Long Archer Poems
Long Archer Poems. Below are the most popular long Archer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Archer poems by poem length and keyword.
Luminescent water dweller swirling svelte
Slick slid tranquil cuddles chocolate flanks
Languish in lake's fresh flow cleanses pelt
Inveigled green murk give mammal thanks
Flip of fish bodied bristle face fierce scent
Dispersing air bubble clusters break ranks
Astonished by spine kink accomplishment
Ransack gets snack refuel on sandy banks
Sharp fang archer snares mollusc, eloquent
Velvet lips emit wet grass verdant vibe knell
Frolicking gloss body, domain of free agent
Guarantees relief, feasted minuscule morsel
Rotary manuevres engrave prey unhindered
Dagger mouth rolls marble glassy carouse
Rouge show-off swims to coldest dominion
Flagrant tail track flicks a frigid drop douse
11th February
Behemoth of depths
Instant recognition when she turned; her hair was not the same
But the face was exactly what he was expecting. She was exquisite.
Delicate yet strong, a warrior woman with a determined edge.
He figured she was a fantastic archer. She let one fly. Proving him right.
A Celtic princess? He asked his father; his father’s eyes narrowed.
Do not be getting any ideas, he told him. She is a wild one; dangerous.
Intrigued, he attempted to get a bit closer. Her guards stopped him.
What business do you have with the commander? They asked.
Commander? She was the leader of their army; he was thunderstruck.
Things were getting better and better in his imaginative scenario.
The beauty glanced over and gave them a nod, and they let him through.
She had seen this man in her dreams, and she was ready for forever-after,
Mother can you hear my plead,
Just like when I hear your voice.
Is there anything wrong with me,
My sensitivity feels like a curse.
Everything I can intuitively see,
Sometimes it can be a bit much.
Why am I so deep like this,
Why is my big heart so raw.
Your guidance I now seek
Answer me for I am yours
You show up when there’s a need
As I always answer your calls
To sprout should I let this seed
A consciousness to be reborn
Fear is trying to creep in
It knows I find myself alone
Your wisdom is crucial to me
Ensuring that I am never lost
Emotions that can feel so real
Must try my best to stay above
Your presence I know is near
A web that comes from source
Weaving your delicate silk
So I may have a place to walk
Appearing in all of my dreams
We are connected even through blood
Hear me mother will you please
Through me you can see my poems
The senses say that you’re here
So strong is your true love
Comfort me will you please
I really would like a hug.
Raven Archer
It was sunny the day our hearts broke away.
A decade has passed—but some wounds ignore clocks.
The news bloomed like bruises on a nation’s chest.
Shoreham stood still.
Time forgot how to move.
Eleven men.
Men of mornings and small routines.
Lunchboxes. Laughter. Motorbikes.
Some had children. Others were children—still.
And one…
one kept wildflowers on his phone.
Too shy to say, “This made me think of you.”
There’s no symmetry to this grief.
It leans sideways and doesn’t apologise.
It smells like engine oil and funeral flowers.
It hums in the throat of widows and mothers,
grows moss in the cracks of pub tables,
clings to the wings of the plane that didn’t stop.
Somewhere, a bottle of red remains uncorked.
Somewhere, a bike rests against a wall no one will move.
Somewhere, wildflowers still bloom—
and someone remembers
the man who loved flight,
but stayed grounded
for everyone but himself.
Still.
Author’s Note:
For the eleven lives lost on 22 August 2015 at Shoreham:
Dylan Archer, Richard Smith, James Mallinson, Mark Trussler,
Matt Jones, Matthew Grimstone, Jacob Schilt, Daniele Polito,
Tony Brightwell, Mark Reeves, Maurice Abrahams.
You are remembered.
Dear Editor,
I won’t let you stand on my throat—
Stifle my compassion,
Weigh down my shoulders
With a chip — not sweet like chocolate,
But sharp like ice.
Not from the old block,
But cracked from the freeze
You placed in my bones.
You guillotine my fire
And return me only grief.
Dear Editor,
I know your job is important—
But is it louder than the truth
That begs to be heard?
Just because a stanza doesn’t touch you,
Or it ends without rhyme or convention,
Does that make it any less real?
Dear Editor,
Please see the substance beneath the design.
We poets are crucified
For daring to call out—
For letting our voices
Tremble, burn, and bleed.
Dear Editor,
I once wrote about loss
So heavy, it cracked the sky.
A plane fell — and a friend was gone.
And I wrote it raw.
And I sent it whole.
And it came back with silence.
Maybe the timing was wrong,
But the pain was right.
Dear Editor,
I beseech you:
Look into your heart,
And look at the piece.
Admire the craft,
But let truth ring through.
Then maybe more of the unheard,
The undervalued,
And the unpolished
Will shine, too.
