Best Contractor Poems
We buried our dog, Ding
With her favorite things,
Like our couch, plus our bed
And pillows for our head.
Our carpet she muddled
With dirt and pee puddles,
The window she stared through
To bark at who knows who.
The hedge she sniffed and chewed,
All of our leather shoes,
My truck’s passenger seat,
But not the children’s feet.
Two of our best chickens
She chased like the dickens,
Seven of my wife’s hats,
But not much more than that.
We paid a contractor
Who with a large tractor,
Dug a humongous hole
For our dear doggy’s soul.
And it did our heart good
Though we now sleep on wood;
Without a comforter,
Since we did comfort her.
My husband is in many ways the opposite of me.
Were he to make a left turn along a route, I’d go right inevitably.
Astrologically, he’s emotional (double water) but I’m a stable triple earth.
He rarely laughs, not even at a comic’s show, while I enjoy mirth.
As time went on, I realized he really was a nut.
Had he been a shoe, he’d be a heavy boot, always kicking butt.
Impatient, tactless, rude and often feeling out of joint,
he handcuffed himself to an official’s chair just to make a point.
A self-made gung-ho contractor within years he became.
But being accident prone, himself he often would maim.
Jack-hammered his own foot, fell two stories off a roof,
nearly removed his thumb with a saw (to give you a little proof).
He yelled a lot, got scammed, got stabbed, and had a nervous breakdown,
but he’s not the type of man to easily go down.
He learned to recognize the damage done to himself and his brother
from being raised and controlled by a narcissistic mother.
Once he got on pills for anxiety and depression,
the second half of our married years saw great lessening of aggression.
He worked a bit as a bounty hunter when building got too slow
and drove trucks long-distance too. Over half the states he’d go.
He aggravates me even now, but he’s much more mellow.
He’s loyal and never could be accused by someone as acting yellow.
Though physically afflicted, we’re both at ease with one another today.
And if he were a shoe, he’d be an old worn slipper - tough boot tucked away.
We await the daily mail delivery with eager anticipation.
Alas, today came another batch of worthless information!
Of course there were the usual bills that arrive without fail,
But where's the check that guy promised would be in the mail?
We've received more return mailing labels than we'll ever use.
How our names got on their mailing lists, I have no clues.
To top it all, a summons for jury duty was today received.
Now that really ruined my day and left me sorely aggrieved!
A startling piece of mail from a realtor wanting to sell the house.
Thinking I had something to do with that really upset my spouse!
A blatant ad from a vinyl siding contractor wanting to make a sell.
Interesting we should receive that since in a brick house we dwell!
Another envelope had alarming news from the local funeral home.
Do they know something we don't know about a trip to the Celestial Dome?
Our life insurance company sent their usual annual birthday greeting,
Breathing a sigh of relief that our hearts are both still beating!
Lord have mercy and deliver us from this onerous perdition!
Curtailing this stuff would certainly improve our disposition.
On the computer I can simply stop such stuff by clicking 'delete'.
Oh, for such a simple system to make junk mail less replete!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Dear trafficker,I am on the run
With face emitting fear
Worn in clothe surged into rag
By the scissors of rape
linen scars
With the screech from angry nails;
narrow escape.
Do not ask why I run
Like a prey dodging the hunters’ gun
from thick darkness I run, in search of sun
I am but a derelict
Worn in tattered smock
As the whirlwind stirs frustration
and my hopes remain forlorn
I would relish the scary street
Here is better than your hell
No more shall your contractor waylay my ardent strife
Fruitless life
Sweat in shambles
Still I boast of no life
I wouldn’t come,
Without the credence from your tongue
You said the pastures are green
and life is but a melodious song
Meanwhile you had it planned all along
To make laborers from our clan
The poorer we are, the richer you become
I am only sixteen,
Devoured by manly mantle
For sordid pleasures
My pride will they rumple
and vowed that I shan’t see the morrow’s dawn
If I dare relinquish the place of a pawn
As heeds the rivers’ wave and tide, the coxswain
So do I heed commands that deepens my pain
I am stocked
Can’t move forward, nor to the back return
I am disheartened
With no hope of a glorious turn
In the street corners I shall lay
Where wanton mosquitoes fly
I lay in the spring of tears
Till heaven hears my cry
Trafficker as I lay with earthly stings
I know you are somewhere
Feeding on chicken wings
I run for a place to lay my head
If it means to bunk on grass in exchange for bed
I would anything, than stay in my mistress’ den
Where I am a meal to many men
Daemon! You orchestrated my fall
You took my harvest and careless if I perish
You said papa will be fine when I work
This is all for papa and you know
Why then is my story so
Tell the kids in Togo's loitering street
and all the troubled ones in Africa
When a man like this beacons
Please resist his soothing tongue
For he is darkness in array of light
As he would cajole, to cast on you a lasting plight
He is a coward,
whose fortune depends on our sweat
and in greed, would he have some souls to-let
Trafficker, don’t from your evil schemes relent
Till justice come, and then you’ll have no chance to repent.
