Best Close To The Vest Poems
Waterloo Clerihew 23-Skidoo
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery
Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest
Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
I have opinionated friends.
Bonita will not wear a mask unless it is Halloween.
It violates her constitutional rights.
What about other people’s rights? I ask her.
She scoffs.
I have opinionated friends.
Shirley says all news that goes against her president is fake news.
Her president is her new god.
She has never been more fervent.
What if it is all a bit of real? I ask her.
She laughs.
I have opinionated friends.
Rita will not go outside because she is afraid of the Democrats.
Elise will not venture out because she is afraid of the Republicans.
What if they are just people too? I ask.
They both smirk and make fun of me
Behind my back.
I have opinionated friends.
Dorothy hates the liberals.
They are all the same.
They have the same mind set.
The same brain.
I like Dorothy, so I do not tell her I am a liberal.
I have opinionated friends.
Linda will not vote for a woman.
Ever.
For any office.
Women are dumb.
Says a lot about Linda.
I have opinionated friends.
I love them all.
Get along well with them too,
Keeping my opinions close to the vest.
So we can all get along and retain our friendship.
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
The first words openly spoken
Mama,is the soup hot yet ?
said as I
Sat on her hip
Mrs.Cotten
The visiting nurse
No longer
Could she quip
She'll talk when
She has something to say
Make her ask for
The things that she wants
A sibling referred to as
Little mama
taking her comments
As taunts
What they didn't see
As I looked on this world
With eyes that
had just turned three
That I stayed up
Often into the night
Quietly
Conversing with me
Holding my cards so
Close to the vest
No longer could willing
put to the test
The diligent love
Little mama ,
had unfailingly ,
tenderly expressed
With an arm wound
Securely about her neck
I decided,there and then
What the heck
As my sister called out
to Big Mama
these words I'll never regret
As I echoed them back into her ear.....Mama is the soup hot yet?
The love I have
for my sister
has always gone
Well and above
My sole experience
till my own
Children came
Of unadulterated love
The Purity Wheat Domain
There on the sandy ground a mountain grew
Near the motionless skeleton deserts shore
An empty basin’s brain of dirt and grains
Exploded out exposing the great dome
Raised a monolithic surreal thing
Never before seen
A birth from hell to here
Burst forth with forces of its own
With fertile soil
In truth, too few can know or fathom
A conundrum sprung from sand
The purity wheat domain with plants came up
From atoms or magic
No one knows
From something or nothing known to man
Remains a mystery
It came with water in a storm
Or some other form or fashion
Upon a force of plate tectonics
Or from some other source
Not yet determined
Such Inconsistencies found in nature
Come few and far between
We keep our water grounded
Our minds as well are wet
We keep our land close to the vest
What else to guess
This is much more than we can handle
Less understand
We’re happy for more land to farm
And climb
The Purity Wheat Domain stands high
All we can do is sigh
March days in Ohio
sometimes a lion, sometimes a lamb
They often trade places, whenever they can.
Today: Hi 50's-open blue sky with napping winds.
the Sun makes all the difference.
Sweatshirt, jeans, shades dress the day. I sit in a
splendid, sunny, but humbling, silence knowing all
Earth is alive. Given her weathered wisdom, she
slowly begins to don her fresh Spring wardrobe. In this
realm there is no discrimination--all colors embraced,
one for all, all for one. All creatures in place with babes in tow-
links in a perfectly balanced, unbridled chain of harmonic grace.
Forecasters folly their lofty predictions, keeping them close to the vest,
while Rooten-Tooten rodents use shadow play tactics in their furry jest,
attempting to upstage and win the prized, fake meteorological test.
So Ditch your Dopplers, models and such, for we all know--
"Mother knows best"!
(the actual date was 3-23-2023.)
I oft find myself reliving my youth
uncovering uncomfortable truths
about all of my foibles and most of my sins
O, Lord! What condition my poor soul is in...
Whether daydreams or nightmares
each one gives me a scare
I'd played life so close to the vest
~ What might have been if I'd headed west
'Mosquito Pete' (or 'Skeet') for short
A seasoned guy, the strangest sort
It was the only name we ever knew
His story known by very few
A weathered old maverick on a country lane
A bit peculiar, not at all ashamed
He never said much, or went anywhere
Kept close to the vest, with a certain air
We are the neighbors who lived down the road
We heard many stories, he liked to reload
He knew what the sun was intending to do
Why the gray clouds curled, why the sky was blue
He would talk of Nebraska, hogs and grain
But mostly about crops, the frost, or rain
Standing alone, on a sun-drenched day
Out in the field, he would call to the Jay
He'd look to sky, horizon in his gaze
transfixed for an hour, as if in a daze
There were hints of a past, within seasoned eyes
and we wondered if somewhere, he had known other skies
But lightly, as the blossoms cling, the years swung around
Tapping on his shoulders, until his songs were sung
A maverick barely known, for many a year
...but today, his stories have all ended here
We see an empty farmhouse, and with a sad disbelief...
Surprised, and unexpected,..immense in our grief
For the story that begun over eighty-plus years ago
there is much,... too much, that we will never know
Who was Skeet...the man that had no name?
Does he have a proper name? something different to exclaim?
Engraved upon a stone..........what could his name be?
Now, "Skeet" will have to do.....for all eternity.......
___________________
For the contest sponsored by Mystic Rose
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Children On Leashes
Children on leashes go for a walk
As they cut the lines with their minds
They jump from captivity
Running away from their crimes
Thinking about animal life...
Dogs come to mind without leashes
Biting off faces they find
But children are dangerous sometimes
So rope keeps them safely in line
Parents wave good-bye to the young ones
Hanging from their ropes with hope
Think of it as a lease on life
Taken by the portals of time
Children grow into new leashes
Provided by bosses that cry
“I have too much invested in you and your friend.”
