Long Contractor Poems
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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
We drove in two separate cars a few miles along the ocean shore
I am not afraid, life has been depressing, I just don’t care anymore
We turn down a pebbled driveway, with lion statues guarding the gate
I am shocked when I see us approaching an old Victorian mansion estate
Frank gets out of his car, his blue eyes bright and with a smile on his face
He tells me he just inherited this mansion and is busy renovating the place
He takes my hand as he leads me up the granite steps and into the foyer
He tells me he has a case in town, and has also been working as a lawyer
We walk through a marbled living room and into a nautical themed den
He tells me he has lived here since May as he inherited the mansion then
He then tells me that he has known about me and is distant cousin of my ex
I start to let my guard down, even though I am not sure what will happen next
He looks into my eyes and smiles, takes my hands and gently kisses me
I enjoy his kisses and let him embrace me closer, not feeling afraid only free
He leads me upstairs to his master bedroom with a view of crashing waves
I am so amazed and elated, but I need to slow down and not give in and cave
He takes my hand and leads me out through the French doors to the balcony
We sit in antique wrought iron chairs while sipping wine, just like a fantasy
I suddenly start to feel very sleepy, woozy and faint, not sure what is going on
He then carries me to his large bed, lays me down and the curtains are drawn
I wake up the next morning, realizing I am naked under the covers in his bed
Trying to remember last night, as I start to worry with some feelings of dread
Relieved, I hear Frank coming up the stairs as I start to relax and calm down
But instead an older woman walks in and stops and stares at me with a frown
I am shocked, I ask her who she is and if Frank is here somewhere downstairs?
She tells me she’s the owner, Frank was a contractor hired to do some repairs
She’s been scammed, the job’s not done and Frank's gone with all his tools
I feel a tear run down my face, as I realize I was played and now a gullible fool
11/2/19 The last and 4th part of The Distant Shores Series
Anything You Want Contest
Judged and NA'd on 11/2/19
Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
I build it,
Brick by crooked brick
Hands stained in chaotic dust
Particles of my own reckless creation
Every choice, a hammer blow
Every thought, a shifting beam
I lay the foundation, without plan
The pulse of impulse
Guiding me toward ruin
My chaos rises tall
A monument to my undoing
Each flaw etched into the walls
The whisper of doubts I ignored
The scaffold sways side to side
Sways under the weight of my excuses
Yes still I climb, higher and higher
Adding layers of cluttered consequences
Adding to a tower bound to fall
It would be quite easier,
Would it not to blame the storm
To call myself the desperate victim
Of all of life's unrelenting winds
But I see the truth in the mirror
For I am the architect
I am the creator and destroyer
Carving labyrinths from the sand
Wondering when they will crumble
Still, I can not stop
My hands itch for the chaos
For the thrill of building something
Something I can not control
Maybe the fear of stillness drives me
Maybe it's the ache of my soul
Craving motion, even if it spirals
I do not know, I only know
I am both prisoner and warden
Turning keys in locks I crafted
Living in a cell that I built
Living on the very edge of life and death
And enjoying it...
A cornerstone he touted marvalong at his new aquistion. The large stones and medium to large stone would be expensive for pursue and transport. Yet he wanted them. On the high end of the ravine was an area, there it was flat the rocks and stones could be cemented to create the wall for a hillish type structure.Wooden and aluminum beams for frames. With a dry stacked detailed entry, with glass and wooden planks. A structure to marvel for those of our and future thymes. "Which mercies the stresses of creation might the designer be blessed" quoted the structural engineer.Yet affordments provided the limits to this project. Budget minded queries were often met with conversations that made these adventurous folk seem that someone had leaked there wondering, and an atmosphere of exploitation
could have them at the whilm of the contractor. The halfway through scenerio where the only one who has the parts is his grandpa in another country. Him doing us the favor to cost us double the amount. Project Savioring in the backwoods drew the attention of all worldly kinds, leading folk to all ends of exploitation.
From:
The Ballad of Pussy type Men"
By: Contrukious Buildia
"Cement in the clay mixture
Cuts the cost"
Quote by the Exploiter
Which duratrates in the contractors
Favor.
High above the ocean
Below being a sandy white beach
Easy to watch
One can sit all day and observe
The beach goers, Swimmers and Surfers
The ocean view stretchers for miles
One can reflect back in time
The simple and plan life
No riches in thought of Robin Leech
The Lonely house had fancies
A house with a roof and a place to sleep and eat
Just the fruits of one’s labor
Ocean to house
This lonely house had nothing before it was brought
It looked like shack filled with nothing
Once a dweller brought, it was given new life
Renovated having everything in what a house deserves
A place to be proud of and everlasting living
It took patience and of course the right contractor
Specifications were right and all the construction equipment needed
A lonely medium house because a much bigger house
Where one can admire and enjoy for life
Solid foundation
A dream through reality
No longer a lonely house
House friendly with no mouse
A house back then
Showing what solid as a rock can be
Calm breezes and relaxed souls
The aroma of sugar and spice
What could be so nice.
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.
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!
Are you one of those people that sees the things that I see?
A cheap laugh for no reason, pathetic point scoring constantly.
Are you someone who ‘does’ or someone who ‘does not’? Why is it that the ones who seem to do nothing always rise to the top?
The ‘work life balance’ and all other corporate lies! The people with no life who just work through the day and the night.
The volunteers who work harder and harder and longer for no pay! I get paid by the hour and when my times done I walk away.
I broke away to be a contractor so I could just get the job done. Leave the egos to their meetings and their bull humdrum.
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
He was standing with his dart gun
Trying so hard not to weep
Waiting for this pesky human
To please please just go to sleep
Their big job was due to start
So very very soon
The millennially scheduled
Makeover of the moon
The universal architect had decided
Humans couldn’t stand the shock
Of seeing floating scaffolding
Space ships and orbiting dock
The decision had been taken
To tranquillise the planet’s air
But somehow when it happened
This one bloke wasn’t there
He’d been scuba diving
In the Manchester ship canal
As a result of a bet
With his oldest pal
The expert had been brought in
And finally caught him in the rump
And there good heavens at last
Did he detect that body slump
The planet was finally dormant
Every single being asleep
Work could get started,
A tight schedule to keep.
A dreamless dreamless period
Satellite renovation was underway
Thanks to his skilled intervention
They’d only lost a single day
When the planet started up again
The contractor fleet wouldn’t be near
And the natives wouldn’t have any idea
They’d been sleeping over a year
Only lover’s with enhanced perceptions
Brought about by that state of love
Would realise how much brighter
Was the moon in the sky above