Wasted words of Poetical Incorrectness
Words are precious commodities not traded
as their value is just too high.
Words of falsehood are a waste of words
as in time the truth will always negate the lie.
Like running the water when brushing your teeth
is a waste of precious H 2O.
Words said in abundance when there's no one listening
there is a waste there also.
Words that are used when they don't need to be said
is a squandering of valuable assets.
Like a contractor building a house
that will never be used ,lived in or possessed.
Using valuable words to ones, that are unwilling to hear
is a waste of your breath, your ink and your time
Like Jesus said when talking about his opposers
it's like "throwing pearls to the swine".
Superfluous words are a needless repetition
a use of words that is unnecessary
Repeating the same things just so they can be heard
this is a warning to the unwary.
Words that are spoken to those unable to hear
are words that fall on deaf ears
Words that are written that are never read
are wasted words falling like the poets tears
Using unkind words in a heated rage is a waste of
words as they incinerate the page
Sometime later in a calmer state those words are
regretted and usually replaced
In conclusion, my dear fellow poets who write words
of troubled sorrow and eloquence
Let's not waste our precious time, ink and talent
on those who practice poetical incorrectness.
John Derek Hamilton
February 02,2016
I want change, something new.
Maybe to be able to just close my eyes and drift off with positive thoughts that I would be able to wake up to.
What must I question about myself?
What type of changes to be made?
Am I just a lost soul on a cold path, taking strides walking barefooted on broken pieces of my heart trying to reach the end of something?
It’s a long road. So I just shrug and shake it off and continue my journey with dreams of flying away for a new beginning. New types of songs to sing, then once again I realized I can’t fly with broken wings. Tears followed with laughter. I really hate not being perfect and if perfection comes in time, when can I have it?
If it’s meant to be, will or can I be a Saint?
I’m over thinking this process. Lost hope just doesn’t carry the faith of my dreams. I’m not a dreamer, I attempt to rely on reality based facts. Like the vision in the mirror looking back at me. Same eyes and mouth, the image in the mirror thoughts are the same only in reverse, maybe positive on the other side.
I’m not a dreamer.
Others who dream, sleep.
I’m borrowing time like a bad loan, interest to high and it’s going to take a life time to clear this mess up and my energy is wasted on my guilt to build something that doesn’t exist. My life as a contractor to destroy and rebuild has broken me down also.
Where do I go?
Yes I’m confused. Searched for answers within myself and still have feelings of being lost.
So it’s another Sleepless night staring at the ceiling with these thoughts, and there are still just thoughts without answers.
Yes, I have been privileged to be a Good Samaritan, but I prefer to share about other Good Samaritans. Most friends and acquaintances that I have known have been and are 'Good Samaritans'. I take great delight in speaking of four of them who attended the wounds of others as well as my own.
I was a wounded worrier for having lost the house keys of a business client. I was more than a bit consoled after describing the awful day I had before the keys were recovered. He made my day when he said to me, "That Day Is Gone". I shall call him Mr. Forget It who became my Good Samaritan.
I was wounded in confidence until one Sunday morning in the church lobby a young teenager asked me if I was still hanging in there. His question gave birth to a response that shifted the confidence of my entire being and certainly changed something deep inside of me. I replied to him, "No, I'm not hanging in there; I have got the bull by the horns, and he's going down". I shall call that inspiring teenager Mr. Hang In There who also was my Good Samaritan.