All about fall of Bazball and Stokes’s not Foulkes fate
Well what about back slaps for Black Caps chaps mate
Pundits rude culprits pulpits spewed twee oh so Kiwi trait
Mighty minnows again punching well above their weight
Really a campaign even without Kane their all time great
And the penury of an injury spate they were still first rate
Doff our hats to Matt’s vat of stats could hang in the Tate
Darryl no right knight apparel didn’t unravel to bouncer bait
Simply from harder Kiwi larder did Archer Armada frustrate
Nicholls with the don gone did come on and compensate
And the willow wizard Williamson he did commemorate
Way Tom & Conway with aplomb did play did elaborate
Riff of Smith & Glenn dashing or Rachin flashing celebrate
Blundell loving gloving getting a bundle myths liberate
Cruel flak that Zak got for being middle pace cack did irritate
Not in the top pack but joined the attack and did penetrate
Had a crack and got a stack so ace can each hack flagellate
Old school grace beat cool fool as Bazball rule did annihilate
Two of New Zealand’s famous ex pat sons they did eviscerate
Shroud in praise in proud land of long white cloud tributes percolate..
The stars all align as I take another step
Carefully watching what I am about to do next
Feeling a surge rising from deep inside
It’s a strong force that seeks to come outside
A fire mixed within with raw awakening
The lava is rising I am feeling it’s entity
Programs are afraid of what I can grip
They are tiny like sand, what a bloody twist
They all start to run trying to hide
But I see it all and they have zero time
Let my wings grow and their blood start to drip
Gently holding them until I start to squish
Call me evil queen if you really must
Actually bow down to me you tiny worms
Am I evil or good who really cares
Creating from illusion what a fun game
Words mixed with passion that come to pass
Sparks hidden within songs what a playful God
Flowing and swimming through the words
Free from containment what a sweet world.
Raven Archer
This is what should have posted last night. Thank you for your understanding
Erasing every trace
“Star light, star bright,
The first star I see tonight;
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight”
The winter wind is cold
as I stand in the yard
staring up at a
the first star of the evening,
one we shared often
Gazing upon its light, wishing,
certain it shimmers for some,
those holding hands and dreaming
of a future as bright
as these icicle glistened heavens
Now though dimming, fading
with the universe
where possibilities once thrived
as if life were real
and not some fabled archer
When then the ground crumbles,
giving way beneath my feet,
frozen earth opens up,
swallowing me
into a deep abyss
And as the surface falls,
caving in, creating
a darkness like
I have never known before
I whisper, “thank you”
For soon spring will come,
and new grass will grow
over the disturbed land,
erasing every trace,
that I ever was
And I will know
beyond a shadow’s doubt
That my wish upon that first star tonight
was granted…
Good night Soupers
Note: The opening stanza is from the 19th-century English poem by Jane Taylor, "The Star".
Winged Cupid's day
Winged god of love
Love of many kinds
Love passed on in Spanish roses
Roses of red yellow and blue
Roses with prickly thorns
Thorns that sink into broken hearts
Thorns that turn our hearts blue
Blue as the skies above
Blue like the wide deep ocean
Ocean with lilies floating above
Ocean passing on careless whispers
Whispers seem to say I love you
Whispers that wish to be heard above the noise
Noise of silent voices
Noise we would end
End these foolish games
End from breaking so many hearts
Hearts of the shepherds pining for nymphs
Hearts leaping about in the air
Air filled with the sweet smell of exotic spice
Air carrying the salty smell of sea
Sea so undiscovered and mysterious
Sea that leads up to the beach
Beach were the fair lover waits
Beach where I will sail to be with you
You my love fairer than Venus
You my darling more magical than the sunset
Sunset is when I will finally arrive
Sunset blazes a path for the full moonlight
Moonlight fit for a lovers date
Date I always long will come
Date so sacred to her mother February
February the month when love blooms
February when the archer is busy with his bows
Bows of silver and of gold
Bows I hope will be in my favour today
Today not like any other day
Today I hope that you will be mine
Mine to hold cherish and care for
Mine I hope eternally
Eternally bound by the chains of love
Eternally we now are one
Live....
One....
Outline of a figure in the clouds
Evil eagle on right shoulder
Angel archer behind aiming at the evil bird...
When we are unaware, an angel is always there
Following to protect from harm
How many times a day does things not go your way?
If they had happened as you wished,
Doom would have been your fate.
Praise God it is not too late
Praise Him for the Angels unaware!
Once long years ago, our son-in-law
Was late coming to pick up the grandson
We had to go to classes at Mercer in Macon
My husband was just so upset....
We was running about ten minutes late
When we got to a place where there was
An old homeplace with two huge oak trees..
Which were right on the edge of the road
There was a traffic backup and we had to wait.
I am thinking there must have been a wreck
No not a wreck ~~One of those trees had been blown over
It lay across the road where if we had been there maybe ten minutes earlier
Well! You know the rest of the story.....
(Andrea, the first part is what I saw in the clouds)
Works, Compositions,Artist, Musicains and business minded people. Sceince and math of music
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fela Sowande, J.H. Kwabena Nketia, Akin Euba, and contemporary artists like Noura Mint Seymali and Ayub OgadaR. Murray Schafer, Violet Archer, John Weinzweig, and modern, highly recognized names like Howard Shore, David Foster, and Alexina Louie.Leo Brouwer, acclaimed pianist Ernesto Lecuona, and innovators like Amadeo Roldán. Other major composers include Tania León, Alejandro García Caturla, and Juan BlancoHeitor Villa-Lobos, renowned for combining native elements with European techniques, Antônio Carlos Jobim, a founder of Bossa Nova, and classical pioneers like Chiquinha
Composers appear coursey of Albumio Musica
a Crescendo Music Company.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------