a good handyman is a rare find
whatever he charges, you had better not mind
finding a man who can remodel and fix
gives you a phone number you’d best keep in the mix
it is incredibly difficult to find a good handyman
many think they are, but do not know what they are doing
If you find one worth the pay, they are usually older
seventy years old and up
this might not be your experience, but it is ours
and we have employed a lot of handymen
more than forty I imagine
most of them “age out”
it is tough to lose them
some we say good-bye to in the hospital
after they have had a heart attack or stroke
or if they fall off a roof
it is tough falling off a roof when you are eighty-two
[The Candyman]
Who can take a hairball?
Blame it on the cat
Flush it down the tank
And you laugh a lot for that
It’s the handyman
Yes, it's the handyman
The handyman can
‘Cause you pay him for the laugh
When the laugh is on you
Yes, the laugh is on you
‘Cause he took you for a fool
And he’s not done yet
(No, he’s not done yet!)
The handyman makes
Everything he breaks
Work again for just a minute
It’s your money-did he win it
Only when you hear him spin it
Now you got a problem
Who you gonna call?
Your handyman is gone
‘Til the late, late fall
But he’s your handyman
Yes, he's your handyman
And your handyman can
If you bought the monthly plan
And your boa gets loose
When your boa gets loose
Then your cat disappears
And the hairballs stop
(So the skids run dry)
Now, you can laugh again
Yes, you can laugh again
Give the man a hug
For a slime-free rug
'Cause he's your handyman.
Andy the Handyman
Andy was cleverly skilled at his art
he built mechanical things part by part
Andy worked all the time couldn’t stop it
but the wife would blast off like a rocket.
He couldn’t understand the dramatics
when he built a carriage in the garage
The wife said it was a bloomin’ disgrace
she didn’t want it taking up the space.
His carriage was left there to rot and rust
the poor thing never even got a dust
Andy thought he’d have to leave it to trust
that someone, somewhere may think it a must.
Andy’s wife left long before the carriage
said she’d had just enough of the marriage
Was Andy pleased, did he really care
she had just answered his secret prayer.
The wife never gave him a moment’s peace
was always getting under Andy’s feet
Now Andy enjoys life living his dream
constructing a super flying machine.
2nd September 2021
A dull-looking scuffed up ebony toolbox full of pure happiness,
Sat in the back of Charley’s old green Chevy pick-up truck,
Waiting for him to drink his three cups of coffee.
“Another adventure!” the wrench said to the clamps.
The tools knew that Charley would be using them today for sure.
He had thrown a tarp, some paint cans, and his can of nails in last night.
They were eager to get started, happy to see what they would be building.
“Here he comes!” the hammer said. “Silence!” There was instant compliance.
The tools shook with exuberance, feeling today’s adventure.
Would they be building a window seat, porch, deck? Someone’s park bench?
“SHHHH!” the pliers cautioned them. “He is getting in!”
Charley had no idea they were aware he was lifting souls
One project at a time. A simple carpenter, with a good soul…
The spiral staircase made her high heels sing.
The handyman had heard raw music ring -
clickety clack, clickety, clickety clack!
Musing how the heads of woodpeckers spring,
right on, he bounded up the steps to check
and found her with a noose about her neck
ready to jump. Quickly he pulled her back
wondering what he could do to save this wreck.
From here, the City churches, pierced the mist;
shocked, he saw and caught the knife upon her wrist.
His calming voice, “Hold on, dear one, backtrack;
face to face with God, why this final tryst?”
Back down the stairs, they found a place of prayer;
as fate would have it, a priest was standing there.
Taking the vile blade, still open to attack,
he closed it, and, now smiling, crossed the square.
written May 26, 2018
contest: One nine and sixteen upgrade version by Viv Wigley
Oh you broken infinity; gray in nature.
Allow me to repair you.
I am a handyman of words,
breaking down this soft-spoken language in rhythmic remedy,
yet only for you, my good neighbor.
You are the everlasting universe,
but let's not stumble over words.
The universe is infinite; yet not quite infinity,
and the great field of stars must be jealous,
for infinity, you are here on Earth.
And now I am a handyman of kisses;
easing what is broken in your essence,
yet the complexion of infinity
is all the bad or good that completes itself,
and maybe that's exactly why the universe
isn't quite adequate enough for that word.
So perhaps I should spare my lips and release you into space
where you may become one with the stars.
I am now but a broken handy man of muted words,
signing written verse with paper kisses.
When we first met
you said
all you wanted
was a lover and best friend...
Instead I became
your personal handyman
seemingly to repair
your past leaky ceiling relationships...
Maybe to super glue
the many pieces
of your broken heart back together
or oil your squeaky insecurities...
I spent much time
tightening nuts and bolts
in your suspicious mind
seeing they were loose...
But as of now
I'm hanging up
my hammer and tool pouch
no longer your handyman
I'm putting in
my two weeks notice...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
my name sam
and i am
good to be around
i clean house up and down
i don't just stare
i do care
and play fair
makes repair
put me in your dailey plan
am a
HANDYMAN
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