Best Bowstring Poems
The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.
I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.
And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.
But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,
As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.
And here I am, pouncing at ground before me,
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.
Categories:
bowstring, angst, art, confusion, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
THINGS WITH STRINGS
Spider's web, strings of stars,
a weaver's loom, and old guitars.
Balls of yarn, and DNA,
string bikini, and crochet.
Cats cradle, spools of thread,
Tails on kites, and hairs on head.
Theory in music, or in science,
together making a string alliance.
Yo-yo, and Pinocchio,
harp, violin and cello.
Catgut bow, and strings of cheese,
or whiskers on a prized Siamese.
Silly String, and G-string,
an strings of birds on wing.
Math strings, "No strings attached,"
a roof that's been heather thatched.
String quilts, strings of pearls,
strings that tie to locks of curls.
Music staff, and balls of twine,
and tendrils from a sweet pea vine.
Heart, balloon, and aprons too,
and laced up in a tennis shoe.
Garland, hamstring, and quartet,
strings on fingers to not forget.
Braided rings, and strings of lights,
pulling strings, and fishnet tights.
Telephone string through tin cans,
woven blankets and knit afghans.
Brown paper packages tied up in string,
needle, lanterns, and wind chimes that sing.
Drawstring, bowstring, and baby's pull toy,
string, strung, and stringing, we're all overjoyed.
By Edlynn Nau
© January 25, 2015
Categories:
bowstring, celebration, fun, humor, joy,
Form:
List
You are the star that shines in my eyes,
I am the man that comes in disguise;
Like moths that flutters on wings of chance,
We fly into arms that love to dance.
On the balcony the rose vapor clings,
And the nightingale joyfully sings;
Bringing a light in my heart, a song of desire,
A flame in my soul to light the fire.
The soft embrace with a luscious kiss,
The sighing moments of divine bliss;
The still reflection of luminous eyes,
Where passion flames and apathy dies.
The archer's bowstring triggers a dart,
An arrow to pierce your reckless heart;
Fingers to tumble in your tangled hair,
Arms to hold, a time to share.
The hopes, the fires of lover's dreams,
Flower in the light of soft moonbeams;
The mist of night flows over us till,
The wine of love has sipped its fill
Categories:
bowstring, romancelight, light, love,
Form:
Lyric
Frosty Words
Written: by Tom Wright
4/7/2018
I allot time to past words frosty in flight,
They’re like chains or a promise unbroken.
By vacated words I frequently feel contrite,
But vociferous words cannot be unspoken.
Words are like arrows departed from quiver,
Once released from a bowstring can’t return.
Whatever the intended message, they deliver,
And the recipient cannot your heart discern.
Once frosty words are released on a course,
And settled in on their intended quarry;
Though we seek forgiveness and feel remorse,
These same spent words return to inventory.
Categories:
bowstring, words,
Form:
Lyric
Quietly filling
deep cups of the red blossoms.
The morning sunrise.
The rock bowl is full.
Filled by the rain for the birds
and for my quiet mind.
Dried stalks of rhubarb
turn brittle in the summer.
Born again next year.
The sparrows come back
to say thank you for their home
I lovingly made.
My red dogs eyes gleam.
Before eating, her eyes ask
is it OK Dad?
HAIKU; MEMORIES AND OBSERVATIONS and EXERCISES
Archery
The strong bowstring sings.
My arrow will find its home
I turn to sip tea.
First Love
How reluctantly
the shy, young man moves forward
toward the full, red lips.
First
In the maiden’s bed
He found his heaven and hell.
Such was his first love.
Alone
Small favor to ask.
Please spread my ashes on the sea.
No wife, no roommate.
Who is Buddah
She poured my green tea
Until the cup ran over.
Now, I know Buddah.
Memory
Cousin Roni was loud.
Married a Samoan man.
They both ate roast pig.
Memory
My old friend, Bucky.
Carried a gun in his boot.
Afraid of himself.
Old Friend
Alvin slapped his first wife
and then he married a man.