We had secured a contractor to perform some work on our home. At the time, we were frustrated, disappointed, and barely recovering from a world wide economic collapse. We had a price agreement for the repairs; and when the contractor finished, I handed him the check. He refused the check by saying, "I don't want this check; I don't need this check. At that point I was overwhelmed, because he had donated all his services, both parts and labor. I shall call him Mr. Surprise, who became my Good Samaritan.
The transmission on our vehicle had gone its last mile. We were deeply worried about the heavy cost of parts and labor that such a repair would require. The repair man was referred by a friend. When he arrived to assess the situation, the first words from his mouth were, "God told me not to charge you". I shall call him Mr. No Charge, my Good Samaritan.
11142017 PS Contest, The Good Samaritan, Craig Hawkins
My friend Ed was eighty two last I knew,
and had a construction crew.
He was a great guy
and his worldly crew treated him poorly,
Which affected me sorely.
He was an honest roofing and siding sub contractor
who worked with his crew, a positive factor.
Even tempered, humble, hard working and wise,
he labored and ignored the cracks of his guys.
Never complained or answered their slurs,
just kept working and paying those ungrateful curs.
He was writing me up another estimate one day,
When he suddenly looked up at me to say…
“Bob, do you want to know how I get along with all men?”
I said “Absolutely Ed! Tell me your secret if you can..”
He said,
“It’s simple really; I just accept people the way they are.”
It’s been fourteen years since I heard those words,
And thought that over .. as he walked back to his car...
So you wanna know my secret of my wardrobe success
It is all in my shopping habits I must confess
Why spend a fortune to look like a million bucks
I catch the bargains, I guess it's all in the luck
I am the only one in style as you can plainly see
Don't you wish you could dress like me
From hospital scrubs to camouflage capris
Just admit it, you are jealous of me
I notice so many of the females have no fashion sense
Look at my closet, so many clothes, I need a table of contents
I will soon open my fashion hot line
Just call 1-800-so-fine
Now a contractor will expand the closet for more wardrobe capacity
Don't you wish you could dress like me
Joan Rivers is now requesting I join the Red Carpet Fashion Police
She wants to bring me in instead of her niece
I tell sorry, there are so many women screaming for my help here
One example is Zena, her taste in fashion isn't too clear
I just won a Pulitzers prize for my book titled Queen, the Fashion Authority
With a little self discipline, you have a slim chance, if none, to be able to dress
like me
Freelance contractor
I’ve been a ghost for centuries.
Qualified by experience.
No diplomas or degrees
but plenty of self confidence.
Although I died quite suddenly.
Beheading does not take too long
I just accepted readily
the choice of sides I made was wrong.
I lived my life as best I could
like other men I made mistakes.
And did not do the things I should
One wrong decision all it takes.
Although a failure as a man.
I am a most successful ghost
I do the very best I can
Although I am not one to boast.
I take a pride in what I do
I can appear and disappear
(I’m one of the accomplished few)
to fill a humans heart with fear.
I’ve haunted stately homes with pride
I’ve walked abroad without my head
Through solid walls I quickly glide
I am enjoying being dead.
Alive I earned but small respect
in fact nobody noticed me.
But now in my ghostly aspect.
I’m treated most respectfully.
Some day I know I must move on
but I can feel no urgency.
Although my dearest friends have gone.
A ghost is all I want to be.
I’ve been a ghost for centuries.
I find it suits me very well.
I do exactly as I please
The skills I have I freely sell.
26-Oct-07
There’s a cabin in the mountains
The deer are everywhere
You might see a coyote
Or perhaps a big black bear
Close to where two rivers join
No game fish can be found
Until the sockeye salmon run
Is on the breeding ground
Long before a cabin was built
We parked a trailer there
Camping on the weekends
In clear pure mountain air
Then a truck hauled in the logs
A contractor built the shell
To complete all the rest of it
The family worked like hell
Our daughters and their husbands
All gave a helping hand
The toilet was the first thing done
For reasons you understand
The insulation, the electrical
The cabinets on the wall
Without any outside help
We had to do it all
We did cave in and hire someone
The wallboard to install
But we hung up the ceiling fan
And no one took a fall
Install the sinks, install a tub
Apply finish here and there
With Electrical heaters in the wall
We were almost there
When we had the linoleum laid
And the carpet on the floor
Time for all to celebrate
No need to work no more
This all happened years ago
It was completed in’91
Now thinking back on it
That work was mostly fun
Before the living room wall came crashing down.
