The Archer Robin Hood
The
archer
Robin Hood
from Nottingham
Shire aligns himself
perpendicularly
to the target whilst notching
the drawn arrow from the quiver,
and draws the longbow’s bowstring to the
anchor point, aims, and then lets loose the shaft.
That flies through the air, hitting the bull’s-eye
to the cheers and jeers of foresters
in the English countryside, where
they have challenged him to an
archery contest, but
folly beguiles them,
rendering him
the outlaw,
Robin
Hood.
***
The bow of
God’s wrath
is restrung in
the dark
To target
injustice
and hate
as its mark
Each arrow
His judgment
of life
in the main
And striking
dead center
He frees us
— again
(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)
He was later identified as Fletcher,
Still very bad on a stretcher:
Arrow wounds from an archer,
Who had taken him for a lecher:
Sure, for years, carrying on with his wife
And earlier threatened with a knife
With candid advice to reassess his life…
Only this morning The Archer for an arrow,
So that survival would be narrow;
For Fletcher he wouldn’t mind bombs wielding,
For a lecher, every building quaking…
A Dying Fletcher in a hospital
And in his condition his attacker saw little!
You see them, yet you do not,
Their power lies in their plot,
Deceivers hidden in plain view,
To undermine and cheat you.
Their stunning rise to power,
Owed to their "trap and devour".
Amazing unfaithfulness,
To the Lord of righteousness!
With bows of dishonesty,
They devise a strategy.
With arrows of lying tongue,
The deceivers' trap is sprung.
Training themselves to tell lies,
Disguising themselves as allies,
Designing their trap to surprise,
Their victims suffer demise.
"Fires of affliction await!
They cannot resist My bait!
They are always telling lies!
So, My deadly arrow flies!
They don't listen to My voice.
I'm left with only one choice.
Being unable to repent,
I spring My trap of judgment!
I am hidden in plain sight.
I see in both dark and light.
You think you can deceive Me?
The Ambush Archer is Me!"
Angela the archer was a romantic, who shot cupid arrows.
Her family thought she was out hunting quail or duck.
She was matching up love matches in the land of Farrows.
The couples would stay together if she had the most luck.
Angela was given opportunity by Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love.
She would say, don’t match this young lady up with any old dope.
This sage entity watched the activity from her throne room above.
Angela always let the arrows fly, along with buckets of hope.
What timid lamb discerns I am trustworthy, drawing near?
What deer could hear my message clear, "There's no need for alarm"?
What rabbit out of habit doesn't dash in mortal fear?
What sigh could signify to butterfly, "My heart is warm"?
What squirrel won't twirl and run when my one goal is to endear?
What word, if heard by hummingbird conveys, "I mean no harm?"
How do you spell the word to tell the woman you've dreamed of;
that word of balm to soothe and calm the fears she dares not show?
How would you try to say you'd die for her, whom you most love?
How to persuade your doubt-filled maid, when still these ill winds blow
into her mind? Grieving, you find your unrequited dove
still sees in you an archer, who could wield a deadly bow.
CAMELOT DOG ARCHER--
OH!
well alas my canine friend;
Sir Barkelot has intervene;
Pawed archer framed arrows;
Sees his mark colors day light;
Senses the bones of Sir Barkington
1/24/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
There once was an Archer, divine
He created a love as zealous as yours and mine
Hewn from a strong and sturdy branch He fashioned a bow
From dust He created a bowstring as supple as a piece of dough
This Archer set out with bow and arrow in hand
He desired to set love’s fire to the land
With the strength of the bow, the flaming arrow sent forth
With the docility of the string, it's projectile was birthed
Neither the bow nor the string took claim
To the arrow's path, success, or shame
For they both knew, the two made one,
That, in the Archer, the victory had been won
Therefore they neither fret nor frown
And through this they have won the martyr’s crown
Resting in their Master’s hands
They had hope in their unknown plans
The archer stood very still by the oceans edge
His target was a buoy, tossed far from his ledge
Aiming high against the sky he let his arrow go
Elements unforgiving bounced the buoy to and fro
The archer through experience had adjusted aim
In account the wind and waves he aspired to tame
Although the arrow missed it's mark, it was quite close
Few could call that chosen path that he would diagnose
In life the ones who love you, can help form a plan
About the wind and waves, and where you might land
What you might encounter I don't pretend to know
But with a plan you just might land where you want to go!
SONNET IN THE WIND
(The Archer)
Hark! What wind doth blow in yonder forest
Stirring the spirit of a long dead archer
In his endless search for the unwary doe
He stealthily lifts his bow – aiming hurriedly
His shot misses – his prey flees – frightened
Alas! He trudges onward – eyes peering intently
A huge buck with antlers like a tree
Suddenly looms on the horizon
He sniffs – testing the wind for signs
Is danger lurking near
The twang of the bowstring alerts his keen senses
He pivots swiftly – his white tail flashing
He bounds away – snorting contemptuously
The archer – stirred by the wind – is seeking still
God, in His infinite wisdom gave animals instinct
Given also to man, but man fails to embrace it
My Little Archer
I am not cupid with wings to snare
I stood to trust with my dominant eye
My arrow’s end reaped a feather from lair
Grasped the bowstring, appeared ready to vie
Released my strength and listened to my breath
As force was pulling it down to the ground
That challenged distance and danced to death
Arrows braved the wind and fled being drowned
My creed will not fail in hitting the mark
Object remained aloof from where I stood
Aimed the high and enjoyed the morning lark
Dreaming one day to hit like Robin Hood
Whispered the bullseye to catch my arrow
Or hang my quiver and try tomorrow
April 24, 2017
SONNET IN THE WIND
(The Archer)
Hark! What wind doth blow in yonder forest
Stirring the spirit of a long dead archer
In his endless search for the unwary doe
He stealthily lifts his bow – aiming hurriedly
His shot misses – his prey flees – frightened
Alas! He trudges onward – eyes peering intently
A huge buck with antlers like a tree
Suddenly looms on the horizon
He sniffs – testing the wind for signs
Is danger lurking near
The twang of the bowstring alerts his keen senses
He pivots swiftly – his white tail flashing
He bounds away – snorting contemptuously
The archer – stirred by the wind – is seeking still
Man is a bow
With its two extremities:
His double nature,
And one cord:
His understanding,
On the one extremity
Enthroned we find,
Good, love and hope,
On the other,
Evil, hate, and fear,
But he is the same bow,
The same man,
When the extremities
For superiority strive,
And his soul a battlefield
Of emotions becomes,
The bow: the man,
Full of activity turns to be,
And sends forward
Arrows of words,
Arrows of actions,
Striving to find always,
The target of improvement,
The target of perfection!
The better the balance of the extremities
By the cord is,
The better instrument man gets to be
The further his arrows fly
The more accurate they become
And wiser his soul grows!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
Your arcing body
Drawn, quivering like a bow
I am, the archer
If you were an Archer,
And had but one choise out of two.
With a string of fresh arrows, and a heart of gold.
What would you do?
If you had to chose between what was right, and your own survival,
What would you do?
If you could either save many people were being throw into a massive pitfall,
Or only you.
To many, the choose would be made.
Of course they would save others.
But what if the price for their freedom was your life layed.
Is that really what you would do?
Or would you save yourself,
As most people would do.
Not caring about others,
Even if they were someone you knew.
Me, I am faced with this decision.
Sin or Saint?
Tough choise with no true winners.
So who would I send to their fait?
No one...... I'll fight for both.
I am an Archer, with a heart of gold.
Who has taken an oath.
Fight for what's right, no matter what the cost.
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