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The Flight of An Arrow

Dawn broke
The eastern pink sky
Drew across the stars
As they faded and lost to the night

 

I called the eagle
To guide me
Piercing whistle
That I learnt as a boy
Running wild and free

 

I walked in the company of men
High above, eagles flew
The wraiths are coming from the otherworld too
Carrying the angst and pain
That has no place and name
Here at Heartstone

 

The screeching and wailing
Increased hideously
The tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree

 

I stood, with the company of men
My bow ready
Arrows drawn
Arm, steady

 

I have trained to defend
Truth and love
Nobility
Chivalry

 

The wraiths gathered
The screeching and wailings
Piercing through
To our souls
We are ready
To fight to the end
To defend
All that is true

 

The flight of an arrow
Unleashed
Steadied by the eagles’ feather
Of brown and gold
It flew
Straight and true
In to the non existent heart
Of a wraith bitter and cold
It was this I slew

 

A bundle of rags fell
For it is not the metal tip
That killed
It was the feather of a Heartstone Eagle
Truth be told
That slew
A wraith, bitter and cold

 

The wraiths flew
From behind the mountain
The   screeching and wailing
Tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree

 

They came in their hundreds
To fall
For, truth and love
From a feather
Of a mighty eagle above
Slew the hearts
Bitter and cold
Brown and gold glow
Flashing by
The flight of an arrow
The archers
Standing tall

 

The gleam of brown and gold
That flew
Deep in to the cold bitter hearts
Of stories now told
Of men of the longbow

 

 

I reached
I pulled 
Many arrows to fly
Of a star
Of a longbow
Aquila am I

 

The longbow of dark wood
Felt my strength
As I clasped its’ bronze inlaid feathers
And reached
And pulled
Arrows of brown and gold
Deep into wraiths
Its’ purpose understood

 
The sky turned black
With eagles that twisted and turned
Of wraiths, slain
Felled by the longbow
Down they fell
In to their own stinking hell
The brown and gold aglow

 

Darkness falling
The fires lit so bright
In a company of men
That celebrated under starlight

 

Remember….
This day well
When the archers
Masters of the longbow
Sent the wraiths back
To their stinking hell
Of Aquila
Who slew
More than most
The flight of an arrow
That holds true

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 5/19/2009 8:02:00 PM
Wonderful tale. It is stories like this that men spoke around camp fires handed down through the ages that produced the lore of old. Nicely written.
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Date: 4/27/2009 4:53:00 PM
Much to think about in this poem. The interesting imagery carries your thoughts. Keep on writing! Karen
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Date: 4/26/2009 1:17:00 PM
Very beautiful.
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Date: 4/11/2009 5:45:00 PM
Lovely ballad Matthew, great use of imagery...Raul
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Date: 4/5/2009 4:31:00 PM
Interesting telling of a tale. How does it feel to pull the bow? How did the archer feel? scared, exalted, fever pitched? what did the air smell like? where is the Hell of a wraith? what does the hell of a wraith look like? How were they dressed? How did they look? Long hair short hair, bearskins? tousers? Did they also carry swords?
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Date: 4/4/2009 3:13:00 PM
This was an amazing write. Very descriptive and a story well told. A great write. God Bless Phyl
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Date: 4/4/2009 11:36:00 AM
hey Matthew ... love this writing! the title and then the start really drew my attention! ~ Arany
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