Bowstring Poems | Examples

Late Winter Surprise

Heart-shaped box of chocolates, late Winter surprise.
See sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

She knows him now, all too well, every inch of him.
This sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

A straight and narrow arrow flew from Cupid’s bowstring.
Struck sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

He had to open them then - cause and effect of love.
This sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

She was unexpected, for his fancy was charming.
Grins sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

On the date set, another sailor came to make claim.
Shocked sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

Oh poor boy…poor, poor sailor boy was a contestant.
Watch sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

Wouldn’t you know it…yes…his heart, branded by a poet.
Her sailor, in a dark uniform, hiding his eyes.

No Where Now

No (where) Now

         I don't want to write about it
         but my pen keeps circling
         hungry near the wounded
         hidden tall grass metaphor of decay 
         any small movement snaps
         the bowstring free
         lies like arrows arc across
         the fallen trees
         iambic missing everything

         the zero that I'm seeing
         moon there just rising
         Sarah's
         looks down full not smiling
         poetry stops when the living get too close
         I've lost my bag of sins
         signed off the last appraisal
         I've nowhere left to be
         silence locks each metered word
         third stanza just for you
         easy to rewrite the first
         not so much the view

                                                  (homage to S.T.)

Stilllife

i pull the bowstring

back to the quivering past

into the future

Things With Strings

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

Each Voice

America’s greatness…
we don’t have to agree

In freedom of dissension,
a strong harmony

Each voice draws a bowstring
whose arrow flies high

Carrying a message
—that liberty buys

(Philadelphia Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

Words That Inspire Me

Words That Inspire Me
By Miracle Man
3/7/2020

Obstacles were not intended to be stop signs,
but encumbrances to induce thought

Character, is displayed by continuance beyond
 where others thought we’d finish

Think of words as arrows;
Once a poison arrow has left its quiver, there remains time,
but once released from the bowstring,
there remains only remorse.

Our legacy will be measured by what we brought to the table,
not in what we carried away.

Don’t let pride hinder help,
A solitary spoke won’t hold up a wheel!
And a lonely life is a kissing cousin
To a fisherman’s empty creel.

The Falcon

I'm sitting still.
Like a statue.
Indifferent to everything around me.
I'm just an element of the scenery.
It’s like I’m not even there.
So come out! There’s no danger! 
Just a couple of steps. A few more.
Yes! Almost there.
I'm sitting.
Tense as a bowstring.
Focused on my mission.
I’m judging the distance.
Soon I’ll be off.
Instantly.
Like a bullet. A stone shot from a sling.
This ain’t shopping at the market.
Clipping coupons or fighting for discounts.
Life is at stake!
My offspring’s and mine.
So I’m still sitting only for
three, two, one,
Now!

Frosty Words

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.

All-Encompassing Love

Much like the force of gravity
Love surrounds you attracting everything to its core,
The more you pull towards you
like a bowstring further it shoots the arrow.



~08/07/18
~"What is Love" contest by Faraz Ajmal

Divine Archer

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

Bow and Arrow

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.

The Archer

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

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

I Fear the Night

I fear the night

I fear the night;
When thoughts of you
Stalk me like a ghostly hunter,
Eager for a taste of my soul.
Armed with Eros’ arrows
They come unheralded, treading
Silently; bowstring taut and
Softly humming in the flow of 
My mind. 
Sleep retreats, respectful of 
Your presence, waiting patiently
To step forward and take my
Soul into her bosom, that 
I may escape into the fantasy
That you care still, and think
Of me as I do of you. Dreams;
Imaginary lives full of hope,
That evaporate with the dawn, 
And the hunter steals away, 
To plan anew the downfall of 
My mind.
The clatter of the day drowns 
Out your presence; except
Brief moments, when the hunter
Stares at me, bow hung loose
At her side, confident I shall
Be waiting at nightfall. Then
I again wait in anticipation
Of your presence in
My mind. And

I fear the night.

Heartsong

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.

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