Best Construction Poems
I've been through so much destruction
perhaps all I need is some re-construction
a moment to think and re-build what had fallen apart
to slow down and take a much needed breather
for a moment I considered just leaving it all
broke and smashed
crushed upon the floor
but slowly I picked up the pieces
I don't really know why
They search.
They probe,
within their hearts
outside their minds.
So sad.
So harsh.
These beings grind.
Their ken of peace,
displaced but kind.
Each step a question
Each
Through shadows they wander
But fechos of the past.
For solace they seek.
of peace fill the air.
Flicker of hope to oust this despair.
Many men with hard hats,
A wooden house presents itself,
Building blocks included.
Construction worker Fred, never snotty
Boastful, self-righteous, or slightly haughty
They laid him to rest
Midst tribute the best
Gold-plated, silver-edged Porta-Potty
07/26/2014
My heart has the biggest lump
In it causing a speed bump
Slowing down suitors each time
They try crossing the broken line
Warming them it's way to fast
STOP !! Do not even try to pass
Or the hole in my souls street
Will swallow you, it's not complete
And needs to be filled slowly
Repaired a little more daily
Its protected by a shield
Move in with caution, gradually yield
No parking your love this way
It will be towed until the day
This pile up and traffic jam
Wont cause crashes that go wham
There is a no passing zone
And the reason I'm alone
Until I can start construction
I will stay shyly reluctant
To overload my heart again
With crashes that never end
The speed limit on my road
Of love has gradually slowed
To the minimum it will
Learning to climb up the hill
At a pace that I will make
When I take off the love break
In New York City at Ground Zero
The World Trade Centre Tower once stood
After its grim aftermath destruction
The illustrious tower is under construction
To minimize future structural failures and other catastrophes
The new tower is design and constructed
To be earthquake, fire and wind resistance
As wind pressure increase with height distance
There have been slight changes made to the original
It is reinforced to resist compression and tension
Engineer MacGray is so far thrilled
As they are a step closer seeing the mission fulfilled
A Christian is a structure under construction
We are under a divine construction of the Holy Spirit
God is at work in you to shape and to remove your imperfections
According to that Mighty Glorious Power of His resurrection
Your life may be of no rhyme or reason
The Master Engineer is at work to bring balance, symmetry and order
He is reinforcing His ideas for a spiritual transformation
The Holy Spirit is empowering His new creation
The structure is not built in a single day
Neither is His Divine Masterpiece
So as the Master Designer hammer and chisel your wall with affliction
Though painful, remain silence for you’re under a divine construction
For the House when under construction was built of stone prepared at the quarry so that no hammer or chisel [noise] was heard in the temple while it was being built [1kings6:7]; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure [Phil 2:13]
Two lanes are forced to merge to one
So traffic's slowly crawling;
On sunny summer weekends
Such delays are quite appalling.
For miles and miles we creep along -
The cars, the vans, the trucks;
I think we'd all agree
That road construction really sucks!
I'm
under
construction.
God's not finished
yet.
I am in this world
But, I am not of this world
I walk beside you
But I am not your friend
You greet me warmly
But, you never let me belong
I am just a creature
In the oasis of fairytales
I am as disenchanted with you
As you are with me
But, you need me
And I need you
It’s a destructive cycle
I am a creature
In this oasis of fairytales
I hear the thunder
Within my soul
But, I cannot dance
There’s one you see
Who holds the key
And she’ll never let me out
I am a creature
In this oasis of fairytales
U
N
D
E
R
C
O
N
S
T
R
U
C
T
I
O
N
Construction Tips
It doesn't matter how fine your house.
Or what kind of trips you took.
What car you drive or how much cash;
The Bank records in your books.
How famous you are will soon pass away;
And you will be yesterday's news.
Your beauty will fade, and you hair fall out;
But what of the choices you choose?
There are things that we do that last longer than death.
That don't crumble and don't fade in time.
There are decisions we make that are not for ourselves.
There are mountains that we need to climb.
Light up the way for those in the dark.
Strengthen the weak and forlorn.
This is the reason you walk among men;
The reason for which you were born.
Invest in the lives of the people you love.
For generations yet far to come.
Live such a life that they'll follow your path,
And of your harvest they'll reap the sum.
Build for you must, it's the way of all men;
But hold to these principles fast.
Build the things that matter the most.
Build the things that will last.
My heart
is my alphabet,
beating the letters out
through the pores of my skin.
I gather them
in my hands.
I mold the words.
And they pour down on the sheets,
like eager autumn rain.
© Gry W Christensen
Through the bank account
over painted naivety
it is so intense just to be here
between look and expectation
knowing
I'm just one step from alighting
to be
your personal abyss
afford me completeness
in the same way that
high ranked husband
of well polished wife
pays to a prostitute
by the sadness of creator
using the silk ribbon
you are compressing my foot
(praying that it will stop the growth as the way you'll keep me yours )
I promise that I'll learn:
- to wash my hands in that lemon juice after finishing the portion of high quality
shrimps
- I won't applause in that gap between two arias
- I will pull on that poker face when your hand suddenly leaves mine while we're
standing in the street and you are asking me for an address as you are lost ....
sorry sir I can't help you, I am not from here
with naive faith-
secret is easier to bear in two-
piece of paper
adopted the image of birth
grey tiles
mannerly disinfected
under the glasses misplaced empathy
hand in the pocket of white coat
and naive faith
i guess there is no alternative
when the only thing left as your heritage are nails
i wish it is not the life
and that just a day went wrong
this way
only thing left is a label of
river
down which
no one will ever again dare to
release the paper boats
it would be better
everything
if only
it crossed your mind
to
tide my tubes
Architectural
Beautifulness calculates
Deforestation
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
(My late father was a construction worker.Remember him on Father's Day.)
The construction workers with
Sweating foreheads
Dry throats
Burning skins
Blinding eyes
Struggle to build
An air-conditioned roof
Under the sun
For you and especially for you
While themselves
Working at a place
Without a fan or an air conditioner
But under a burning sun
Hanging from a roof called the sky
The Truth About Pyramid Construction
By Elton Camp
(A poem dedicated to members of the lunatic fringe)
The facts historians are unwilling to admit
Pyramid building with Egypt doesn’t fit
They were dummies who worshiped a cat
How could they possibly know about that
It is unreasonable & going entirely too far
To think they could line them up by a star
And stones that heavy they couldn’t lift
It must be somebody with technical gift
To a sensible person it absolutely seems
That aliens in UFOs used tractor beams
They left evidence for future folks to see
That once before on earth they came to be
Eventually, they will once again do the same
The pyramids show to earth they laid a claim
“Sorry, eartlings, we have bad new to relate.
You are squatters here and must now vacate.”
“Of this planet you haven’t taken good care.
We’re taking over as ours has become bare.”