Vests Poems | Examples

A LUXURY I WISH

In my comfy corner, a little space

A place of my own, as soft as a lace

Lays a long chair of queen’s height with a wooden base

With a rocking style for a ride at a mild pace

Cushions of vibrant colours, in fitting size in the pattern of a maze

Attracting all in less time, fixing attention and nothing to daze

Lovely longing starts to occupy the space with an urge to win the race

Hands over the chair and lying fit in the seat bring glow to my face

The breeze from a window behind calls for a chat and nature’s gaze

Focusing straight from the chair the books in long &short rows pull me towards their case

Genres, size, colour, and bound all arranged in a symmetric vase

Picking up a book of my choice, reading with the flow to travel places

With characters in between with coffee and cookies and varied tastes

Of food and drinks with a due time to nap with the book in the vests

Dreaming of writing one day a grand book of characters all I LOVE

Is a LUXURY I WISH to come true one fine day.

Riverside Summer Outing

My family joined a summer outing
So excited for swimming and rafting
Mom got our swim vests with suits
Dad just brought his parachutes
And kept eyes on us, flying and shouting.

Unintended Innuendo

We spoke in semaphore of smirks,
A dialect of sideways quirks—
Our mouths full up with mirage and pun,
Unconscious artists come undone.

She, a flower in a field of noise,
Parsed our pose as preening boys—
Not cruel, but tuned to frequencies
That echo long through apologies.

Our verbs wore vests too tight with charm,
Syntax stitched with latent harm.
We hadn’t meant to start a war—
Yet metaphors, once launched, implore.

Intent becomes the alibi
Of those who never learned to pry
Beneath the comfort of a jest—
A laugh can undress all the rest.

She read our pause, our sideways glance,
Not as a walk, but a strange dance
In which the lead was vague, and yet
Each footstep left a silhouette.

memories of the seventies

red hot lava lamp
shaggedy raggedy rug
peace sign plump flower

bell bottom hip huggers
fake fur vests and free love
open hearts, open ideas

nineteen seventy
volkswagon buses and Viet Nam
such a contradiction

memories of my youth

we wore fringed vests, the love beads
the long hair, the hair bands, the granny glasses
the flowing clothes, the bell bottoms
a fantastic time, the memories of my youth

Warm-Up

Construction has been going on
Right by my river walk,
Where workers dig and man machines
As seagulls swoop and squawk.

This morning, though, I came upon
An unexpected sight,
Unusual enough to fill me
With a strange delight.

For, clad in hard hats and in vests
Of safety neon-green,
Construction workers exercised,
A gym-class-like routine.

There must have been two dozen men,
The foreman in the lead,
All striking poses, looking 
Pretty good, I must concede.

I watched them for a minute,
Then they broke to start their day,
Their early morning workout
Like a macho man ballet.

A Line of Kids

I often see a line of kids
With vests of neon green
Go walking down the street; it is
A charming urban scene.

They’re anywhere from two to four,
Connected by a rope,
So no one up and wanders off;
At least that is the hope.

A grown-up walks in front and back
And stops to deal with tears,
But mostly, it’s a happy group,
Or that’s how it appears.

I’m sure they get to run around
As those in preschool should,
Though, being city kids, they also
Stroll the neighborhood.

The Theft of Moral Defense

Dawn crests the peaks of barren refuse, enthralling masses and demanding rations of passion from muck

Stuck into walls, hanging out halfway, suspended by calls of anguish and hate

-

Little does it matter for our pain and thoughts 
Little does it falter in it’s saintly rot
And little does it rain down pleasure atop rocks

-

Towering pulses in cavernous chests booming altering noises of gloomy doom and distress
decompression
decompress

-

Such success in sessions of secessions thought best bring messy manipulations of emotions and stress

Blessedly pressing the rest into vests of blasting intent and the buying of souls not spent

The buying of souls not spent

The theft of moral defense 

The theft of moral defense

They Walk Amongst Us

Sullen Sally sat softly..
Sofa cushions.velvet,soft and lofty.