I sat in the living room as a child and frowned.
Reading in the dark and studying in the dark,
Hearing my dad say “turn on the light in there.”
Flickers the switch on and now I can see!
Wondering why I wear glasses; now I know.
Leaning against the wall and doing handstands.
Stretching firmly against the wall, a Yogi.
The living room was a playground for us kids.
Our pet parakeets flew, grasping with their claws,
Sinking their sharp beaks and chipping at the wall.
Before the living wall room wall came crashing down
My dad said, “I would have been a great carpenter.”
He sure was right like a right-handed person.
Boom! Now, the living room wall crashes downwards
Crumbling down in one direction it goes.
Dust everywhere and on everyone, like flour
My dad was a builder, and a contractor he was
My mother, sister, and I surprised, we stand.
The wall once stood, dust particles in its place
“What have you done? “, we ask and he reassures.
“I told you I would have been a carpenter,
No wall constricting us, and we all have more space”.
The Practical Joker
By Elton Camp
Joe, by a paving contractor, was employed
Practical jokes were what he most enjoyed
When an extra pair of boots he spied
Another of his inane tricks he tried
With paving he covered the tops well
And then with panic Joe began to yell
“Somebody help!” is what he cried
“It looks like a workman has died!”
“His poor body I have just located.
With paving he’s been suffocated!”
The foreman ran from the construction shack
At the horrible sight he was taken aback
He suddenly said, “I don’t feel very well.”
Clutching his chest, to his knees he fell
This was the last practical joke Joe tried
Due to his stupidity, the foreman died
Proverbs 26: 18, 19 – “As a mad man who casteth firebrands, arrows and death,
So is the man that deceiveth his neighbour, and saith, Am not I in sport?”
I didn’t see Alhaji Sule, the big contractor
Though he is a sponsor with a huge stake in government.
I didn’t see Chief Ade the financial banker
Though he is well-versed on political palavers.
I didn’t see Mazi Eze the business mogul
He’s engrossed in his profits of sales and remains apolitical.
I didn’t see Sir Osahon the civil servant
I wonder, but guess he knows he’ll always have his pay.
I’ve hardly seen his Excellency, not any of his children
But I can see all his servants and some of his relatives.
I see market women, okada riders, menial labourers
Poor farmers, job seekers and beggars, superintend by
Ad-hoc staffs, police, army, party agents, observers
Thugs, cultists, pickpockets and party chiefs, all…
All under the biting sun from sunrise to sunset.
From the tussling crowd I hear and see unending
Wails of distress, curses, cracking of limbs and crimson
Muffled by fugacious shouts of political victories
When from behind the curtain five dollars less swaps for a vote.
Stale politicians and their eating party chiefs preside over
The poverty, ignorance and despair of the masses who shall
Again be left in the cyclic vortexes of socio-economic woes.
In the coming years, they’ll, in public, keep licking their wounds
While the politicians, in private, will have and eat their cakes!
God, the master craftsman,
Set out to build this world.
At the end of each workday
He’d hang up his tool belt,
Clean up the job-site,
Stand back and say to Himself,
“It looks good”.
The end of the project was at hand.
God said, “that was a hard week’s work.
I think I’ll rest for a while,
And turn things over to humanity,
For maintenance.”
If I were selecting a contractor
To renovate my house,
I’d expect better references than
“He does good work”,
And I’d expect him to have completed
More than one job.
God didn’t give us a perfect world
On purpose.
He left us room to perfect the design,
To add trim and wallpaper,
Modernize the appliances,
And add rooms as our families grow.
We start with a firm foundation,
True walls, and a tight roof.
It’s up to us now,
To maintain the plumbing,
(The water pure and flowing).
Replace the A/C filters,
(The air free of contamination).
Keep the refrigerator stocked
(So no one need starve).
And work to finish the job
“Perfectly”.