I don’t know him now.
Exercise I
Diagonally
he crosses the wide, busy street,
to catch up with love.
Exercise II
Vociferously,
she announces her mistrust.
Not Republican.
Exercise III
She knew the problem.
Incompatibility.
He had to learn it.
All his writing was
autobiographical.
He was egocentric.
SEASONS
The autumn raging
I am blinded by red leaves.
Too many to count.
Surf crashes fiercely.
Shadows lessen, skies turn gray.
Winter storm moves near us.
This Spring, my house burned.
I now have a better view
of the blue mountains.
Fresh ink on blue lines
the words come like hungry bees
to form my Haiku.
Synch
Summer. I feel strong.
Equal to birds in the tree,
and pebbles near feet.
Categories:
bowstring, allegory, introspection, life, seasons,
Form:
Haiku
The archers’ line was straddled,
By many a shapely calf.
The Marshall called the nocking,
And winked at the pretty lass.
The Maiden drew the bowstring back,
To her ruddy cheek,
As she fired her fledgling flights;
They heard the fair Maid "Eek!"
Chorus
"Sing Hey Ho, best beware!
Hey Ho have a care,
If ye've any pretty parts,
Ye'll keep them out of there!"
The bowman smiled and nodded,
As the Maiden struck a pose.
"Try again M'Darlin' Dear,
"But watch out for y'er nose!"
The Maiden rubbed her forearm,
And looked back with a glare.
Nocked another arrow shaft,
And hit the bull's-eye square.
Gentles all they tipped their hats.
The Marshall cleared the field.
The Maiden went to fetch her flights.
The men trod close at heel.
Returning with a manly stride,
Yet again, she took her stance.
The bowmen's eyes all glimmered,
With mischief far in advance.
Chorus
Pulling back her bow string,
To her crimson cheek so close,
She let another arrow fly free.
The string hit her in the nose!
Tears welled in the Maiden's eyes.
All the gentlemen rushed the Dear.
Wiping the pretty lassies face,
Of every single tear.
They brushed the few stray auburn locks
From before her green-brown eyes
Handed her the fine longbow,
And heard her sorrowful sighs,
"Do try again M'Dear Mistress,
But for your form we fear,
So, be very, very, careful Maid!
Keep those nipples out of there!"
Chorus
'Twas 'pon the final flurry,
As she drew string back to cheek;
"Thwack" went the taunting bowstring,
And again the Maiden "Eekked!"
Her cheeks they blanched a deathly white,
'Pon her brow there came a frown;
Still, when the Marshall called count;
She gamely shot the round.
"Sing Hey Ho, don't be scared,
Hey Ho just take a care,
'Tis simply a friendly warning
Not to put ye're pretty parts there!"
Categories:
bowstring, son, song-lyric
Form:
Rhyme
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
Categories:
bowstring, wind,
Form:
Sonnet
THE SECOND ARROW
The first arrow, shot in straight degree,
flew the skies, dipped in filigree.
Her quiver held the arrows, three,
and nailed it sharp, to wing of bee.
It stung and burned incessantly!
Her foe cried out but didn't die,
the second arrow climbed the sky.
That failure kills, is what she'll cry,
her grief dug in with mournful sigh.
The archer doesn't question why!
In pain by anger, not by fear,
the second arrow pierces dear.
The first to wound and slightly veer,
the second's death, and drawn to steer.
On death's white face remains the tear.
Control the bowstring try we must,
The second arrow's failure's thrust.
by Edlynn Nau
Categories:
bowstring, feelings, introspection, metaphor, pain,
Form:
Rhyme
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
Categories:
bowstring, adventure, age, animal, body,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Just a single thought, and my heart begins to rhythmically beat
My breath gets caught, and from the start you made me feel so complete.
Such joy like I've never known, for heartache has always hindered me.
This beating beneath my breastbone beats to each stanza in my poetry.
You've awakened a love I never thought existed, and showed me so many things.
Cupids arrow flew, but i missed it, and then I stole his bowstring!