Pondering, world’s great thinkers.
Some friends in her past, were heavy drinkers.

She’d observe them with a smirk
Each,assuredly,a god,not a jerk.

They’d argue that their god was best.
Such arrogant angels, in sweater vests!


                     9/25/2023

Valentines

Vests in reds that breed
All good in hearts that feed
Laces in reds that exceed
Embraces in hearts that speed
No cold hearts decreed
That all broken hearts should bleed
In time all hearts will cede
Never on thorns or spikes that seed
Ever will true and loving hearts shall weed
Soft or hard, hearts will concede

Karachi

Lyra the manufacturer of high quality Body Armour Bullet proof vests and jackets,heavy duty leather Footwear,military and safety and Personal Protection Equipment & Clothing.Military Boots,Bulletproof Jackets,Flyer Coveralls,Bomb Disposal Suit,Lower Body Protection System,Bomb Suppression Blanket,Bomb Containment Bag,Industrial Clothing and Safety Shoes whereas Streit Group offers urivalled range of armored vehicles.From armored personnel carriers, luxury sedans and SUVs to armored commercial vehicles and cash-in-transit trucks.Note.Karachi is the industrial hub of Pakistan..
Lesson.Carbon Fiber and Titanium are good bullet resistant Materials..

Dystopia Dysphoria

Made In America
Is a fable
By foreign companies
For
Gullible patrons
Who love
To call themselves
Patriots

Today a key
To unlock the apartment
Tomorrow
It will be
Your debit card
And
A credit score
Will float over your head

Kids go to school
Not in the latest fashion
Nor
Do they wear uniforms
No
School kids
Today they wear
Bullet-proof vests

No healthcare for all
But war! 
War for all ages!
Step up!
One and all!
Except for the rich!
Only the poor
Get to die!

On television
That's not a NASCAR race!
It's congress
But look
Look at their sponsors
Big pharma!
And oil companies!
Writing your laws!

Dystopia dysphoria
It never
Seemed real
Until
We made it real!
And Idiocracy
is a documentary
Of America's downfall!

A Tribute To Cherilyn Sarkisian

Wearing matching wooly vests
looking like two hippies 
singing 
“I Got You Babe”
an iconic song at best
she out did all the rest

That’s Cher !

Sitting on a horse
lamenting 
of course
about being
“A Half-Breed”

That’s Cher !

A woman way before her time
she ran around with 
“Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves”
all the men
laid their money down
when Cher came to town

Only woman in the world
who gets away 
with strutting her stuff
in her underwear
I doubt she wanted 
“To Turn Back Time”

She is greater 
than she ever was
If you don’t think so
“Snap Out Of It”

Traitors' Insurrection

This wasn’t any lawful, peaceful protest, 
Nor a rational expression of free speech.
It was one nation under siege by misguided, 
Manipulated puppets under 45’s direction.

Every MAGA hat-wearing oath keeper proud boy,
All those angry white thugs in tactical vests,
And every other rat domestic terrorist  
Committed treason, clear at first inspection.

There’s no excusing violence and vandalism.
No patriotic warrant to condone.
To attack the institution of the US Constitution,
It was nothing less than traitors’ insurrection.

My Childhood Church

Our church was old, brown, a block from downtown.
We could walk to Piper’s Candies from it, but Pipers was closed.
It was Sunday, in the fifties; everyone closed for church.

The people who came here were mostly women with kids.
Very few men, just single guys who wanted to get a woman.
I felt like most of these dudes were in their hundreds.

Men wore suits; women wore dresses. Girls were frilly.
Boys had on suits or vests, unless it was during Bible School.
Our shoes were polished, every Sunday. It was the law.

The same old women out-sang us from the choir loft every Sunday.
I did my best to out sing them, but they always won.
Our Sunday school teachers took it seriously.

We were there because there was no getting out of it.
Most of us were with Moms.  Our fathers were doing other things.
The minister was about three hundred years old; I liked him though.
He always winked at me when I tried to out-sing the choir ladies.

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