Long Bowman Poems
Long Bowman Poems. Below are the most popular long Bowman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bowman poems by poem length and keyword.
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!"
I remember a young man of long ago,
I as fond of him as he the bow.
We thrived together, discovering astride,
grew into our own side by side.
I came for the archery, and stayed
for the friends - oh, the parts we played.
We shot, spoke, studied and strummed;
on my heart's strings the experience thrummed.
This companion's name intrigued sans surcease,
'til he told how Eirenikos means peace.
Greek it was, and Greek it was to me,
for anger ever flows within me with glee.
In spite of that, we teamed well, made a fine pair,
learned how to wear blade, bow and banter proud and fair.
Every event we could make it to cemented thus more;
there, I felt unfettered - normally, always at war.
Now here I sit, trying to keep his lessons in mind,
while to Dante's lands, for a spell, myself I've signed.
Amidst this strife, I long for those halcyon days,
to return to Eirenikos's eponymously equable ways.
Two sides of the same coin, were this bowman and I,
his name the chronic reminder - a better man is ever nigh.
In his world, myself I chose to engross;
striving to speak with the voice of Eirenikos.
"Thus Spoke Zarathustra"
proclaims the Dawn of Man &
The Monolith
From the ancient past
to the (retro)futuristic present
as the flying bone
becomes a satellite in orbit
Blue Danube waltz
serenades space:
the Pan Am space plane
gracefully docks with
the space station
Ligeti’s haunting polyphony
envelopes space:
Floyd visits
The Monolith on the
immaculately stark moon
Beautifully tragic
Khachaturian ballet suite
announces the Discovery’s
lonely mission to Jupiter
Bowman methodically unplugs
the homicidal HAL
as the psychopathic e-brain
sadly sings “Daisy, daisy…”
He enters the wormhole
in the Monolith orbiting Jupiter
travels through infinity
at FTL velocity
transfixed by the epic
irreal journey
And then finds himself in a
luxury hotel room
somewhere in the universe:
dying on a bed
he sees the Monolith
and is transformed
into a Star-Child
who floats toward Earth
What will the Star-Child
do?
your labored breathing
called out to me
and in my soul I knew
what needed to be done
I reached for the drum
to summon the spirits
called out to ancestors
and anyone who’d listen
gently tapping to the rhythm
of our beating hearts
united as one in a prayer
released to the universe
filled the silence of
your labored breathing
drumming for hours
till the pleading was done
everything had been said
the prayer consummated
left in the hands
of the universe to respond
then it did in no uncertain terms
in an exorcism of sorts
draining the passages
to free your breathing
and so it was
in tune with the universe
the healing power
of the drum
Read on air by invitation ~ February 11, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
Read on KPBX called Poetry Moment by Kara Bowman 2022 [karabowman.com and griefpoetry.com]
AP: 2nd place 2026, 2nd place 2022, 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on June 13, 2025 for contest YOUR BEST AUDIO POEM sponsored by TOM WOODY - RANKED 2ND
and on May 28, 2021 for contest ALL YOURS (MAY 29) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
I still remember Mr. Bowman
who taught me in one of his classes
I don’t remember anything else
but remember the kindness he showed me
Do you have someone like that
in your past?
Someone that stood out to you after
all these years?
The face of an angel, right?
That is what God to you
Come in the purest form
straighten you when you need straightened
taught you what needs to be taught
something that you would never forget
Be like God to someone
That maybe the call you may answer to
Without knowing
The world is full of people like that
Angels
Who goes about doing things, living out
Their lives
But wouldn’t they know it
in some particular moment
they have touched someone
You who do good
Don’t be weary of doing good
Isn’t that what the Bible said?
Galatians 6:9
What other things that people do
that touched you?
Only you know it
But in all those instances
You will find out that all
have the imprints of God
We don’t remember just anything
Just the ones that affect us
Whether in a good or bad way
Be in the good, will ya?
I truly don’t want to remember you in that way
You know what I mean?
The bowmen stepped up to the line
with a twinkle in his eye;
he knocked a feathered arrow,
and set a single shaft to fly.
The paper gnomes in pendulous sleeves
about painted maidens lurked;
the bowman knocked his arrow and,
aimed for the gnome silly shirt.
A puny gnome of paper fell,
pierced through his pendulous part.
the maiden squealed in mortal fear
as the bold archer missed her heart.
The bowman launched a final flurry,
of the finely feather shafts;
and many, many, portly gnomes,
were felled, with arrows in their sashes.
And, so the field of battle cleared,
of fearsome foe that sunny day,
with every ignoble gnome,
set to rotting in the rye hay.
The moral here is quite plain,
for all whose joy seems sparse;
the fool who insults an archer
will find an arrow in his ****.
Crossing the Swamp
The enemy within, if unchallenged,
Will destroy the nation to achieve power.
Singing and composing to deceive the innocent,
Spinning narratives to suit their agenda.
For them, the country is a tool to use
To satisfy their selfish interests.
They hate Jesus, Christians, and Jews
And curse the United States of America.
Boldly, the bowman poles away the ‘gators,
While the helmsman rudders straight and true.
Brave Trump, “Commander in Chief,” leads the troops,
Crossing the swamp to root out traitors.
By beacon’s light in murky waters’ blight,
Proudly displayed, “Old Glory” waves
As a nation prays for freedom from evil’s grip
And for the killing of unborn babies to stop.
I
Dear Alex Shade,
Why are you so down?
The day is new,
So smile. Do not frown.
Dear Alex Shade,
Where have you got to?
Your bed is pale,
Your orders are due.
Dear Alex Shade,
Have you seen the hail?
Your coat is here
On the clothing nail.
Dear Alex Shade,
What have you to fear?
I have moved home.
I might lose a tear.
II
Dear Jack Bowman,
I yearn through one way glass.
If luck tips you might know you are being watched.
I gave you my heart to cradle,
You flick your hand, scoff at my nose
And spit. Spit. Spit. Spit. Spit.
Oh spit once more and risk running out.
Save some for the next fly, I suggest.
It might be bigger.
I have left home to live in a house.
I am clean. Tell me you ache.
Please.
-AS