Faithless mallet
O' governing gavel
I believe not in you
Nor this faithless justice...

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Oops. That was a very big tumble
Now everyone around me mumbles
I didn't mean for it to show
But everyone went woah
Nonetheless, it was still a big fumble.

After all, what dropped was my mallet
It priced at all i had in my wallet
Now all they feel is fear
Even though it’s just a sphere
It’s not like its a gun and a bullet.

People need to chill out
They just don’t see my clout
This is harmless
Because I’m armless
So as they watch, I sit here and pout....

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Parted curtains
puff of smoke.
Parlor trick
or cruel joke?

First a bat,
then human form—
eyes aglow,
fangs enorm.

And in the mirror,
no image there;
it stilled my heart
and stifled prayer.

But Drac was old
and suffered so;
his timing off,
reactions slow.

As he lunged
I stepped aside;
mallet ready,
his chest I eyed.

He lay there stunned,
at last my break;
I then asked how
he’d like his stake.

2nd Place, Poems from the Vampire, Just That Archaic Poet...

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The sweet, dead myrrh
of new cowhide
never ceases to please--
it is palpable, tempered,
clay to touch, a naked
casing of imaginings.

We moisten it, make it cool
to cheek, dry it to immaculate
canvas, a pale flesh
of flame and warm breath.

Gently, we mallet it to meaning,
carve it to incandescence,
an unspoken speaking.

It is indigo water
in crackled blue vases
on sun-brimmed afternoons.

It is contentment
of satin skin, beveled roan flower--
a poem at tongue’s edge....

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