Long Close to the vest Poems

Long Close to the vest Poems. Below are the most popular long Close to the vest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Close to the vest poems by poem length and keyword.


Let Go

Can anyone please tell me
Or try to make me see
Just how to move on 
To help myself get along
And to put aside
These feelings I harbor so deeply inside
God knows how hard on my own I've tried
But it never stops, never goes away
In my mind those emotions will not stray
There I am again standing on the edge
My feet keep on teetering on that ledge
But yet I haven't yet fell
It's my own personal hell
I stand there because I can't so much as move
I know there's so much to you to prove
I don't move side to side
Because in the shadows I don't want to in them hide
 I don't dare jump down
Even though my world is crashing all around
So I stand there screaming to you so loud
Yet you still don't hear my sounds
At this point all I can do is pray yet again to the heavens above
And believing that someday soon I will be the one
For with whom has your love
I try to not lose sight however of just how far I've come
And keeping that faith in who it is I love
Wearing that love for you close to the vest and on my sleeve
Wanting so bad to hold you and from you to never again have to leave
But for now I will continue to go on with the pain
And how it sometimes causes from my eyes rain
And how all my memories take up far too much of my time
And the fears and doubts that can fill up too much of my mind
But I know that you I just can't leave behind
I don't believe that love is blind
It's funny how we as people in our mind
Go back to our past to find
Just how we should or shouldn't be who we are in our present
And to receive the power to change our future
I never want to be someone you resent
But you are someone I can't just forget
You are so deeply in my soul
And these feelings I am not able to control
I'm not sure if I will ever be able to let you go


Remain the Same

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

Premium Member Skeet

'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



.....................................................................................................
Form: Rhyme

After The Fall

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.
Form: Rhyme

Come Out and Play


Nobody really knows me I am way to close to the vest
It's a vested interest of sorts, one that keeps me safe
I am a Liar, I'm a Cheater, definitely not a Believer
I am the quiet one in the corner that sparks curiosity
I am the patient one that's always observing, I remember
I remember everything, yes I mean every single thing
It's a gift, it's a curse, it's rather useful to say the least
In the mirror I see the real me, the monster behind green eyes
Always with torture on his mind, not what he wishes to give
What he wishes was never given to him, it was his death
Now the Walking Dead, lost all hope, belief, feelings deceased
Now the rest of humanity suffers from his broken mentality
He feels absolutely nothing, because to him nothing is real
So he lives on unhappily because one thing he does is remember
He remembers how it felt to laugh, love, to hope, and believe
He remembers that everything in life use to mean something
And that meaning turned out to be nothing, The truth he knows
And this truth did not set him free This Walking Dead Human Being
All relationships now are void of emotion, void of love, empty
So this is what shaped me into the man I am today, unfortunately
Because the beast that saved me inside wants to come out and play...




Written for Poetry Contest "The Raw Madness That Makes Me Who I Am"
          Hosted by: Anoucheka Gangabisson  Form: Any
                                        09/23/2024


       WON 1ST PLACE IN THE ABOVE POETRY CONTEST


Lovely Symphony

You're like music to my ears
a combination of
notes on pages in my
book of life
A symphony so nice & beautiful 
even the angels sing your
tune as there's 
an aire about you that
gives us both air
beneath our wings
My heart sings when I think of
the two of us together 
as you're an expert at pulling
on its strings
We are each others instrument
the way we play 
& act as if we don't know how
to say what we feel
This is me being real with myself
as well as you
& knowing you read my heartfelt 
music makes me want to
say what's true
Our love is beautiful in a way
that stands out
head & shoulders above
the rest even if we keep
those feelings 
close to the vest 
I digress as I'm being spun
backward into memories 
of our beautiful symphony 
that can only be described with
the most descriptive words
In other words the sheet of music
we share is incomparable 
& I wouldn't even try to compare 
Rather I seek to spare myself 
the torture of having
to further replay our records 
though they are classics
I don't need glasses to see what
we mean to each other
but at times it's rather
translucent 
so there's space to get lost 
inside loves confusion 
I'll take that hit every time though
& endure the contusions
because sometimes love does hurt
even if we're under the
influence of the drug of
illusion

Per Paparazzi

Watching & waiting while in hiding
and faking
Views for the taking but unaware
what is waiting
Freezing & shaking but is it fear or
its weather?
Snapshots for the taking posing for 
them cuz it's clever

Good best & better to shy away
from the faking
Shade is made by the sun but it's
above what it's making
Shaking what has been rooted
leaving behind hollow winds
Seeds will grow from your efforts
toward the sky lose or win

Unoriginal in sin as we have seen
this before
Jumping the broom of timelines
looking for knobs on the door
Turning in bed with a snore as if
you've slept through the test
Sleepy & lost in a dream snoozing
on good better best

Picture a snap at its best frozen
in moments of time
Painting a picture in jest with a
stoic face like a mime
Mimicking raps like a mime with
painted face like a canvas
The dry humor so wet that only
fish understand it

Above thee underhanded so keep
the slightest of hand
Close to the vest like a secret 
ducking birds on their Stan
Peacock with a colorful stance
with truth outshining the lies
Your essence shines like the sun
& this is what is despised
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Have Opinionated Friends

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.

Premium Member non-mechanical

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

Premium Member Plane in the Sand

Take a plane ungrateful one
to a distant land...
don't forget to walk the straightest paths
freedom bogs down quickly in shifting sand.
You may have to cover your body from head to toe
you may get a lash for dancing with your Beu
you may not be able to go for a walk alone.
You may be married off to a stranger
your worth measured in skinny cattle
You may lose a hand for stealing manna
Walk the straightest of paths ungrateful one
keep your faith close to the vest
or you'll spend years in prison 
or even lose your head.
 If they find out you're gay
it may be your last day earthly day

When you come back ungrateful one
will your vision still be opaque and narrow
as when you left
will you still burn- loot- rape - obstruct
will you still spit on freedom paid for in blood
will your privileged and entitled attitude shift
like the shifting sand just experienced.
will you still sashay the path of truth distortion
blinded by that selfish lens - so very opaque
Take a one-way plane ungrateful one
I don't think you'll ever change.

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