.5. A Builders Lot Poem by David Threadgold

.5. A Builders Lot

Rating: 4.3


Your basic builder
Belt and braces
Big black boots
With thick black laces

All in denim
They bend down
A flash of flesh
Old ladies frown

A concrete mixer
Orange turning
Scraps of timber
Bonfire burning

Stacks of bricks
Some are breeze
All smoke fags
They all wheeze

Days half gone
They ask for sub
Now all the builders
Fill the pub


© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Vidyadhar Durgekar 11 October 2008

Good work with words Interesting to read

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Shimon Weinroth 10 October 2008

you are too gracious too often they are a motley lot, theyre not wholely to blame exploited, by their managers and real estate contrivers short changing cutting corners you get a by product not worthy of a mason or journey man artisans have disappeared, cheers Shimon

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Linda Winchell 08 October 2008

Great Poem! If you need anymore bricks I have got some in one of my poems, 'Bricks in my wagon.' 10!

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