But there is no use fighting anymore, for I've given you the key.
Now you travel my hearts corridor, and you'll forever remain a part of me!!
I want you always in my heart, through every up and down.
We'll ride the storms out with our love, and I'll always be around.
You bring a sweetness to my life that I have never known.
I live to read your poetry, and hear your voice on the phone.
The angels, I know are watching us high in the sky above.
They even whispered in my ear you'd give me all your love.
Because of you I'm happy again, and I never felt so free.
I give you my body, heart, and soul, cos' you are now a part of me.
Note: I wrote 1st stanza, the lovely Deb Wilson wrote 2nd stanza.
Categories:
bowstring, girlfriend-boyfriend, happiness, loveme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
He is restless, stripes blending and then confusing the shadows of the bars of his cage
Not having eaten for three days slow, ribs show, worms beneath the tawny and grey skin
He sometimes stares at me, just for the briefest moment, and then prowls with calm rage
Awaiting his freedom, though short, and he still prowls, a storm within.
The clamour down the tunnel, the odour of the dust and sweat waft around
He stares at me again, and then prowls nearer to the bars, beating heart
Muscles tense, his head moving from side to side, shoulders alternating up and down
Tail twitching, the tip whipping, sinuous snake and body alert, bowstring taut
A slight growl slides from his throat, anticipating what he always knows before me
From the light at the tunnels’ end, a command to loose the animals on hold
Steel doors are rammed open by me and others, the clang always making us freeze
Watching the sprint to the kneeling people in prayer, their hearts at peace, breathing the Word of God.
Categories:
bowstring, animal, christian, faith,
Form:
Epitaph
Heartsong.
Where the physical meets philosophy
In Arcady rare love joined you to me
Fated bowstring of a song has severed
Seeking Lethe, Did thou seer seek to sere?
Shreds of sinews hearts damned ruptured weir.
Where the physical meets philosophy.
Paths of lovers, will-to-power or fated,
Bloated hearts, gloated, fetid then faded,
Fated bowstring of a song hath severed,
Tears in streams, rivulets of dreams, regrets
Sans Nepenthe to slake sorrow, to forget
Where the physical meets philosophy
Wake on surreal shores jaded jealous lovers
Sinews snapped, Mortal hearts cannot whether
Life like the dream hearts bereft forever
Fated bowstring— Our heartsong hath severed.
Categories:
bowstring, lost love,
Form:
Villanelle
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
Categories:
bowstring, courage, dream, father son,
Form:
Sonnet
I take my bow in hand
One arrow from the quiver, too.
The target is one I understand
My arrow is straight and true.
I know the direction and distance,
Yet the distance I'll ignore,
'Cause if I undershoot for instance
What am I shooting for?
So back the bowstring goes
'Til the bow's about to break,
And the speeding arrow shows
The path that I must take.
This path I'll never deviate,
Nor will I ever quit-
Until I find that arrow;
Even though I may not find it.
And should I find that arrow,
My purpose will not end.
By taking in hand my bow,
The arrow is sent again.
Categories:
bowstring, analogy,
Form:
Rhyme
The battle cry of a Samaria pierces the night
"Ninjas meet your death, no matter how you fight me, the Samaria's decree is death before dishonor"
What you think the little sword is for
It's hard to stab myself with a Katuana
You finger Chinese stars
Well I finger a poisonous arrowhead into my bowstring
Your send out your Shadow Spirit
I don't care white ninja or black ninja
Well mighty men meet a Valiant man
And now you meet a violent death
There now buzzards and vultures devour you
This is our culture we only defend our land
We only sent out a hand of help
You slap us in the face, you wont ever do that again
Freeze the moment let us twins remind ourselves
Who knows where the spirit goes it is like the wind
Come here to where we look the storms in the eye
And before we perish bro we might as well sip on some rye
Is there harm if I don't take off my armour
would you be offended if I sais when your indoors
put your sheild to rest
Categories:
bowstring,
Form:
Rhyme