She is robed in beauty
Singing of the dawn
Shades and hues
Of innocence and color
Make her glow
Like new found love
Sparkling like dew
She has captivated my heart
And captured my eyes
But not my spirit
Even she is not enough
To quell my dark desire
Pity and mercy
Have left my primal soul
I am born to ****
Purpose supplants passion
Gaze becomes focus
As I set to destroy her
Her death to come
In one moment
Frozen in my heart
Will destroy me
But I do it anyway
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
She is robed in beauty
Singing of the dawn
Shades and hues
Of innocence and color
Make her glow
Like new found love
Sparkling like dew
She has captivated my heart
And captured my eyes
But not my spirit
Even she is not enough
To quell my dark desire
Pity and mercy
Have left my primal soul
I am born to ****
Purpose supplants passion
Gaze becomes focus
As I set to destroy her
Her death to come
In one moment
Frozen in my heart
Will destroy me
But I do it anyway
Many of my poems are cryptic and have meaning only to myself. I normally do not wish to explain what the meaning may be. In the case of this particular one, I think the explanation is probably better than the poem so I will explain. I am many things and among those a bird lover. I have a special penchant for bluebirds as I find them to be among the most beautiful of birds. I am also an accomplished archer and have a 30 yard range set up at my shop. I reliably group at 1 1/4″ or under whenever I shoot and as a rule I do not miss. When I am calm my aim is unerring. So, a bluebird lands on a branch next to my target exactly at 30 Yds. Yep… Right at my target. What’s a man to do? I couldn’t help myself. I sighted in and took aim. The bluebird framed fully in my peep sight and I was even able to pick a spot; middle. I use a trigger release and I had become steel as I squeezed the trigger. There was no movement as I sighted and released.I slowed my heart rate as I prepared to shoot. I was dead on as the arrow left my bow. 308 F.P.S. of instant death. I missed by half an inch, impacting just below it’s breast. I was so relieved that fate had intervened that I can’t describe it. I was panting in relief as I saw that I had missed. The bluebird actually stayed there for a moment perplexed by the impact then fluttered away. It wasn’t me; I had held my mark. It had to be the gracious hand of fate. My punishment for this evil? I have never seen the Bluebirds again that used to frequent my shop. I am left now with only the fickle crows that kick at the front door and demand food. I traded the bluebird of happiness for the crows of depression. I know.. I deserve it.
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