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anonymousthinker Jan 2021
An arrow flying through the sky
does it hit it's mark, as it passes by

just like a shooting star
such grace and beauty

who was the archer
did he shoot for pleasure, or duty

But never will we know
for the body is so slow

compared to the speed
of a fast-moving arrow
Winter Sparrow Nov 2019
Archers!
Ready your bow.
Aim.
Fire.

The last arrow was fired.
And as quickly as the arrow sprang from bow to target.
She was gone.
Disappearing into the night, dressed in black.

What is this urge to impress you?
This feeling of heartbreak over someone that was never mine?
Why is there still hope?  
Maybe because theres still a spark.

And with that spark I want to burn the world.
Burn it with you!
But...I think;
I'm only burning myself.

I'd do anything.
Go anywhere.
Just to see you.
In my arms again.

Archers!
Ready your bow.
Aim.
Fire.
Winter Sparrow Nov 2019
Are you ready to draw the final arrow?
To take that last gaze upon those sapphire eyes?
To put your hands on her porcelain waist?
To touch those heavenly lips with my own?

I can't let go of you're heart. Im addicted.
Addicted to your humour.
Addicted to your love.
Addicted to your care.

Let me take you on adventures.
Let me show you I am worth it.
Let me hold you tightly and hug you.
Let me show you passion.

With my hands on your face.
My eyes locked with yours.
My energy towards you.
My love within you.

How can one let go of all of this?
How could I forget?
How could I let you go?
How can I cast myself out of the picture?

I want to breathe your air.
Laugh at your jokes.
Learn from your wit.
Run into the night with you.

Am I ready to draw the final arrow?
The truth is...
No.
I am not.
Sharon Talbot Mar 2019
If I were Newland Archer
What would I now do with my love?
Would I torment  her, ask impossible things,
Surrender to her irrational command
And let the others make my future plans?

Oh no! My beloved Ellen was wrong!
To think that I could stay the course,
That marriage could end like a closing door,
And leave the future in May’s serpentine hands.

This time, if such a chance were given me,
What would I do to make safe our love?
I would give up all I had thought so dear,
My frivolous books, effete pursuits, so she could be near.

I was unworthy, the first time, I know.
I consented to her feeling that I must go.
But now I would re-arrange my life, dare any disdain
Just to kiss her wrist in unfounded faith.

Would I again leave my Love if told to choose?
No! I was weak before, thinking that I had no chance.
Yes, oh, yes! How could I ever bear to lose
My Ellen and our enchanted dance?

I know I have wronged those who trusted me,
But don’t blame the unwitting authoress of my woe!
For it was my own frailty that blinded me,
My disregard for those things that
Any man with a heart should know.

I see now that if to May’s wish I did not bend,
She would see my surrender was great to me but small to her,
She would find another, as resolute women do under duress.
And instead of a false life, Ellen, I could be alive with you!

                                    -----------------------­--

Written if Newland Archer (of the novel "Age of Innocence") had listened to no one and abandoned not only the wife who shanghaied him into domestic servitude, but his own priggish insistence on doing the “right” thing for the wrong reasons.

Semi-finished, June 19, 2011

Sharon Talbot
Poetic T Jan 2016
My words wish to ascend , but my thought are that
Of an archer and I **** them before they release.
Arrows your choir.
Release.  
In come high soaring melodies
The air bathes in their aromas
A disguise for incoming piercings.

One strike upon the next.
Perseverance bleeds from every wound.
First it trickles
Now it pours.
When struck again
Please find my head or my throat.
Cecelia Francis Mar 2015
Are we really done
with phrasing? I mean, I just
wish someone told me
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