Best Archer Poems
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.
“Laws of the land enslave our people”
-Robin Hood
Sunlight glances off the flint tip
As justice swims through the air
The belly of the bow stave
Carved in yew
Whose nock, twined in hemp
Bonded in beeswax
Burns with the passion of man
Forged in the forest
Practiced on the buckle
Freedom flies true
Freedom
Flies true
01/28/12
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!
The Sun and the Moon are twin flames.
One from the other is Never far away.
Always 11 seconds, 11 minutes, 11 hours,
11 days, and 11 months apart, nothing can stop
the chasing of each other's hearts.
The Sun loved the Moon so much, that
it lightened up its day and gave to its love,
12 hours to shine her beauty into the darkness
as the stars like her sparkled unto her likeness.
Though forever chasing and feeling like
they're never to be caught, just for a
moment's glimpse of each other,
daybreak slowly parts.
One cannot be complete without the other
together - though apart,
their love is still true and each day, a new start.
There is no loneliness or despair for within lyes,
Forever Love and Forever Care, Love Never dies.
Across the horizon in the 11 seconds left,
I love you will be spoken, and through an eyes glance,
they'll leave nothing unsaid.
Someday when the Sun and Moon collide,
The King and his Archer will forever be
side by side; nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
A match made in Heaven that has withstood the test of time,
through all the ages, a kiss longed for, that love would bind.
The Sun King, the Groom, the Moon Archer, his eternal, spiritual Bride.
The story of Twin Flame Lovers is so powerfully aligned.
A Bright flame so bold, that every 24 hours, the story is retold.
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.
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
Wasn't Robin Hood born with noble blood,
what made him betray royalty?
He had a grudge against Prince John!
As a bodyguard, he was loyal
to King Richard, but despised
the greedy and unfair Sheriff.
According to English folklore:
he was an outlaw, a skilled archer,
he became a legend in his own town.
I doubt if any Englishman of the era,
would remember him as their own
if he hadn't been the selfless one,
taking everything from the filthy rich,
who daily engaged in a-eat-drink-binge,
he gave all back to the starving poor.
Had he not taken their side and avenged,
the peasants would have felt anger
and fought against him and his King.
Now, see Robin Hood in a different light:
lacking humor, grit and self-confidence,
not feeling compassion for the lowly
who cultivated farms and provided swine,
bread and wine for those royal tables.
He could have threatened them with vile words,
" Give me all your grains, vegetables and fruits;
your fowls, your chickens and pigs for my banquet! "
Load them on my wagon, don't hesitate and refuse:
my arrows don't miss targets, save your lives! "
And with intimidation they would appease him.
But Mariam would rise from her grave protesting,
" My husband isn't a villain as you describe him,
he saved my king and my father and tried to save me
from Guy of Gisbournue! Hail to him who revenged
many injustices in favor of the ones who trembled
at clanking swords! Hail to him who reunited England! "
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
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.
Your arcing body
Drawn, quivering like a bow
I am, the archer
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
Tension on fingers, drawn to face,
Eyes ahead, judging time and space.
A life in the balance, measured and weighed,
A breath no longer, will be taken this day.
Smooth release, as fingers relax,
Shaft accelerates, flash in time, looking back.
Heart of antiquity, a soul of eternal light,
Air through feathers, guided by ancestral sight.
One single shot, in this senseless time,
Remembered connections, awaken and we find.
That which once was, will always be,
The flight of an arrow, released and free.
(Stoic)
x
x
x x
x x
~~~~ x x
&~~~~~~~ x x
The archer x x
(stood very x xx
still by the x xx
oceans x xx
edge His target was a buoy, tossed far ==================>
from his ledge Aiming high against the sky he xx
let his arrow go Ele- xx
ments unforgiving x xx
bounced the buoy x xx
to and fro The x x
archer through x x
experience had ad- x x
justed aim In account x x
the wind and waves x
he aspired to tame Al- x
though the arrow mis-
sed its 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!
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
Deep in the forest
Outlaws lie in wait
For well off noblemen
Their monies to take
They steal from the rich
And share with the poor
How long can they hide
In their forest so pure
This band of commoners
Go against the grain
The Sheriff of Nottingham
To have them slain
The followers who follow
These outlaws so bold
To introduce them
Your about to be told
There's Little Joan
A girl so large
She bowls men over
With the strength of her charge
Then there's Touch
The Miller's daughter
Who keeps doing things
She shouldn't off aught to
Willena Scarlet
Demanded clothing and a horse
If this never happened
Her language became coarse
Not forgetting
Nena the nun
Whose amazing beauty
Made the enemy run
And the last of the gang
Butler Bill
Whose amazing weaponry
Made this leader shrill
You've met her gang
Now meet their leader
She's Robyn Hood
An out and out heart bleeder
Dressed in black leathers
Low cut front
Cleavage guys die for
Which makes them grunt
It's not the poem
You thought it was
But why the change
Och, just because
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour.php