“So I must keep you both close at hand”
“As you might guess, Mr. Y and Mr. X,
Very short leashes work best
Should keep you close to the vest”
“Economizing and company come first in this land”
“So kiss your freedom good-bye”
“And try this one on for size”
Children on leashes go for a walk
What they find is a job with more line
Harder to cut and works just fine
I'm in love you so deeply that words could never quite entirely express
You can sense it from the pit of my soul
On through this heart of mine which beats inside my chest
And so I allow you to keep my heart and control
Even if I'm still standing here without you and left feeling hard-pressed
Emotionally I just can't turn and push this down and let you go
But in everything with you, I have no regrets
And in all I feel for you I have shown
I've done my best
Put my heart out there
But for now seemed to have failed the test
My soul was absolutely bared
Your memory is kept so close to the vest
In your life, so much want to in it share
I want to wake by your side in the mornings light
Looking in your eyes, without words knowing how much we care
And be the one in your loving arms cuddling deep in the night
I want to be there when you arrive home from work all worn out
Be the person who makes it all right
I need all this and more, I know this without a doubt
So when, with her, you're done with this plight
And remember what exactly true love is about
I'll still be here, right here, waiting still for you
Showing you how much love can and does run deep
I'm not great at saying the right words, nor am I good at the things I should do
And even though you hate it, sometimes from my eyes, my tears do still need to seep
But in everything I'm still and always will be in love with you
What we had and still have together was never strained, out of our way, and far from being
strange
If one would see us together, to them seeing it would be plain
No matter how our surroundings all around may change
My being in love with you will, in fact, remain the same
Criticism can cut close to the bone,
An area where sensitivity hides;
Make it rather close to the vest,
so squabble won't start from both sides.
Attitude in a cautious or
Reserved manner is pleasing;
Instead of insulting words,
one must use the art of evaluating.
Negative notice can bring
Elation to the ears and heart;
Sour sentence can be sweet,
so success won't fall apart.
Sincere statement deserves attention,
Offensive one makes heart as cold as ice;
Unbearable lines are deafening
as they are also sore to the eyes.
They are too bad to be accepted,
Harsh words as they are;
Wreaking havoc to one's senses,
leaving him with a big wound and scar.
Extremely spoken or written words
Cut completely the connection;
Too intense and cruel expression
makes it close to the bone.
Nestlings
I write best
Close to the vest
I attest
It’s what I know
Best
In my nest
It’s what I
Behest
I write best
Close to the vest
Be my guest
I’ll unload
My chest
Be just like
An inner inquest
I write best
Close to the vest
Just sit tight
I’ll feed ya
The rest
Bill MacEachern
03/24/23
Hesitation persists
Glazed over hurts, trying to push on
Turn a new page
Eyes open to possibilities uncharted
Waters unsure
But one thing remains
LOVE!
Let it shine through
Radiating in all directions for all to see
Still holding close to the vest
Scared to let go and fully embrace possible hurt
But I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all
Come back to me
Sooner than later
Love like long walks and cups of tea
Meant to be enjoyed and cherished at a languid summer pace
Idyllic moments still cross my mind
Then dissipate into thin, curly q’ wisps
Like honey, long since dried…leaving its residual terrain to be traversed
Finding grooves long since forgotten, dormant and cool to the touch
Oh how to ignite the once scorching hot flame
Dancing chemical foreplay lights up the waning darkness
Luminescent glow forges ahead
Breaking visual boundaries
Knocking down silent barriers along the way
All crystallized in the interplay between my cones and rods
The riddle of perspective rages on…
In the sameness of a day.
Reaching to far can lose your way.
In one blink of the future lost.
You learn the devastating cost.
You pick yourself up off the floor.
Not knowing what is now in store.
The give and take has come to roost.
The devils game has now been loosed.
The shades of dreams begin to change.
And yet somehow joyfully strange.
The avenue's have become narrow.
As hope seems lost deep in the marrow.
You do your best to meet the test.
As you play your cards close to the vest.
Not knowing what the dealer dealt.
And not quite sure just what you felt.
Sometimes it's not easily clear.
Of what I say and what you hear.
There's reasons why things stay obscure.
While waiting if there is a cure.
You count your blessings like never before.
While also knowing you can't keep score.
In the game of life it's how you play.
With no account if you go or stay.
Eight months ago I had the ladder go out from under me on the basement stairs and I had an awful fall. In pursuing doctoring, I had labs that came back with a high psa level of over 100. Anything over 4 is time to check things out. I was referred to urology and had a prostate biopsy that indicated stage 4 metastatic prostate cancer which had gotten into the bone and a little bit in the lymph system. I have done 6 chemo treatments and am presently in a 3 month recovery period before my next labs and oncology consult. I just wanted to give some insight to the verses in this poem. Cancer is not something I like to tell people I have, but felt it would bring some viable sense to the poem.
A slate soil though rocky grows grapes with more flavor,
Though few of earth's farmers might guess this is true,
The ground of man's planting can burnish his fate,
(Though men born on a rock field won't always relate).
What's planted on tilled ground, disaster can savor,
Won't need to put roots down, thinks luck is its due!
Good defense does help though where weeds are related
Though some are in general tougher to kill,
To fertilize seed in its hole in the ground
Gives crop jump start in life and results are profound,
An extra expense, but this trick gets weeds shaded,
To starve them of sunlight takes planning and skill!
Adversity helps us to see past the limits
Of current experience, truth’s not just ours,
And sometimes a friend’s soft suggestion is best!
Are our lives that ill-served when played close to the vest?
Let the wisest among us pay heed to the climates
That nourish all souls and help bless our home fires!
Brian Johnston
18th of October 2018